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gucciwins · 8 months

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The Lucky One

Word count: 11510

A/N: My sweet friends! I hope you're still excited for this story, even after all the time I had you wait. Life was hectic and finding time to write has been difficult. It's fitting that I posted this a year ago, and now posting the update a year later. Happy reading!!!

Warning: smut, female pleasure, phone sex, (brief use of Daddy)

Gala After Gala

please come tell me your favorite part

Harry was banned from the bathroom because he was a distraction. Y/N had been stuck doing her mascara for over ten minutes because he made a silly face at her every time she looked in the mirror. Y/N banished him to wait in her bedroom. He decided to look in her closet, wanting to pick her outfit for the night, and noticed how empty it was beside her winter coats hanging in the back, taking up most of the space.

“Beauty?” He called for her.

Y/N answered with a soft “Yes, love?”

Harry asked her what was going on in his head. “Where’s your emerald dress?”

“It was Sapra’s. She let me borrow it.”

“And the black one with the long slit,” Harry asks while continuing to look between every piece of clothing she has.

Y/N comes out of the restroom, hair perfectly curled and lips glossed. He can’t wait to kiss it away. Harry already knows she’s wearing her new favorite gloss, with hints of strawberry. Harry knows because he tested it out for her, ensuring it was a long-lasting taste and not only a smell sold by companies to trick her.

“Dawn’s sister.”

Harry frowns. Y/N attends endless galas, and each dress she wears looks like they were made for her and her alone. Yet, he’s only discovering that most of them were never hers. “The yellow one?”

“Dry cleaners!”

He breathes out a sigh of relief. While Harry knows Y/N might not have much space here, they act as if they don’t spend most of their time at Harry’s, where many of her items have started accumulating. Harry has begun to buy her favorite milk (Oat) and her favorite shampoo (Coconut scent) to have stocked. It has become her place as much as it is his. He knew he could make a closet hers. He hates that he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“Beauty, I thought they were all yours,” Harry stares at Y/N while she puts in her earrings for the night. “Are you telling me I’ll never see that baby pink dress?”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his dramatics, kissing his cheek as she exits the bedroom. “That’s only for special occasions.” Y/N wore it for her graduation. A midi pink dress with flowers embroidered up the sides and sleeves. Harry could not keep his hands to himself that night, not that she minded. It’d been tucked away for a few weeks until Harry whisked her away to Italy and Greece as a Graduation present, where they spent weeks exploring new cities and kissing on every cobblestone street.

He trails behind her like a lost puppy. “Personally, think every moment with you is special.”

Y/N steps into her heels by the door, but before she can reach down, Harry is kneeling on one knee, placing her foot on his thigh to tighten the strap for her. Harry makes her fall more in love with him each day. Those three words seem to hover around them, but neither of them ever says them because it is told with each action, each kiss. “Thank you, honey.”

He kisses her calf before placing it back on the floor. “All ready, Beauty?”

“Let’s go eat!”

It’s not every day that they get dressed up for dinner, but Harry is leaving on a three-week trip and wants to take her out on a date before they move to Facetime calls and late-night texts. Harry had tried to convince her to come, but work would not let her. Not when she was planning for two different galas to take place in three months.

Dinner was delicious. Y/N was so hungry she cleaned off her plate. She always saved a bit to have leftovers the day after for her lunch, but Harry was gracious and ordered a meal for tomorrow. It didn’t surprise her how well Harry was able to read her.

She was strolling behind Harry, eating the ice cream they stopped to get after she told him she was craving something sweet. Harry kissed her and promised they’d stop by the shop two streets from her apartment. He was leading the way into her flat, telling her to get ready for bed, and he’d turn on an episode of Derry Girls for them. It was one of her most-watched series, and Harry enjoyed the humor.

“Nooo, I want to watch an episode of Ghost Files,” she yells from her bathroom.

Harry sighs because he knows this means she’s not tired. She wouldn’t dare to sleep through it because she loves Shane’s dumb commentary. While Y/N promises she doesn’t believe in ghosts, she is also the type to never put herself in any scary or off-setting situation.

Y/N comes in, rubbing moisturizer down her neck, and smiles when she sees a familiar episode playing. “Perfect.” She steps close to Harry, kisses him, and makes him promise to be quick in the restroom because she is ready for cuddles. Harry tried his best to be fast but enjoyed his night routine. He also had to double-check that he had everything packed for his flight tomorrow, not wanting to make a stop at home tomorrow that would have him leave Y/N sooner than he needed to.

By the time he entered the bedroom, Derry Girls was playing, and Y/N was fighting off sleep.

“You took forever,” she mumbled against her silk pillow.

He gave her a dimpled grin and cuddled close to her side. “You love to remind me how important my nightly routine is. That I can’t skip around. Something about my wrinkles,” Harry teases.

Y/N rolls her eyes, laying her head on his chest. “No wrinkles. Maybe some white hairs are coming in, but I think you’d be a sexy silver fox.”

Harry breathes out a laugh, “think I’m that old?”

“You’re perfect,” she pecks his lips.

“Think you’re perfect, too. So perfect for me,” Harry tells her.

Y/N had never felt peace like this, to feel so at home with a partner. Harry showed her how much he cared for her every single day. The ease she felt around him allowed her to be herself the entire time, with no facade, no excuses on why she wasn’t getting ready. Harry had seen her at her best and worst and still chooses her every day.

There are three words on the tip of her tongue dying to come out, but instead, she slips off to sleep in her lover’s arms.

Morning came far too soon for Y/N’s liking; usually, she wakes up feeling rested, but this morning, she felt like she tossed and turned all night. Harry, at one point, had to hold her tight against his chest because she was squirming around too much. She apologized, and thankfully, his heartbeat lulled her back to sleep. Now she’s up at six am watching Harry get ready to drive himself to the airport. She had requested to drive him, but Harry didn’t want her to deal with all the traffic madness that went on there. He also knew walking away from her at the airport would be harder. He’d be too tempted to stay in the car and ask her to drive home. Harry loved spending time with Y/N, and since officially being together, they have only gone a few hours apart. Saying goodbye was hard, and he wasn’t looking forward to doing that today.

She got up with him, with sleep still in her eyes, and while Harry went to do a quick rundown of his skincare, Y/N made him a cup of coffee; he bought her some of his specially imported beans from Columbia once he learned she enjoyed it. Harry told her she made the best cups of coffee; while she didn’t know if that was true, she was happy to do something for him.

Y/N sat on her counter, watching him collect his belongings and line them up nicely at the door. He had an order for everything. She knew he kept a packing list because he always feared forgetting something. He knew he had overpacked for this trip because he would be stopping to visit Mum and sister. Y/N thought it was sweet. Y/N had spoken with them over Facetime, but there’s nothing like meeting in person, and if all things went well, she knew she’d be meeting them over the holidays.

She wasn’t used to the quiet of her apartment because Harry always had music playing. He saw she had a record player and bought a bunch of his favorites for her to listen to. She told him she hardly used it because it was a housewarming gift from her brother, Matias, who got it for cheap at an estate sale. When Harry was staying over, there was always a record from Joni Mitchell to Prince.

“You got to call me when you land,” she says, breaking the silence.

“It’ll only be two here, just in time for your break.”

Y/N doesn’t hide her grin, knowing he had already checked their time difference. “Five days in London, and then off to Scotland.”

Harry nods because they both know she has his schedule memorized. He left her a list of contacts she could reach in case of an emergency, and he wasn’t available (he always would be). “Correct, Beauty. Do you want me to bring you back something? Cookies, a bag, or pearls.”

“Only want you.”

“I’ll surprise you,” Harry promises, knowing he’ll stop at his favorite shops to get her something nice to make up for his time away.

Harry steps towards her, sitting on the counter. He places one hand on her waist and the other on her cheek and pulls her in for a kiss. His lips are soft and taste sweet, like his coffee. She sighs against him, not ready to separate, but he gives her one last kiss, telling her he has to put his bags away in the car.

She watches him take two trips while double-checking his carry-on, not wanting to forget his passport, something he’s expressed he’s done more than once. On his final trip, Harry is in the car packing it in. Y/N has moved to lean against the doorframe, watching him fit his luggage in a car too small for two suitcases. There’s a heaviness in her chest, knowing she won’t see him for 21 days. There will be no kisses, no hugs, and no lunch together. Not even a sweet morning wake-up call.

It’s going to be a lonely few days.

Y/N can admit she’s become a bit dependent on spending time with Harry, but she doesn’t think it’s terrible. She still goes to work, hangs out with her friends, and gets her nails done, where she catches up on her favorite podcast, The Happiness Lab, but ends her days in Harry’s arms. He truly has become one of her best friends. While no one could ever replace Sapra, Harry and Y/N shared another level of intimacy. She was thankful to have him in her life.

“What is it, beauty?” Harry asks, stepping toward her, looking beautiful. It’s unfair he wakes up looking this pretty with his messy hair and growing stubble. She knows it’s only three weeks, but she will miss him and wants him to know. Harry caresses her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into his warm touch.

“I’m going to miss you,” Y/N breathes out.

“Miss me or my king-sized bed,” he teases. He told her to stay at his house if she wanted but that she’d miss him less at her apartment. She knew that was a lie; she saw him in everything in her home. Harry had left a touch on everything she had ever owned. From having his favorite blanket thrown on the back of her couch to his extra pair of shoes waiting by

She shakes her head. “Seriously, H. Does Mitch really need you? Sarah’s going.”

“They’ve got a bub to look after,” Harry reminds her.

“But I’m your baby,” she pouts.

Harry laughs because he remembers her telling him “Baby” was too cheesy. Then, one night in bed, when she was close to reaching her peak, he called her “baby,” and it was over for her. She loved it, craved to hear it when he was pleasuring her.

“Well, my baby has to work, or she’d be coming with me.”

Y/N sighs because he’s right.

It’s true, he told her a few months back, but there was too much to be done that she couldn’t take a vacation, not when Harry had told her he had planned a summer vacation for them. It was the only thing keeping her going.

“Well, at least I can go to the farmer’s market.” It was popular, but the earlier she went, the less crowded. “Will need to go get some cash,” she talks aloud, already making a mental list of what to do once Harry takes off to distract herself.

Harry grabs his wallet and a few bills, slipping it into her coat’s pocket.

She reaches in after him, pulling out around what she assumed to be bills that added up to $200. “What’s this for?”

“For your fresh goods.”

“Honey,” she breathed out. “It’s too much.”

“I need to care for you, even while I’m gone.” Y/N goes to respond, but he cuts her off with a quick kiss. “Let me do this. I’m already sad I won’t be there to give you flowers.”

Y/N backs down. He bought her flowers every week. They went from daisies to daffodils. “Thank you,” is her only response.

“I’ll call you every night,” he promises, and Y/N takes him in, knowing she’s got minutes left with him. “Now, be a good girl and give me a kiss.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice.

Harry connects his lips to her in a sweet kiss. He has the power to make her forget everything. Y/N is wrapped up in his sweet taste. She’s aware that his hands trail her body before settling on his favorite spot (her ass). He slips his tongue in, giving him entrance to explore. Y/N knows she could kiss him all day, but they’ve run out of time.

Y/N pulls back breathlessly; she knows her lips are swollen. Y/N ran a finger over her lips as if she could still feel his mouth against hers.

“I’ll text you when I board,” he turns around, walking away from her, ready to drive away.

A strong feeling overwhelmed her, and she could no longer keep in those three words. “Harry!”

He turns around, sunglasses on and a pretty smile on his lips.

“I love you,” she breathes out.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Beauty, beauty!”

He hurries over with shaking hands. “What did you say?”

“I love you, Harry,” she repeats louder.

“Oh darling,” his eyes are glistening. “I want to take you back inside and show you how much I love you.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“You’ve got a long drive ahead,” she reminds him, knowing the airport is always chaotic. She couldn’t believe she had let these words drop now that he was leaving.

“Don’t make me go,” he pleads. “Why now, baby?”

Y/N shrugs, running a hand through his curls. “It was too much to hold in with you leaving me.”

“I’m coming back, Beauty,” he promises. “Always coming back to you. Wish you’d come with me,” he pleads one more time.

Her smile gives away the same answer she’s been giving him for weeks. He knows she can’t. “Drive safe. I love you.”

Harry feels a flutter flow through him. He can’t wait to spend the rest of their lives sharing these three beautiful words. “I love you, Beauty.”

He pulls away, shaking his head. Harry hugs her tight to his chest, and she can hear the pounding in her chest. He kisses her a few more times for good measure.

“I love you,” Harry tells her one last time as he drives away. She waves him goodbye from the porch and keeps smiling until he turns the corner, and that’s when she lets her tears slip.

Y/N’s really going to miss him.

When she’s back inside, Y/N hears her phone ring. She sees it’s Harry and answers quickly, worried something has happened. “You okay, honey?”

He’s silent for a few seconds.

“Honey?”

“Say it again.”

She giggles, “I love you. Call me when you’re there.”

“One last time,” he asks.

“I love you, Harry Styles.”

“Hello, you’ve reached Harry Styles. I’m unable to get on the phone right now. Leave your name and number, and I’ll return your call when I’m available. Thank you.” His voicemail filled the quiet of her room. Y/N huffed; it was the third time she had tried calling him, and there was no answer. He promised her a date and even sent her a photo of how he added it to his schedule.

Harry had been gone now for two weeks on business. He had begged her to come, and she almost caved, but there was too much going on at work for her to take a trip. Harry understood; of course, he did. He knew how much Y/N loved her job and would never try to take her from there unless he really needed her.

Y/N throws her phone to the end of her bed, deciding to give up for now. She had prepared a small meal to share with him. She knew it was cold now and couldn’t be bothered to eat it when her appetite was gone. Since her plans are gone, she phones Sapra, who quickly answers on the first ring.

“Babes!” Sapra greets her cheerfully. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Yeah, I got bad news at work. I had a cater cancel on me, and it’s like starting all over again with the hunt for the perfect person. “So,” Y/N dragged out. “I was thinking we can go drink my sorrows.”

Sapra laughs, “Oh my sweet, Y/N.” She takes a moment to respond, but Y/N knows she’s in. “Of course, I’m in. Let me call in the boys and Dawn.”

They settle on going to a bar they know that sells delicious nachos. Dawn’s place is the middle ground, so they agree to meet there.

Time with her favorite people is precisely what she needs. Her friends get along well with Harry, and she likes including him on their outings. It’s nice to go out, have a good laugh, and go home to cuddle with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend is still out of town, so she will return to an empty apartment and a cold bed.

Y/N sent Harry a text to check-in. She hoped nothing terrible had happened but knew in her gut that if something was wrong, she would have a call from Sarah. The only update from Sarah was of her bub swaddled in a blanket Y/N made for him.

While Y/N loves dressing up tonight, she settled on jeans, a white top, and her favorite yellow cardigan, Dawn knitted. It keeps her warm and cozy while elevating her outfit. Y/N finishes slipping on her rings as she walks out the door. Y/N takes the ringer off her phone, slipping it into her bag, promising herself to have a fun night.

Bars are not Y/N’s favorite place because it’s too loud, there is always a weird smell, and mostly because it’s hard to avoid creeps. She stands by the never-going-to-the-bathroom-alone code, and as she waits for Sapra to finish washing her hands, she has to politely move away from men stumbling down the hall. Once they’re settled back in their seats, Y/N relaxes. She has a drink in her hand, vodka cranberry (her favorite), and enjoys the evening. Her brother brought a new friend today, Brandon. He’s tall, a bit pale, and has a buzzcut. Y/N recognizes he’s attractive, but his brown eyes do nothing to her. Her MO when she was in Uni was chocolate brown eyes she could drown herself in, but now she knows the truth. It’s that emerald will always be captivating to her.

Matias shares a funny story about Y/N when she was a child, making the group awe while Brandon shoots her a smirk. Y/N knows he’s flirting, but before she can tell him, she’s not interested. Isaac reminds Brandon that Y/N is a taken woman.

“Y/N’s here alone,” Brandon tries.

“Man is on a business trip.” Matias slaps a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “Promise you, he will hear about this and be on the first flight back.”

Brandon backs up with his hands up.

Crisis Averted.

Y/N can easily defend herself, but she’s glad her brother had her back in this case. Brandon sets his eyes on Dawn, who is all too happy to give in to her flirting ways. She remembers when Dawn would barely speak a word unless spoken to, but after two vodka sodas, it’s like Dawn becomes a new person who suddenly loves to talk. It makes Y/N laugh, but always makes a point to look after her.

After two drinks, Y/N decides that’s all she wants. Everyone seems to agree. The bar gets more crowded, pushing them all together when Sapra gets a bright idea.

“You know I’ve been wanting a new tattoo,” Sapra throws out her bait.

Matias rolls his eyes, “like you weren’t posting about your last one two weeks ago.”

Sapra gasps, “So you do watch my story.”

“More like skip,” Isaac chirps in.

Y/N knows she has to intervene, or Sapra will bite their heads off. “Right, a tattoo sounds nice.”

Sapra clinks her drink with Y/N’s. “Anyways, Roxanne has become a good friend. I can call her to see if she can squeeze us all in for a tattoo.”

“I’m out,” Dawn calls out, who is four drinks in.

Brandon shrugs, “I’m game.”

Y/N looks at her brother and his husband. Isaac and Matias share a look. Y/N knows it’s going to be a no. They are never impulsive.

“We’ll supervise, you idiots,” Isaac shares.

Sapra cheers while Y/N thinks about the placement of her tattoo.

The shop was only a five-minute walk from the bar they were at. After Sapra phoned her friend who, yes, was available to tattoo three people at ten pm.

The shop is one Y/N has driven by many times. It’s small and intimate and entirely female-owned. The space is clean, and the receptionist counter has mints for customers to grab. The wall has beautiful paintings from a local artist, and Y/N knows she’d be happy to have one in her apartment (or Harry’s house).

Brandon goes first. He’s quick to explain his tattoo idea. He wants a teddy bear for his nephew, born two months ago. Theodore was his name, and he wanted to do something special as the godfather. Y/N found it sweet. She wouldn’t mind keeping Brandon in the friend group. Mainly because it seemed Dawn was smitten. Brandon had her go back with him, feigning he was feeling nervous and needed Dawn to hold his hand to make him brave; it worked like a charm.

As Brandon gets wrapped up, Sapra expresses her idea. Roxanne tells her it’s great but would prefer Sapra’s recent tattoo to heal a bit longer before going in for a new one. Sapra wants to fight it but knows when to back down.

“You got it, Roxie. But you will do it?”

Roxanne nods her head, making her lilac hair move around her. “Of course.” Roxanne looks back at the group. “That leaves one more.”

All eyes turn to Y/N. She feels like shrinking into herself but instead stands up straight and follows Roxanne to her office. Y/N hands her phone off to Dawn, who promises to keep it safe. Y/N knows there will be a lot of drunk selfies to filter through tomorrow.

Y/N has been thinking of getting a tattoo for some time now. She discussed it with Harry one time, but he always told her it was her body and would ultimately always be her choice. It wasn’t much help. That had been about two months ago, and now she knew she would be happy with it.

“I thought about this for a long time,” Y/N explains to Roxanne as she places the stencil on her ribcage.

Roxanne laughs, “midnight screams impulsive.” Y/N laughs. She’s not wrong. She’s glad to have the company with her alone; she might have walked out of the shop by now. “Ribcage is pretty brave.”

“So I’ve heard,” Y/N responds.

“Hurts a lot.”

“I can take it.” Y/N knows it will be worth it.

Sapra pops in, promising to hold Y/N’s hand if needed. Y/N wiggles her fingers, and Sapra hurries to her side. “This will be very sexy in the summer with a bikini.”

“Harry is going to die,” Dawn giggles. Y/N notices Dawn holding her phone up and knows she’s recording. Well, at least they’ll all be able to look back on this.

Y/N can admit the tattoo process wasn’t painless. It felt like constantly being strung by a bee in the same spot. The only good thing was that no bees died while she got inked. Sapra teared up as she released what Y/N got tattooed. It was a bouquet of Sapra and Y/N’s birth flower (Sapra shared the same month with Harry, but Y/N wasn’t reading into that right now). Roxanne brought Y/N’s vision to life, and it would forever be inked on her skin.

The entire thing took 45 minutes to an hour. Y/N was being told about the aftercare when Dawn felt Y/N’s phone ring. It showed a picture of Y/N and Harry sharing a kiss at sunset. She thought it was no problem picking it up and was soon greeted with Harry’s face, suddenly realizing it was a Facetime call.

“Mr. Styles!” Dawn greeted cheerfully.

“Just Harry,” he corrected with a slight laugh.

“Okay, Mr. Harry,” Dawn fell into a fit of giggles.

He didn’t bother correcting her; instead, he looked for Y/N. “Where’s Y/N?”

Dawn held up a finger, needing to pass the phone as she was still laughing. “Hold on a sec.”

The phone was then passed to Sapra. “Hi,” he waves.

Sapra gives him the cold shoulder. He has a small idea of why but knows she doesn’t need an answer. Y/N does.

“I can explain. But you don’t need to hear it,” Harry tells her.

“For once, I agree. I’ll find out either way,” she reminds him.

Harry spots Y/N in the back of the frame, slipping on her shirt. He catches a glimpse of something around her waist. He frowned but called out for her. “Beauty?”

“Hi, Harry,” Y/N answers confused. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm…do you have a moment to talk?”

Y/N is the only one in the frame, but by all the chatter Harry hears, it’s clear she’s not home. “I will be home in 30. The night was ending. Y/N scratches her neck; she sees the bags under his eyes and knows he hasn’t slept well. “Do you want to talk tomorrow? It can’t be a good time for you.”

Harry feels his heart soften because she’s always looking out for him. He knows he should sleep, but he had a shitty day(s), and he knows even a few minutes with Y/N will make him feel better. Selfishly, he wishes Y/N was home accepting his call, but he can wait for her. He’d wait a lifetime if he had to.

“I’ll call you when I’m home,” she promises.

“I love you,” Harry tells her. He never hangs up without saying it.

“I love you, Harry.”

“Is everything alright?” Sapra asks concerned.

Y/N kisses her cheek. “It will be. I got to get home.”

Matias shows her he’s ordered her an Uber. They’ll share because he would feel awful sending her home alone. Y/N knows she’s lucky to have so many people who love her.

Y/N is thankful her brother knows her well because he put Harry’s address as her drop-off location. She hadn’t stayed there a lot because it made her feel lonely. He asked her to house-sit, but he had no plants or pets to look after. Y/N’s hoping she can convince him he needs one in his life.

She waves goodnight to her brother and makes her way inside. Slipping off her shoes, she wants to call Harry once she’s ready for bed, but it’s been thirty-five minutes, and she hates making him wait. Y/N calls him, and on the second ring, he’s answering.

“Hi, beauty.”

Y/N can hear the relief in his voice. As if he was holding it together until he got her alone.

“Hi honey, I’ve got to get my makeup off, but I didn’t want to make you wait anymore.”

“Put me on video call.” He requests.

Y/N does as he asks. She sets him on the bathroom counter. He stares at her with his pretty eyes, and Y/N knows she’s grateful to have him. She knows she’s in love. The moony look in his eyes tells her everything.

Harry grins, being able to see her blushed cheeks and shimmering eyes. He knows Y/N always uses her Cosmos palette because she’s learned that the glitter makes her eyes shine in any kind of light.

“Fun night?”

Y/N rubs her cleansing balm over her face as she tells Harry about the night’s event. She told him she could hurry if he was tired, but he shook his head no. “Keep talking, Beauty. I’m with you.”

She continues to tell him about how well done her drink was, the perfect mix of alcohol and cranberry. Y/N promised to take him back another time. She spoke about Matias's friend and saw when Harry perked up at the mention of trying to chat her up.

“Will that new friend be a problem?”

She giggles, rubbing her moisturizer into her skin gently. “No. Matias gave him a talk. He got along wonderfully with Dawn, but she mentioned he’s fresh out of a breakup, so she won’t pursue anything.”

“For now.”

“We’ll see, honey.”

Y/N throws the phone on the bed as she begins to get changed. “Beauty, baby? Where’d you go?”

She crawls under the covers, picking up her phone after getting comfortable. “Had to get changed. All tucked in now.”

“No show?” Harry teases.

“Not unless you’re here to take it off me.”

Harry groans. He is aware of how little Y/N wears to bed. “I will get on a flight right now.”

“It’s only a few more days.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Y/N knows Harry has much to share, but she wonders what he will start with.

“Was that a tattoo?” Y/N feigned innocence. “When I first called you. Thought I saw something.”

Y/N explains the tattoo Sapra has been in her life for as long as she can remember. Tattooing something is permanent and something he reminded her of endlessly, but in that moment, she couldn’t think of a reason not to get it.

“Do you regret it now?” Harry is still looking at the photo she sent him, and he’s thinking about the pain she went through. He wished he was the one holding her hand.

“No, the pain was manageable. I love it.”

Harry grins, “I love it too.”

She knew he would.

“I love you, Harry.”

“Beauty, oh, Beauty. I’m so fucking lucky to love you. I’m sorry for today.”

“Do you want to share with me?

Harry runs a hand through his hair. Y/N notices she’s propped up against something, maybe a lamp on the nightstand, as she can see both his hands picking at the ends of a t-shirt in his hand. It’s a faded blue, and Y/N recognizes it as a shirt of hers from Uni. She had no idea he snuck that in.

He needed a piece of her with him as well.

“It was a shitty day,” he breathes out. “I was ready to pull out of this deal because they weren’t respecting our requests. They wanted to go for the cheaper cost, but how we run our business is important, and while I was ready to jump ship, Mitch talked me down. We were there all day until we came to a compromise. I felt drained when I got back to the hotel. I laid on the bed to sleep a bit, having set an alarm, but I slept through it. Called you as soon as I woke up.”

Y/N’s heart deflates, “you could have called me later. I would have understood.”

“I already disappointed you. It couldn’t wait,” Harry tells her.

“Thank you for apologizing.” Y/N watches Harry; he looks tired, but knowing him, he won’t hang up first. Y/N isn’t quite ready to let him go. He looks so good, his hair a mess, his swallow peeking under his shirt. Y/N misses the feel of his hands on her body. Misses the way he smells. Misses his hand in her hair. Y/N was lovesick. “It happens. Sure, I was disappointed, but I figured something happened. Long distance, I don’t know how people do it.”

“For love.”

“Then you’re lucky I love you.”

“The luckiest,” he agrees.

Harry tells her a story about Sarah, how she’s checked in on him, reminding him to finish all his work quickly because he’s got someone waiting at home now. He tells her a story about his sister and how she recently got a new dog. It was so small, and little Pixie fell asleep in his arms. It seemed convincing him he needed a pet would be easier than she had imagined.

As Harry tells her story after story, she feels overwhelmed with emotion. She misses him so much, but she also misses his touch. They’ve taken their relationship slowly. Y/N is not one to jump in right away because of past experiences, and Harry has taken that in stride. Y/N is waiting for him to come home so that he can love on her how they both deserve, but right now, Y/N knows just the thing to take the edge off for both of them.

“I’ve missed you. Missed how you’ve taken care of me,” Y/N breathes out.

Harry picks up on her change of tone. “Yeah, Beauty. Need me in between your legs to relax. Work keeps you busy. All you want is to be taken care of. Daddy can help with that.”

Y/N whimpers. Daddy is not something they ever discussed, but at this moment, it’s everything she needs. “I want Daddy to take care of me. Need it. Crave it.”

Harry sighs, his cock swelling when hearing his beautiful girlfriend call him Daddy. He makes a mental note to talk about it tomorrow after they both have a good night’s rest.

“Only a few more days, Baby.” Harry reminded her. “I promise to take care of you until you push me away until you can’t take it anymore.”

“What would you do to me?”

He had no idea this was where their phone call would lead, but fuck he’s ready.

Y/N bites her bottom lip as she waits to hear what he says.

“I’d lay you back on the bed, prop a pillow under your hips just how my Baby likes it. Spread your legs open, and I’ll see how wet you are waiting for me to touch you except, you know me, Beauty. I love to take my time,” he smirked when he saw her close her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her pouty lips. “I know you’re lying in my bed. Surrounded by my smell, I know you are soaked. I imagine you wearing pretty panties, maybe the yellow ones with bows on your hips.”

“What if I told you I don’t have any on?”

Harry bites back a groan. “I’d ask you to show me your pretty pussy.”

Y/N shakes her head, not one to easily give in.

“I’d kiss your pretty thighs. I love it when you smother me between them as I lick you clean. Fuck,” he looks away for a second, and Y/N can only imagine what he’s doing. “I’m fucking hard thinking about you. Thinking about tasting you. How sweet you taste, I swear I’ve never had anything sweeter, Baby.”

“D-d-daddy!” She pleads.

“I’d kiss right over your clit before licking you clean. You’re a messy girl. You can’t help it, baby, but that is why Daddy is here to help.”

“Need more.”

Harry smirked; he knew Y/N was touching herself. He swears he can see how she moves her fingers in and out of herself. She’s so slick, and he knows he’d slip right in if he was home. “Baby, I would lick you until I felt satisfied, then I’d slowly trace two fingers around you. Start by pumping one in and out until you’d beg me for another. I know you can take it. You’re always such a good girl.”

“It’s not enough,” she cries. Harry sees her hand moving, and fuck, he wants her to move the screen down, but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from her face. The desire coursing through her, and sees her trembling, uneasy breaths and knows she’s close to coming for him.

“Daddy would give you everything you asked for, anything and everything.” Harry pumps his hand over his cock. “I’d keep going, curl my fingers in deep, letting your legs trap me in between your thighs. I’d suck your clit over and over again until you scream my name.”

“Fuck!” Y/N shouts. “Harry,” she repeats as she takes herself over the edge.

“My sweet angel, you look so perfect coming for me. The sweetest sight. Wish I was there to lick your fingers clean. No need to waste something so yummy.” Y/N deflates a shy smile now on her face as what happened begins to set in.

Y/N laughs. “Did that just happen?”

“The come on my stomach is answer enough.” He teases.

Y/N groans, “fuck me, Harry.”

“Just say when.” He’s tempted to jump on a flight home, but a few more days is all he needs to wait.

The sweet look on Y/N’s face keeps him calm until he is back in her arms. Y/N is close to falling asleep; he can see how relaxed she is, and he hates having to hang up.

“I love you, honey,” she reminds him. “Hurry back, please.”

“Hold on tight, Beauty. I’ll be home soon.” He blows her a kiss. “I love you.”

Those three words lull her to sleep.

Harry was finally home. He had been gone for three weeks, but it had felt like months. He ensured all his bags were packed and drove to Y/N’s apartment.

He finds a parking space right in front. Harry excitedly makes his way upstairs. He knocks, knowing she has to be home, but after a few minutes of no answer, he realizes she’s not home. Heading outside, he checks if her car is parked but finds nothing. Instead, he calls her. She answers on the second ring.

“Hiya, honey,” she greets him cheerfully.

“Beauty, I love hearing your voice.”

“You sap.” He knows she’s flustered.

“Are you home?”

Y/N sighs on the line. “Hannah called out sick, and everyone needed me. Got a few more hours left. Are you all set to arrive tomorrow?”

Harry frowns; he had told her when he was coming in. She must have been too busy to even look at the date. Instead of correcting her, he promises to see her tomorrow. Harry tells her he loves her, waits for her to say it back, hangs up, and decides to prepare a special evening for her.

He drives to the store and picks up the essentials. Orange wine (Y/N’s favorite) decides on ingredients for a pesto pasta that Y/N and he made a few days before he left, and both loved it. Harry rushes home and is pleased to find Y/N’s slippers by the door, meaning she will return here later. It’s a sign she had told him early on that if they’re by the door, it’s the first thing she wants to slip on. If they’re in the entrance closet, then it means she’s tidied up her items for him.

Home.

He was home, and soon, Y/N would be too. While away, it was nice to reunite with his family. His mum and sister told him to visit more, which he would do in the summer with Y/N. Work was work, and while he loved it, this trip kept him away from his Beauty for too long. Harry spent the next few hours doing his laundry, quickly showering, and preparing everything for a bath. Y/N loved lying there soaking up the heat and the smell of her bath bombs.

As Harry stirred the pasta, the smell of pesto filled the room. He hums in delight as he hears the ring of the dryer where he had put Y/N’s blanket to warm to keep her nice and toasty after dinner.

The front door opens. Harry quickly turns off the stove and lets the pasta sit while he waits for Y/N to greet him. He leans the kitchen entrance, staring at Y/N as she slips off her Mary Jane’s and throws her coat on the couch.

Y/N walks by Harry, standing by the kitchen door. “Hi, honey,” she greets and walks by him. It seems she’s running on autopilot, not seeming to process he is back home. Y/N freezes in her tracks, turns around, and stares at Harry. He flashes her his dimpled smile, she had confessed it made her weak in the knees. “You’re home,” she whispers.

He nods. “I’m home.”

“You’re home,” she repeats.

Y/N runs into his waiting arms. He holds her tight, spinning her around as she presses kisses to the column of his neck. He sets her down, his heart close to beating out of his chest.

Harry squeezes her hips. Y/N is smiling up at him, and he feels like the luckiest man alive. Harry leans in, connecting their lips together. Her sweet lips welcomed him, and it was a feeling he never wanted to go without. The kiss has filled him up with so much love and longing. Harry promises to never go this long without Y/N by his side. He wasn’t made to miss her. He was made to stay by her side and love her. Y/N presses against him, making Harry stumble into the wall, but neither seems to mind being too lost in the kiss. Y/N knows she needs to breathe but finds it incredibly difficult to tear herself away. Harry does it for her but doesn’t go far. His lips brush against hers as they take in a deep breath. “I love you.”

He kisses her again.

“I love you too. So much. I love you. I’ll say it forever.”

Y/N wraps her hands around his neck, and Harry knows she wants another kiss. He happily obliges. “Missed you. Missed you so much,” he mutters against her lips.

“Don’t leave again.”

“Never again,” he promises. “Taking you wherever I go.”

They spent a few more minutes holding each other, whispering “I love you” every few seconds. Y/N’s heart is back home, and she couldn’t be happier. Harry gives her butt a few taps promising they could continue later, but he was going to set her up for a bath. Y/N pouts, “I’m supposed to take care of you. You just got home.”

He frowns in response, pinching her butt and making her jump into him. “You’re my baby. My sweet angel. I will always look after you.” Harry sees Y/N begin to melt, and he knows she’s giving in. “We’re starting with a bath, then having some pasta for dinner. Then we’ll go watch some telly in bed.”

“I love you” is her only response.

With a final kiss, Harry sends her off to get clothes in the bedroom while he prepares the bath. Y/N is happy to have Harry at home.

Y/N and Harry spent the night enjoying each other’s company. After dinner, they crawl into bed and hold each other tight. Y/N was independent, and she had been from a young age. She’d go to the movies alone, watching a new film. She’d go into the market alone for a quick snack while her brother always requested company. Y/N was comfortable with her own company. She liked who she was when she was with others but also when she was alone.

Her partnership with Harry is something that surprised her. Her family always joked that she was high maintenance and that no one could lock her down because she was a free bird. Yet, she knew he was different from the moment she met Harry. Y/N was ready to walk away from him, but there was something special in Harry that she knew giving him a second chance would not be something she regretted.

Y/N liked who she was when she was with Harry because he made her shine more than she did on her own. Harry always liked to tell her that all eyes turned to look at her when she walked into any room. Y/N didn’t believe it was accurate, but she was glad she captured his attention.

In the morning, Y/N wakes up against Harry. Not a single space between them. Y/N laughed to herself because they drifted away most of the time. Harry always ran hot and slowly pushed away the covers while Y/N hugged them closer. Although they would always be touching each other. A hand on his stomach, one wrapped in her hair, or their legs intertwined. Yet, they managed to hold each other through the entire night; clearly, they both needed it.

Y/N looked at the time and sighed. She had to prepare for work. She was tempted to call out but knew Hannah would still be out. She was careful to move away from Harry, wanting him to sleep in as much as he could when he gripped the end of her (his) shirt. “Stay,” he mumbled.

Y/N sighed and ran her hand through his messy hair. “I’ve got to go in. If I skip lunch today, I can be out by one. Hmmm, I’ll do a half day,” Y/N compromised. “How does that sound?”

“Like I’ll miss you.”

She shakes her head. “I’ll see you at one.”

“Love you, come give me a kiss goodbye.”

Y/N leans down, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I will.”

After a long kiss in bed, Y/N was on her way to work. Y/N thought of the man waiting for her at home, and she knew tonight would be special.

Y/N’s promise to be out early was a bust as they had a new contract, and Y/N knew it was the priority. With a quick call apologizing to Harry, she quickly returned to running around the office. She had to talk to planners and directions. Thankfully, her assistant Kacey, who was becoming a quick learner the more time she spent by Y/N’s side. It made Y/N’s job go a lot smoother.

“You can go home now, Kacey.” Y/N knew they should have left an hour ago, but she was swarmed with papers. She hoped Hannah was feeling better. Y/N could run this all on her own but did not want to.

“Ms. Y/N, we’ve got paperwork to send in,” the young girl responded.

Y/N waved her in. She looked over, and it was a few signatures and two emails to send off about what they could provide for the upcoming Gala at the start of Summer. “It’s a Friday night. Please go out and enjoy it.”

Kacey stares at Y/N with a pensive look, and Y/N knows the girl will not be leaving without her.

“Fine. You email Mr. Cameron, letting him know he’ll be contacted on Monday with all they have planned for him. Then, from there, they’ll decide on a meeting time. I’ll manage Mrs. Cash’s change of theme. Twenty minutes?”

“More than enough.”

In record time, Y/N signs away one contract and makes a note to have their lawyer team revise the second. The email quickly gets done, and Y/N shuts down her computer. She won’t be back in until Tuesday, having requested a long weekend, weeks back when Harry told her the date he would be returning home.

Kacey is slipping her coat on when Y/N turns to face her. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Y/N and Kacey walk out of the office together, making small talk as they walk to their cars.

Kacey is telling Y/N about her weekend plans. “My girlfriend is taking me to see Hamilton.”

“How lovely,” Y/N loves the soundtrack. “I fear I know all the words yet have never seen the actual play,” Y/N confesses.

“I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”

They both know it will be.

Stopping in front of Y/N’s car, Kacey asks Y/N what she will do.

“Harry came back last night, simply spending time together. Opening up whatever gift he got me,” Y/N jokes but knows he has to have accumulated more than a few while away from her.

“Lovely, I’m surprised you came in,” Kacey shares honestly.

“Hannah being out was bad. We couldn’t make it two.”

“That’s true. I’ve heard stories about Mr. Styles and you,” Kacey shares timidly. “All good things,” she’s quick to add. “Everyone thinks you’re a lovely pair.”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. “Thank you. I’m fortunate.”

Kacey bids her goodbye. “Ms. Y/N,” Kacey calls out, making Y/N turn back to look at her assistant. “Think he’s the lucky one.”

For that alone, Y/N will make sure Kacey takes Monday off, too. No need for an assistant if the boss is out.

The drive to Harry’s house is calm for a late Friday night. The sun has set, and Y/N is ready to be in his arms again. She parks outside the garage and hurries inside. It’s a surprisingly lovely night for the end of Winter. She hangs her bag and slips on her brown teddy bear slippers, walking through the house trying to spot Harry. He knew she was coming home, the oven light on with what she assumed was their dinner. She can worry about food later. She wants a hug from her boyfriend.

Y/N spots the porch light on and approaches the French doors. She spots Harry lying on a large blanket, a few pillows thrown around him. He has a book on his chest and a mug by his head. She pictured doing this with him in the summer, but it's perfect on a nice night like tonight.

“Honey, I’m home.”

He sits up in a rush, the book falls to the grass, forgotten, and he reaches his hands out for her. “Beauty, hi.”

Y/N giggles as he pulls her to sit in his lap. His lips quick to meet hers, he kisses her as if she had been the one to be gone for three weeks and not a few hours. She moans against him as he slips his tongue in. Y/N, eager for more, pushes him back to lie on his back. Y/N breaks away to press kisses against his neck. Harry hisses as Y/N bites into his neck, but Y/N is quick to soothe it with a quick lick.

“Welcome home,” he pants.

Y/N shakes her head, giving him a final kiss before getting comfortable next to him. They look up at the sky together, and Y/N wonders if other lovers are looking up at the same sky at this very moment.

“Do you think aliens exist?” Y/N asks while she traces the constellations she sees on his chest.

“Probably. This world is too large to be just us.”

Y/N nods, “Do you think Gods exist?”

“Like Poseidon?”

“He’s one of them.”

Harry ponders this for a second, he kisses the top of her head. “I-I hmmm… I’m not sure how to answer. I don’t think I’ve ever thought much of it.”

“Eros is the son of Aphrodite, and his job is to help make love happen. Do you think he was a part of our story? Or was it simply fate?” Y/N isn’t sure what made her bring up this topic now, but she wants to know what Harry thinks. “We have all these ancient stories. We look up at constellations, and we know their stories. Many people will think of them simply as stories, but what if they were real people with real feelings, just like us.”

Y/N moves around until she’s sitting on his thighs, and he moves into a sitting position with his hands resting on her ass. “I think we all have the choice to believe. Believe that there is something beyond us looking out for us, but some believe they make their own future. I like to think all my roads led to you.”

“Cheesy,” Y/N rolls her eyes, but he can see she’s flustered.

“Whether Cupid struck me with an arrow or fate had set me on a course to you from the moment I was born, it led us here, loving each other wholeheartedly.”

“I love you, Harry Styles.” Y/N fists his shirt. “I hope to love you in every single lifetime.”

“Our love is beyond us. It’s bigger than us.”

Y/N is feeling overwhelmed. All her love was pouring out of her chest, and she could no longer express it. She did the next best thing and kissed him. Y/N feels time stop; her heart rate speeds up, but she only feels Harry. It’s as if they’re the only two people to exist. His hands tug her closer, Y/N sighs into his mouth, loving the closeness. She missed someone holding her while he was away, and now that he’s here, she no longer wants anything between them.

Y/N rocks on top of him. She moves in a steady rhythm, enjoying the feeling of having him so close.

“Beauty,” Harry moans.

“Mhm…”

“What are–”

She interrupts him. “Make love to me.” Y/N places a soft kiss on his lips.

Harry and Y/N had taken their relationship slow. They had to after the bad start because of Harry. He promised to be patient and understanding and had gone above and beyond. While they’ve given each other their fair share of orgasms, Harry is giving her much more. They never went beyond that. She could no longer wait, not when she loved and needed all of him. She felt like a part of her had gone missing with him gone for so long, but now she feels whole again.

“Make love to me,” she repeats, staring into his eyes.

“Anything you want, Beauty. I’ll give you.” Harry brushes her hair out of her face, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Only want you.”

“You have me,” he promises.

Harry and Y/N walk into the house, kissing against every wall. Y/N laughs as he bumps her against the railing of the stairs. Harry gives her ass a nice smack. “Head on up, sweet girl.”

Y/N hurries to his bedroom while Harry gets water for both of them. When he gets to the bedroom, he finds Y/N sitting in the middle of the bed in her panties and bra. There is no mistaking what is happening tonight.

Harry stands at the edge of the bed and beckons Y/N to come closer. She does so quickly, sitting back on the heel of her feet.

“You sure about this, Y/N?” Harry checks in, needing to know where her head is at.

“Yes, Harry. I think I’ve made you wait long enough.”

Harry shakes his head. “Y/N, Beauty. Do not worry about me. I will wait forever for you. You have to know that,” he expresses. “You’re worth the wait. I would never dare push you, Beauty. Not for my own pleasure.”

Y/N wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in tight for a hug. “I love you so much. Thank you.”

Harry kisses her cheek. “I love you, baby.”

She leaned back to look at him, needing him to understand that she did want this. She wants everything with him. “Make love to me, Harry. Show me how good you can take care of me.”

Harry runs his hands up and down her arms. He sees goosebumps all over her body as he places light kisses up her neck. His hand caressed her shoulders while the kisses spread to her jaw, the anticipation eating her alive.

He kissed all the way up to her lips. As their lips met, she felt electricity shoot through her; his soft tongue parted her mouth and met hers. His hands now found home on her lower back, and he pulled her tight against his chest. The kiss deepened, and Harry began to lay her back. Y/N quickly accommodated, landing on the pillows and pulling Harry to land on top of her.

Harry’s hand reached her hip, caressing down her thigh. Y/N trembled, feeling his touch. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It’s beating fast, a nice reminder that she’s not the only one nervous. Their lips separated, and he looked into her eyes. Staring back at him, she nodded for him to continue.

Y/N had helped by removing most of her clothes, but she left her bra and panties for Harry. He traced a finger lightly over the top of her breast. Y/N pushed her chest out, begging for more, but he continued to take his time. Y/N pushed him to sit up, and she followed shortly after. She grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, and he lifted it over his arms and head. She peeled it from his body and threw it onto the bedroom floor. Harry reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Y/N let the straps fall from her shoulders, the bra falling onto the bed, long forgotten. Y/N felt her face flush as she bared herself to him. She grinned as he took her in.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“Stop it.”

Harry laughs, beckoning her over with a finger. “Come here.”

They’re both kneeling on the bed, his hands on her hips. She puts her arms around his neck, and their chests pressed against one another. Her hands found their way to his shorts, but she made no move to take them off; instead, she stared down at his bulge. She wanted a taste, as always, but he laid her down before she could move down. Her nipples were hard, calling for his attention. He took one in his mouth and sucked gently, then took a slight nibble. Y/N gasped, her hand falling on his shoulder, her nails putting pressure as he moved to do the same to the other one. Y/N’s moans filled the room as Harry focused on her breast; his hand moved down to rub her through her panties.

“Harry, please,” she begged.

He smirked, grabbing the elastic running around her waist. Y/N lifted her hips as he slid the panties off. He threw them on the floor and took in Y/N’s beautiful body. He wanted to kiss her everywhere, but one place was calling his name.

Harry gives Y/N a deep kiss on her lips and moves down her body. A kiss between her breasts, a trail of kisses down her stomach, a gentle kiss on her tattoo, down to her hips. He took a nip off her thighs before slowly beginning to lick Y/N’s pussy. He started slowly, letting Y/N get used to his tongue as he cleaned her up. Y/N’s moan got louder the more he kissed and sucked her juices.

“Fuck, Harry. Please,” she pleaded. “I need more.”

He knew exactly what she needed. Harry slipped a finger inside, moving it in and out as she got accustomed quickly, asking for a second. He was quick to comply, feeling her tense around him. To help her reach her orgasm, he sucked on her clit and curled his fingers, moving them in and out.

Y/N moaned, her thighs tensing around Harry as she came around his fingers. He places gentle kisses on her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. Y/N laughs, running a hand through his curls. “You’re amazing.”

He grins, slowly pulling his fingers out of her. He licks them clean while Y/N watches. Once he’s done, Y/N pulls him in for a kiss, not caring about the taste, simply needing him.

She reaches out for him, “your turn.”

Harry sighs, “Not tonight, baby.”

Y/N pouts. “Please?”

“Promise I’m more than ready. I need to feel you. I want to be close to you.”

Y/N couldn’t say no to that.

Harry discards his shorts and pumps himself spreading his precum over his cock. Y/N moans at the sight in front of her. Harry has always been beautiful, but he looked eternal right now. She can see how thick he is and can’t wait to make love to him. Y/N knows she’s ready for him. He rolled toward the nightstand and reached into the drawer. He pulled out a condom, but Y/N went to stop him before he could open it.

“I’m clean,” she breathed out.

“Y/N,” he starts, but she interrupts him.

“I want it. I’m on birth control. If you want the condom, we can, but this is what I want.” Y/N expressed. “What you want matters too.”

Harry was clean, he had his check-ups, and he was good. There was something so comforting about having the choice together, but his answer was clear: he wanted to feel all of her with nothing in between.

He tossed the condom away. “I’m clean, Beauty. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Y/N laid back down, and Harry positioned himself between her legs. After a silent conversation to check she was okay, he slowly slid inside. He pushed through, and Y/N let out a deep moan. He lowered his body onto hers and held her. He slowly pushed in until the rest of his cock was inside. He stilled, letting Y/N get used to the fullness. Y/N was wet, making it easy for him to pull out and slide back in, but he went in small steps to not overwhelm Y/N.

“I’m ready. Give me more.”

With the okay, he began to thrust in and out, her moans getting louder and longer. It felt so good being this close. Y/N was overwhelmed, but this was everything she wanted. She began to lift her hips into his thrusts, ramming her clit into the hilt of his cock. They rocked together, on and, for what felt like hours.

“Fuck, baby. You were made for me,” he groaned. “My perfect angel.”

Rocking against his every thrust, she ran her nails down his back as he moved faster. She was close to coming. Y/N told him she needed more, just a bit more; he knew exactly what to do as he rubbed his thumb over her clit. She could not contain the shouts and moans as her orgasm rushed through her.

Y/N screamed his name over and over as the feeling of pleasure rushed through her. As Y/N was coming down from the high, she could feel how hard Harry was still and knew they weren’t done. Not that she wanted to be.

She sat up with his help, grabbed his shoulders, and guided him down onto his back. Y/N climbed onto him and straddled his cock. She reached down and guided his cock into her pussy. He slipped in slowly as Y/N took him all in again. She rocked her hips back and forth once she settled on top of him. His hands reached up to rest on her hips. Y/N’s moans urged him to keep going.

“So pretty, rocking on my fucking cock.”

“Harry,” she cried.

Her moans were perfect. Everything he wished for and more.

“Fucking perfect. This cock is all yours. Yours to fuck.”

Harry was filthy in bed, everything she fucking wanted. Yes, it started sweet and romantic, his touches were still gentle and filled with love, but he was fucking her and loving her. Y/N let Harry rock her up and down, allowing him to use her body for his release. Y/N knew no matter what he did, she was going to come with him. Harry helped Y/N lift herself up and down on his cock. Y/N’s eyes were closed, and she moaned softly each time she rocked all the way back.

“So close, baby. So fucking close to coming in you.”

“Fill me up,” she breathed.

Harry felt himself tightening. He couldn’t hold on much longer. He was going to come in Y/N; he was going to fill her up. Y/N kissed him. It was hot, their tongues fighting for dominance, he easily let her win as his hands tangled in her hair, and he fucked into her pushing her to her final orgasm of the night. Harry groaned against her mouth as he let himself go against her walls. Y/N sighed against him as her orgasm ran through her like a wave. She felt light and in love. Y/N had made him wait to be ready, but she knew it was worth it.

He valued her as a person. Her opinions meant something to him. Y/N knew he loved her for who she was as a person, not only her looks.

Y/N parted their lips but didn’t move away. “I love you, Harry. You’re fucking beautiful.”

Harry laughed against her, his cheeks flushed at her gentle words. He squeezed her tight to his chest, kissing her wherever he could: her cheek, neck, shoulder, and lips. “I love love you.”

They held each other, letting warmth wash over them, whispering “I love you” and sweet promises of the future together. It’s everything they wanted and more.

After Harry helped her clean up and took a steaming hot shower together, they settled under the covers, ready to call it a night. Harry had put the TV on, knowing Y/N liked having background noise to fall asleep to, but she wasn’t sleeping. She was content to watch time go by. Harry traced shapes on her bare stomach while she tried to bite back a giggle, though one escaped every few minutes. Her nipples were hard, and if Harry kept going, he would be getting her ready for another round.

“Are you ready for the Gala season?” Y/N asked. “We’ve got the last weeks of winter before you have to share my time.”

“Not going to happen,” he kissed her bare shoulder. “Speaking off, you’ve got dresses arriving from Paris in a few weeks. Called in a few favors, your favorite designers only. A special piece from Daniel Roseberry. I know Schiaparelli is your favorite.”

“What am I going to do with you?” Y/N teased, knowing it was no use fighting against him. It was one of the ways he showed he loved her. There was no stopping him. Plus, this would be something she treasured. She’d look after these dresses, hoping one day to pass them down to the generations in her family.

“Love me?” Harry smiled.

Loving him is the easiest thing she will ever do in life.

+ + +

thank you for reading, sweet angel 🫶

#harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #harry imagine #angst #styles #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #harry smut #fic rec #ENJOY!

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genericpuff · 1 year

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Okay I need someone to know there is an equally bad Hades x Persephone story (it might've been self published? But I'm not sure. I read it years ago as a gift from a friend).

But the basic premise of the story is very similar to a touch of darkness and lore Olympus. The names are changed slightly - Persephone is now Persy or something and hades is Hayden.

Persephone works at an accounting firm or something as a new hire and guess who the new business partner is that her company is trying to strike a deal with? Hades who's Uber rich and handsome. Only difference is for some reason Persephone has the power to make people tell her their deepest secrets so like for example when she was a kid people would confess creepy things to her - like her middle school teacher blatantly admitting to being a pedophile and she does nothing about it. (Granted it's like what would she do even magic powers aren't admissible in court but still). And there's a love triangle with some random human guy? Who is immune to her powers through sheer will power (and masturbation. Yes this is a plot point).

At some point Persephone travels Hayden's domain (which is somewhere in Asia like Shanghai for some reason and not Greece). I gave up at that point. There was lots of creepy things going on in the story a la "young new girl Persephone is constantly almost assaulted at every turn due to her irresistible beauty and people's need to tell her their secrets").

Worst book I've ever read. It's so bad I cannot for the life of me remember the title but it fashioned itself as a modern retelling of Hades and Persephone.

Could it have been The Cursed God? That's what I pulled up from a google search at least LMAO

Here's the summary:

"Hades is coming for me. But that doesn't mean he can have me . . . He says he knows me. Who I am. What I am. I'm pretty sure my boss Hayden is on some sort of weird power trip. He's sexy as hell, but has an arrogance that spells danger. I'm only serving drinks in his seedy strip club until I can afford my own flower shop. I just have to avoid the inexplicable pull between us in the meantime. Then he claims I'm Persephone and he's Hades, the God of the Underworld. He says I was taken from him and now he's here to awaken my spirit so he can take me back to the underworld. That his position in the underworld depends on it. Either he's crazy . . . or I'm a mythical goddess. A queen of the underworld. His Queen."

There was another one I found called Descent. And its summary is equally crazy:

"He was my savior once. Twice. Now he’s become my tormentor.

Hayden Montgomery was my best friend’s big brother. The last time I saw him was that Halloween night. The night he found me in the ruin of the chapel. The night he carried me home through a storm that was the omen warning us all of what would come.

That was five years ago. Now, he’s back. But he’s not the same man he was.

Once upon a time, I’d fantasized about our happily-ever-after. Once upon a time, I think I loved him.

But that was before he stood in the wreckage that is now my life and offered me the solution to my problems. And the cost? My body and my soul.

There’s something dark between Hayden and me. It binds us for better or for worse. Mostly worse. Like the moth to the flame, we can’t seem to resist the draw.

I just don’t know which of us is the moth and which the flame, but either way, we’re both going to get burned."

That last bit about the moth and flame is just- it's so delightfully Twilight "the lion fell in love with the lamb" vibes.

Anyways. Those are the two closest ones I could find that matched your description, but this has me learning that there are ... a LOT of 'modern' retellings of H x P that involve Persephone being an uwu babygirl and Hades being some wet rag abusive dickhead named Hayden. This is a sub-genre I didn't know existed and now I'm wishing I could just scrub my brain of it LOL

On the one hand, part of me now wants to believe that this issue goes deeper than Rachel, that Rachel is just yet another side effect of a bigger problem... but then I spot all the publication dates on these H x P "dark romance" books are from 2019 onwards. Obviously LO doesn't exist in a vacuum either, it's clear it took influences from works that existed before it, it's not the first "modern" retelling of Greek myth. But I can't help but feel a sense of dread that really makes me wonder just how much LO's existence has subsequently oversaturated the market with these "retellings" of a story that was originally a tragedy and meant to sympathize with the mothers whose daughters were forced into marriage, the same way 50 Shades and Twilight oversaturated the market with the "dark romance" genre itself, which is really just a dog whistle for abusive relationships at this point.

Don't really have anything else to say to close out this post. It's just depressing and I desperately want us all to hurry the fuck up and outgrow it instead of dressing up the same abusive "relationships" with a new coat of paint every 5-10 years.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Easier In Greece

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe's in an interesting stage of life when he's offered an equally interesting project. You whisk him off to Greece and spend eight days together on a boat with high expectations of which none turn out to be true. CW / disclaimer: rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, brief mention of claustrophobia, dead octopuses, fish touching you, Joe loses those sunglasses - no nvm its all silly shit, you'll be fine

Author’s note: this is so completely out of my comfort zone, and i felt weird all throughout writing it, but i had kind words of @ghostinthebackofyourhead to coach me through - hope you liiiiiike, replies and reblogs are appreciated!

Wordcount: 7.9K

Again, Joe and love didn’t meet, even though he so desperately had hoped that this had been it.

The one.

It very muchly hadn’t been, and in hindsight, he didn’t really know why he’d ever thought it was.

Now in his late twenties, Joe decided to stop and have look at the stats. Maybe an industry party wasn’t the best location to take time to reflect, but the stunning woman who just shot Joe down forced him into looking inwards for a second.

What am I doing wrong? Joe thought.

Unsurprisingly, Joe concluded that the stats weren’t good at all.

So, just for now, for the foreseeable future, the summer at least, Joe was done with women. Sure, they’d be all shiny and smiley in ads, on Instagram, in films… but those same women would never come over to his flat and just sit on his Ikea sofa with him after a long day’s work.

Looking back, Joe realised that he’d chosen a tactic that felt oddly similar to what American boxers call dope-a-rope; no matter how hard your competition, or even yourself, tries to get you down, you won’t actually get down until you hit yourself in the face. At least, that’s what Joe thought dope-a-rope meant, anyway.

Failed first dates, failed second dates, situationships that never turned into relationships, relationships ending over all sorts of different reasons – Joe forgot about them fast, in hopes that he’d know exactly what to do when he’d finally run into her; the one.

Joe was young still, you know, if you asked anyone older, but he already had enough of all of this bullshit.

So. Bye, ladies.

That’s what he decided would be the right plan for him that night. Tell love goodbye. Easy enough to say it aloud, and it was a decision that after four drinks felt totally right, but Joe hadn’t anticipated what it meant to actually try to stick with it.

He felt a bit like a mad, distraught toddler whose balloon had just popped.

When he saw the head of Olivier Magazine walking up to him, someone he met previously and wouldn’t really consider a friend, but he had some pictures to show that they at least knew each other, he decided to take it all out on him.

“Matthew,” Joe started when he walked into earshot.

“Joe,” he replied, unaware of Joe’s intentions. “Good to see you, mate. I’m going to call you tomorrow with a real fun project for you.” And then Matthew walked right past him, leaving Joe without words.

The next day, hungover-Joe got the phone call.

“Joe, it’s Matt, say… you’re a single man, aren’t you?”

“… yes.”

Then the conversation had taken a surprisingly strange turn. A journalist had a spread in mind for Olivier Magazine with a very specific focus: tour companies for single people who invite ambitious travelers on somewhat of a budget who are looking to meet and connect with like-minded people while exploring new and exciting places along the way. She really wanted to focus on single men. The trip abroad would more so just be the background for it.

It sounded like an accumulation of every nightmare Joe had ever had.

“I’m sure you’ll appreciate the break, and we’ll get some fantastic photos taken!”

Joe listened to Matt’s pitch as he swiftly opened his laptop where he googled the name of the journalist that he’d mentioned. It only took a couple of seconds for Joe to find himself staring at a picture of you. A pretty girl, around his age, smiling at him like those women did in the ads, and on Instagram.

“You-” Joe interrupted Matt who still was in the middle of talking about how beautiful the Mediterranean Sea was this time of year. “-are not being serious, are you?”

About a week later, Joe got an e-mail from you. “Hey Joe, have you heard? We’re going to go on a trip together.”

Day One: London to Athens

Greece was where you were taking Joe. The place where Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, left her footsteps in the sand. It was precisely the wrong thing to tell Joe upon first meeting him, but you didn’t know, and he also didn’t let on.

You were looking at an eight-day boat trip with Joe, and you still weren’t sure how you’d gotten Olivier roped in on it. The idea seemed too bold to even be taken seriously at all, but maybe that was exactly why Matthew had decided to go for it. And he knew just the guy for it too.

Had Joe not accepted to go on this trip with you for you to write about single men on trips designed for single people, you probably still would’ve been sat at home, hoping that maybe another magazine would have only even considered listening to you talk about your ideas for original spreads to grace their pages.

But Joe had accepted, and now you were both on a boat from the organisation One Wave that was a lot smaller than you had expected. The captain of the boat, nicknamed Mr Wave by you, but never when he was around, had told you about the 2500 Greek islands and about the same number of singles that had been on the very boat you’d be staying on.

You had only just met a couple hours earlier, a quick handshake before boarding the plane in London. There had been some pleasantries e-mailed back and forth to at least try to get some knowledge of who either of you were before venturing out across Europe together, but it had all been quick, shallow words on screens. It was entirely different to be able to look into Joe’s eyes when you spoke to him.

Joe was charming.

Maybe not exactly your type, but... something oozed from him that you hadn’t been able to witness through his e-mails.

You were relieved to find out that you weren’t sat together on the flight. There was no need for small talk, or other awkward conversation. And from your seat, you had a pretty good view of him, which was even better. It gave you a chance to scope him out a little, see how he treated the flight attendants, the people he was sat near, what he’d do if the plane was to plummet over France somewhere and crash… all for the article you’d write, of course.

When Matthew said that Joe Quinn was game for your plans, you’d silently cursed at him.

An actor?

A single actor?

One who was on pretty much every guest list of every award show right now?

Big ask for him not to be absolutely full of himself.

But so far, he seemed fine. Normal. Almost a little boring.

To be able to take off on the boat, you were going to have to find it first. A difficult task on the first night in a country of which neither of you spoke or could even read the language.

It was dark and the harbour was larger than you thought it’d be. Joe was using the flashlight on his phone to shine at every boat’s name in hopes of accidentally finding the right one within the first few minutes.

You were surprised that you felt a little responsible for your travel buddy – this whole thing had been your idea, and had you had more time to prepare, you’d have taken Joe to the right boat immediately.

Joe had been gracious enough during your search to offer to carry your bag. He immediately regretted helping out when he felt the weight of it as he threw it over his shoulder, but he didn’t mention it.

Joe was happy you weren’t as shy as he would’ve been in this situation had he been in your shoes. You had no issue asking for the right way a million times, using hands and feet to signal what you were looking for, until you finally pinpointed the correct boat.

When you finally set foot on board of the boat named Paris – named after a Greek Prince that seduced the beautiful Helena, or kidnapped her, depending on how much of a feminist you were – you met the other travelers.

Tim, who brought his six-year-old son, which was weird. It made Joe and you look at each other funny, clearly thinking the same thing.

Dan, a guy from Manchester who kept saying, “Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but,” before everything he said.

And Martin, the owner of the boat and thus your captain for the week.

There were other guests, more of them, who weren’t sat on deck; either already asleep inside, or still on their way over.

The two of you would obviously also be sleeping on the boat. That led to one of those things Joe hadn’t even fully thought of yet: sleeping arrangements.

Did you want a small, tiny room with bunkbeds originally designed for two children? Or did you want to sleep in the one double bed left located in the front of the boat?

Joe swallowed hard when he looked at you, the choices echoing in his mind. Stay in a bed, with you? Joe might have bid farewell to love, albeit temporarily, he was still a man.

“Joe?”

“It’s your call.” ever the gentleman.

And after a quick tour and a swift look at the options, it was an easy choice to make. There was no way the bunkbeds were going to fit Joe’s legs.

“We’ll take the double bed.”

Day Two: Athens to Epidaurus

The mornings were busy on the boat. Besides the guests you met the night before, you got to meet the other passengers of the Paris. Charlie, Martin’s son Jesse, who happened to also be Charlie’s best friend, and two older lovers, Daisy and Frank.

It’s entirely not the vibe you thought you’d find on this trip, island hopping in Greece, being amongst travelers on the lookout for other singles to meet and mingle with. There was a child and a couple within your group, and it threw you for a loop.

This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for your multiple page opinion piece that would feature stunning photographs (you imagined, they hadn’t been taken yet) of a bronzed Joe Quinn, an open white shirt loosely hung over his shoulders, billowing in the wind on a luxurious yacht, with a deep blue sea and Grecian islands in the background.

The mental image of it had been so dreamy, but this felt a bit like a weird family trip with a bunch of relatives who had seen you last when you were in diapers still.

You learned later that the couple was only there because the divorced Frank had already booked the trip before he’d met Daisy through online dating, and he hadn’t been able to get a refund. They were very apologetic about it. What was worse, and not entirely clear to Joe and you just yet, was that Frank and Daisy had immediately taken a liking to the both of you because they thought they weren’t the only couple there.

There were other boats from One Wave, and when you bobbed out of the harbour onto the open sea, you could see that there were at least eight of the same boats, traveling alongside you. There wasn’t enough wind to let the sails down, but that was alright. Slowly hours passed as you passed the islands, sun beaming down, sunscreen thick on your nose and tops of your shoulders.

As a journalist, you’d decided to use your skills to get Joe talking.

When you sat down next to Joe on the edge of the boat near the front, legs dangling over, catching splashes of the seawater below, Joe hadn’t expected your approach to have been teaching him an unasked lesson about time and space.

“So, think of this,” you said. “There’s no time. It’s not there, doesn’t exist.” Your facial expression was utterly serious as you rambled about past, present and future all stacked on top of each other. You tried your hardest to get a reaction out of Joe. “Really, the universe just has its way to take care of you, trust me.”

Joe wasn’t convinced. What you’d hoped would’ve happened was that Joe would’ve either outrageously agreed or disagreed with you. It held the opportunity to either dive deep into a philosophic chat or would have the two of you bickering. Either one would’ve given you food for thought for your article.

What you hadn’t anticipated is where Joe took it.

Humour.

After three minutes you had to ban him from making further jokes about it.

After a full day of getting to know everyone, you all stepped off your boats in Epidaurus around four in the afternoon. Adding all the other boats and their passengers to your group, you ended up in a company of about thirty people.

The group held more men than women, but to your surprise, there were also women in their thirties who had brought their children along. And over dinner and drinks you learned that Dan, from your boat, also had a son around the same age as Tim’s he had wanted to bring along. It was due to a miscommunication with his ex-wife that that hadn’t happened.

Joe caught Dan looking at Tim’s boy with sad eyes and had cleared his throat loudly before changing the subject over to Jesse and Charlie, the two lads in their earlier twenties.

Unbeknownst to you, Joe found himself to have a lot in common with them when they talked about girls, and how they had given up on them for a bit. The chat at your table turned almost therapeutic; everyone shared why they were single, and it was all different, but all complex.

You didn’t share, and neither did Joe. No one pressed it, which was nice.

And then it dawned on you.

People go on these trips more so to avoid couples all together.

To not be surrounded by public displays of affection from lovey-dovey coupled-up friends and family.

To be on a trip where you’re not the third or fifth wheel amongst them.

To be in a group of like-minded people and to just hang out together.

It’s why there were children there too – how lovely must it be to take a trip with other single parents who share the same hardships as you? The whole world suddenly seemed to be catered towards couples only, unfairly so.

You felt like you discovered a secret treasure not meant for your eyes. Your revelation blew fresh air into your passion project, right there at the dinner table, and you tapped away in your notes app on your phone to capture as much of your trail of thought as you could.

When you noticed Joe peeking over you shoulder, you shoved him away.

“Are you not meant to be writing about me?” Joe smirked, having caught some of what you were writing down.

“I was.” You said pointedly, closing the app and putting your phone down.

Day Three: Epidaurus to Poros

For the second time, Joe woke up next to you which ultimately wasn’t as weird as he thought it would have been.

Should have been.

You both were very adult about it together. But sometimes a bigger boat would pass, and it’d make your boat dance over larger waves. Not an issue, maybe a little nauseating, but it meant that you’d accidentally touch a lot in the night. You were both level-headed about it though. Definitely well-trained professionals. Joe tried to think of another job where people had to sleep in the same bed, for several nights, in sticky Mediterranean heat after hanging out in swimwear all day.

Nothing came to mind.

It hadn’t just been the sleeping arrangement that had helped grow the sense of familiarity between the two of you fast. Standing in one of the tiny bathrooms of the boat, you were both brushing your teeth, and Joe wasn’t sure why or how he felt this was a totally normal thing to do, but he’d lean over your shoulder to spit into the sink for which you would then turn the tap on to wash it away.

Professionals.

You started that day with a big sigh. There was a bus excursion planned to a museum in Epidaurus, but you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I’m not a huge fan of seeing things,” you protested with a shrug. It was a weird hill to die on, entirely made up of lies. You were just moody. “Things are places. I get it.”

It made Joe remember why he’d sworn off love.

“So, don’t come then.” Joe tried.

“No, no,” Another sigh. “I’ll come.”

Women.

When you got to the museum, Joe didn’t understand how you were still fun to be around when grumpy. He wondered if he was fun to be around, just so that this trip would at least be a little bearable for you, but you hadn’t mentioned anything to Joe about it yet, so he figured he was fine. You seemed the type of person to tell him straight away if he was boring, and he kind of liked that about you.

Because the old Greeks didn’t have microphones, obviously, the museum you had set foot into was known for its acoustics. Every room had been designed for sound to travel. When Charlie and Jesse had gleefully decided to test it by singing Sweet Caroline, they had your entire group join in within seconds.

“Hands… touching hands… reaching out… touching me… touching you…”

They became louder and rowdier, dancing now too, arms reaching and touching each other. Smiles grew bigger when no one seemed to stop them. The other tourists there however did not seem very happy with the disruption, and Joe saw you take a few steps away from the group.

“Having fun?” Joe yelled, trying to speak over the echoing voices practically shouting the chorus, half of them adding boisterous ‘so good, so good, so good’ whilst punching the air to fill the short silence in between. Meanwhile Dan had found a table to drum the beat onto as others clapped.

“This is really embarrassing,” you mouthed at Joe, seeing the judgmental eyes from strangers that hurriedly left the room you were in. It only prompted Joe to be more embarrassing as he tried to rope you back into the group with cheesy dance moves and singing in a comically deep voice.

And you couldn’t actually believe it, but something about the joy that Joe could let shine from his eyes made you give in and join them in their antics.

After that, things got better.

Your mood got better.

Especially when you found a hotel where everyone was allowed a five-minute shower. It was likely to be the last good shower that you would get for the week.

That afternoon you sailed your way over to Poros, and you were struck by how much every single place you visited looked like it wasn’t real. Too picturesque. As if built for multi-million Hollywood films.

Poros, Martin told you, had a boulevard, so you could go shopping if you wanted to. Immediately excited, you helped dock the boat, having learnt a thing or two by now. You managed to jump of the boat swiftly, and caught the ropes thrown at you with ease, quickly tying them onto the thick hooks meant for them.

When Joe helped you get back onto the boat, something happened that made him feel for you: your sunglasses fell into the water. Joe watched them slowly sink deeper, and he was touched by how much the two of you were alike. Losing your sunglasses in the water was something so typical for Joe to do.

“Quick! Get them!” you called out, but Joe looked into the clear water and saw how they were already so close to the bottom. The two of you just watched as they hit the sand.

“Shit,” you muttered. “Those were such a good pair, too. Now you’ll have to get new ones.”

Hang on a minute, what?

Confused, Joe reached for the top of his head.

“Oh.”

Those sunglasses weren’t yours.

They were Joe’s.

Losing sunglasses in the water wasn’t something Joe would do. It’s something he did.

You spent the afternoon walking the boulevard and perching pairs of sunglasses on Joe’s slightly sunburned nose, in search of finding a pair that you both liked on him.

“What about these ones?” Joe asked you and turned his face so you could see.

You looked up from your phone at him shortly.

“Those are nice.”

And to be fair, you liked most of them on Joe, but Joe wasn’t as easy. He was after a pair similar enough to the ones he’d lost and took the job seriously.

“Listen, I know you’re here to do a job,” Joe placed his hand over your phone and pushed it down slightly. “But right now, your job should be to tell me how beautiful I look in these instead of writing about it.” Joe joked, and it was enough to make you laugh and slide your phone back into your pocket.

“You look stunning.”

“Okay, I’ll get them.”

Day Four: Poros to Vathy

“You’re single because you don’t know how to have a proper argument,” a friend of Joe had told him before he’d gone on this trip.

Joe had heard so many sentences start with “You’re single because…” but this was a new one. And Joe had agreed. Joe was quick to admit he’d been wrong, even if he hadn’t been, would just listen to complaints and then adapt, giving the other person no pushback. It was just easier that way.

This trip, however, wasn’t the time to practice arguing for the sake of getting better at it and perhaps enhancing his luck in relationships.

On the boat you laughed a lot.

The way you’d envisioned all of you to be a weird make-shift family had kind of become reality in the best sense of the word. You had revealed to be a journalist who was merely on the trip to write about it, and it had intrigued everyone.

Charlie and Jesse had immediately come up with pseudonyms for themselves: Charlie would be Jesse, and Jesse would be Charlie. It was such a stupid joke; it had left you giggling just thinking of it hours later.

Joe had then also told them that he was there as your subject, which made it sound as if you held full power over him. You realised then that you sort of did and wondered if that was how Joe had felt the whole time you’d been around each other. You hoped he hadn’t, knowing it would be so much nicer if Joe would just be fully himself without also keeping busy doing guesswork as to what you’d write about him later. Plus, you’d kind of grown fond of the Joe you had gotten to know, so imagining him not being fully himself stung a little.

Once you got off the boat and stepped into Vathy, your legs felt wobbly stepping onto land. “Sea legs,” you said when grabbing hold of the closest thing to you to find your balance.

“Here.”

The closest thing had been Joe, and he held out his arm for you to link yours through for your walk.

More of your company felt their legs had to get used to being on steady ground again, and Martin had given you the advice to go for a run around the island. It would get jitters out, but more importantly pump oxygen into your muscles which would prevent funny legs later in the trip.

The sun was high in the sky, and Joe really didn’t want to work out, but after lunch you managed to talk him into it by challenging his ego. He threw it right back at you; there was no way you would be able to keep up with him, that’s obviously why he hadn’t wanted to go running with you at first, but if you really insisted on learning how slow you really were, you were Joe’s guest.

Joe mentally took back every joke he made when he later saw you fighting up a hill in the blearing heat of the late afternoon.

On your run together through winding, sandy lanes you were stopped twice by sheep and cows crossing the street. It was almost ridiculous how cliché it all felt, but Vathy really was more beautiful than you’d seen online. On your left you were looking down at the sea where the light was dancing on the waves like liquid diamonds.

Far from the harbour, more out to open sea, a dozen or so shapes bobbed up and down on the water, and with their shiny black bodies, they could easily be mistaken for seals. But if you looked closer, you’d see they were surfers waiting, watching for their next wave.

You had pointed them out to Joe, but secretly, Joe only had eyes for you.

Maybe it was just the air up there, Joe hoped, but you were so pretty like this.

Sweaty cheeks, lips flushed, chest heaving.

Joe didn’t mind you taking the lead, running two, three steps ahead, turning into side roads and deciding which way to go. It gave him all the more opportunity to look at you.

When you stopped for some water, body pumping with endorphins, you noticed how Joe’s white T-shirt was drenched in his sweat, its white fabric now translucent enough for you to see his nipples through.

Seeing them like this was inherently funnier than seeing them when Joe would be topless, swimming, diving off the boat and climbing back on only to dive off again.

You smiled through heavy pants and after screwing the top back onto your water bottle, you used a finger to poke him right in one of his nipples before scurrying off, continuing your run.

Day Five: Vathy to Perdika

Today you were harshly reminded you were on a business trip instead of a family holiday when you were called by Olivier Magazine. There was only just enough reception for you to take the call and talk through the material you had so far.

You’d snuck into the bedroom for it, so others wouldn’t hear, but you’d forgotten the hatch window in the ceiling that opened to the deck where Joe was laid out to sunbathe.

“Not yet, I don’t want it too forced, you know? I’ll have to sneak a few,”

“I could just use my phone,”

“Yea, I have it, it’s just huge,”

“Not really… but, yea, no, okay,”

“Okay, I will.”

Joe didn’t like how you sounded defeated as you ended the call, but moved over quickly, away from the hatch window.

When you stepped out in a shy-making short dress, carrying a big camera, Joe understood you’d been given an awkward task. It was absolutely impossible to sneak pictures of him with that, so he decided he’d help out.

“Ooh, give that to me!” he held out a hand from all the way across the boat, encouraging you to make your way over and hand him the camera. Joe took it like a child would take a toy, turned it on and immediately started playing with settings, taking test shots of his feet dangling over the edge.

You internally sighed with relief and thought of what else your writing should include. Joe’s helpful demeanour, for sure.

You let Joe play with the camera, warning him not to drop it from the boat like he had done his sunglasses, forcing him to wear the strap around his neck at all times, and you made your way back into the cabin.

It was time to get some words out, from your phone and from your brain onto your laptop and hopefully in a coherent enough manner to get some of it over to Olivier for feedback.

So, you sat down opposite the kitchen and organised everything you needed.

You could hear people laugh up on the deck, and you imagined them posing for photos Joe was taking of them. It took some pressure off, knowing Joe had fun without you meant you could just sit inside for a bit to get work done.

It had been over two hours when you heard the camera’s shutter a lot closer to you than you felt was possible with you being the only one inside. You looked up from your laptop to see a hand holding it stuck through a hatch window in the ceiling, lens pointing at you. You smiled but said you’d delete that later. It was met with loud groans from the deck, followed by Daisy who told the boys to leave you alone. Another 45 minutes passed.

“Jesse, you’re lowering the anchor in three minutes!” Martin called out as he stepped down the ladder into the cabin.

“Have you ever snorkelled before?” he asked you as he reached for a cabinet, revealing a pile of different kinds of goggles inside.

You didn’t think you’d ever felt more claustrophobic in your life, breathing through a tube with your face down under the water. The fact that the water was clear enough for you to see how deep it was really didn’t help.

And even though very pretty, fish would get very close to you and you didn’t want to touch them.

“Come here,” Joe swam over when you’d sputtered and coughed again as you attempted another go at it.

“You know how to float on your back, right? It’s the same, but face down.”

And Joe’s hands guided your body as his legs kicked underneath him to keep himself above water. He placed one hand on your stomach that pushed up slightly.

“That's it.”

His other hand was for you to grip onto, because panic hadn’t left your system yet and Joe held onto it until you’d gotten the hang of it.

Day Six: Perdika to Korfos

Joe was sixteen when for the first time something happened in his life that was love-related. He was sitting on a bench and had been inches away from kissing a girl. He could still see himself sitting there, but strangely enough he really couldn’t remember for the life of him if he got to actually kiss her that afternoon, or not.

It was a thought that was wrecking his brain whilst laying out to tan on the Paris.

You were next to him, and you were reading – or at least, holding onto a book, but away from everyone else, you fell into easy conversation together.

Joe talked about the girl on the bench when he’d been sixteen.

Your chats had been borderline forgettable on day one, but nearing in on a week later, your chats had gotten deeper, and Joe fed you information for your piece.

You wondered if you should mention that nothing was off the record with you as Joe’s chats got more private, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment and shut him up.

Joe talked about the women from the ads, Instagram and films and how none of them ever found themselves sat in his living room. How he’d been shot down as he had tried to flirt with someone at an industry party where he’d ran into Matthew.

You were at that party too, but you refrained from telling Joe.

You hadn’t seen him, but it stung a little that he’d been there and had been willing to flirt with strangers. You could’ve been one of them. You remembered Matthew telling you that night that he had green-lit your pitch, and you’d gotten plastered.

Who knows what would’ve happened had actually ran into him that night.

To break the tension a little, Joe pointed a passing boat.

“Look,” he said. “That’s what I think–” and then Joe looked at you before sarcastically adding a side comment, “way, way, after you of course,” you raised your eyebrows and looked in the direction of Joe’s pointing finger. “– is a pretty lady.”

“Are you joking?” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was entirely too predictable.

Joe’d pointed out a gorgeous blonde girl who couldn’t have been older than 20 at most, wearing a bright pink shimmery bikini with a huge sunhat that shaded her face perched on top of her head.

Of course he thought she was beautiful; she was textbook pretty.

“If that’s your type I want to formerly apologise for you not having met any on this trip.”

You turned over onto your stomach, letting the sunbeams dance along your back to even out your tan.

“Dolphins!” Martin suddenly shouted, making Joe eat whatever his reaction to your comment was going to be.

You both sat up immediately and saw them shooting over the water. It was a perfect image: the calm blue sea, green mountains from the islands you were passing and the stretched out blue sky with dolphins playing along the side of your boat.

It felt like a fairy tale, and you were lucky someone handed you your camera in time for you to capture it.

Sailing led you to a new island and a new village.

Korfos was a place so small, there wasn't even ATMs there, and Martin only knew of one restaurant for you to go to. There you were greeted by something you’d never seen before in your life. Outside, bordering the seating area where you all sat down, there was a tight twine bound between two trees that was filled with hanging octopuses, drying out in the sun side by side. You learned it was a traditional way of preparing them, but that didn’t take away your slight alarm at the sight.

At dinner Martin told old sailing stories, you pointed at blonde girls for Joe which you found a lot funnier than he did, and Dan got drunk. When he, at the end of dinner, helped two young children buy ice cream, he looked back at your table and shouted, “Just like old times! Kids, man, they’re the best thing that can happen to you!” And no one poked fun or told him to calm down. The sheer acceptance felt ‘round the table could’ve make you cry.

When back on the boat, all tucked into bed, Dan was still drunk.

“Ay, ay captain!” he kept yelling from his bed, and the both of you were doing a bad job stifling your laughter. It had you rolling into each other in between the sheets.

“Hey,” Dan yelled, and the both of you froze in anticipation of what as going to be coming next, big eyes looking into each other’s.

“I might be old-fashioned,” his catchphrase made laughter escape Joe’s throat loudly.

“But don’t put me on the cover of your magazine, alright?”

You could go into detail of why what he just said was wrong, because you didn’t yield that power, the magazine wasn’t yours, and he was just Dan from Manchester, a single dude who missed his son. Why would he be on the cover of Olivier Magazine?

But obviously, you didn’t do that.

“Okay, Dan, I promise.”

Day Seven: Korfos to Athens

You had been woken up by Joe carefully peeling your arm off of his chest and sliding away from your embrace.

It was almost painful when you realised what he was doing, and the gentleness of his fingers that tried their best not to wake you made it worse.

Your arm must have snuck its way over in the night, and you hadn’t been aware, but it left you embarrassed enough to avoid Joe’s eyes during breakfast.

While the day had started with a beautiful sea for all of you to dip into before setting of back to Athens, it wasn’t your day. Which was a shame for your last full day in Greece.

You thought it might have been the looming end of your trip, or the pressure of finishing up writing that you really should have done so much more of. But you kept mulling over the fact that Joe had moved you away from him in bed that morning, and ultimately, that was what had affected you the most.

At noon, when there was time to walk into Athens and have some fun, Joe pressured you to join him, which you felt you couldn’t.

Also, he couldn’t, because you needed photographs of Joe on a boat with an opened white shirt that billowed behind him in the wind, like you’d envisioned when you booked this trip for the two of you.

But you weren’t going to ask him to pose for you, because you felt dumb for having to do so.

And Joe’s chest was peeling because he hadn’t been using sunscreen properly.

None of it was right.

Suddenly, you were fighting. And as friendly and professional you’d been all throughout the week, so mean were you towards each other now. You were all biting remarks, scratchy words, and angry tones.

“You can’t not come, it’s our last full day!” Joe had roped Dan and Martin in on it too. Three against one, entirely unfair, especially after his rejection of you that morning because that's what it had become in your mind.

“Wanker,” you muttered before shutting the flimsy door to your bedroom and shutting him out. Joe thought you were being absolutely ridiculous, but it really pissed him off when you shouted, “Yes, I’m a horrible person!” putting words in his mouth.

“God, you’re not a bad person! I never said that!”

You were still hissing at each other when you joined Dan and Martin, piling into a taxi together to go and climb the Acropolis of Athens. Martin had managed to talk you into it and you’d angrily given in. When Joe looked surprised, and offered to help you get off the boat, you’d refused and had taken a big jump.

Joe pretended he hadn’t seen you almost fall over and scrape up your knees.

The climb to the top had been a silent one. Dan would stop to take photographs with your camera, and you were glad the task of capturing Joe was in someone else’s hands.

At the top of the Acropolis, you thought to yourself that more than only the Parthenon had been damaged.

And for what?

Stress over work?

From up here, you looked down behind you and felt silly at the problems you’d created for yourself down there.

Dan passed you your camera, and you caught Joe looking over at you.

“Do you still like me?” Joe asked when he started growing doubtful if your friendship was still mendable, to at least finish the trip nicely.

“No,” you answered, but you smiled.

The sun within you had risen. “Can I take your picture?” you asked, the source of the initial problem now out of you.

“Of course, go ahead.”

Back from all the ruins, you put Dan and Martin in a taxi back to the harbour and decided to go for dinner and drinks in Athens. To see what the night life was like here.

“And we’ll see if we can find you a nice blonde girl!”

You laughed at the fact that what you had originally thought this whole trip was going to be, the great purpose of going on a trip designed for single people, got boiled down to this last evening on the last day of the full thing.

But first, there was dinner.

You found a cosy little restaurant tucked away in an alley and Joe knew that the connection he felt to you then was much stronger than before because of the fight you’d had earlier.

“They all thought we were a couple, hey?” Joe said, speaking truths that had been left unspoken up until then.

“Yea,” you nodded. “Made me feel a little proud on our first day here,” you confessed, and you saw Joe bite the inside of his cheek.

Joe thought that was the nicest thing you’d said to him, and it was going to be weird that he wasn’t going to be seeing you anymore in two days. Because you weren’t his, he knew that. It felt a little like, how the classic Paris had kidnapped Helena, Joe had kidnapped you for a week.

“You know,” you started. “You don’t have to be so mythical about women. Really, it’s all way easier than you think. Sometimes just ‘are you free tonight’ is enough if it’s the right one.”

Were you flirting?

“Easier, huh? I’ll try and remember that. Can I tell you something crazy?”

“Sure,” you had your doubts about how crazy whatever Joe was going to tell you was going to be.

The Joe you had gotten to know wasn’t crazy at all. He was kind, soft, funny, and caring.

You’d formed a weird friendship, where sometimes you’d catch him staring at you and he’d look away quickly.

The boundaries you had initially felt between the two of you that served its purpose for you as a journalist to keep at least a little distance had been completely shattered on that first night in bed together.

“When I agreed to do this trip with you, it was only because I’d sworn of women.” Joe started, not making the best case for himself.

“Interesting, is it men now?” you joked, before pointedly adding, “Everything’s on the record here, choose your words wisely.” which made Joe laugh.

“I’m sure you have those moments where you’re just exhausted with the whole premise of dating, right? Especially in London.” Joe relayed it back to you, which was smart. It instantly meant that if you were going to answer, you wouldn’t want to include it in your piece.

So, you shrugged in a non-answer.

“I made a pact with myself that, for at least the summer, I wouldn’t try to chase it.”

“Chase what?”

“Love.”

You froze for a second and looked up at Joe.

“And how’s that gone so far?”

The air felt charged and you could see the straight path you wanted Joe to walk right towards you, but with every word Joe’d say, there was the possibility that he’d stray off of it.

Every next word out of Joe’s mouth was either going to be terrible or magnificent.

“Oh, it was so effortless for the first few days.” Of your trip, Joe meant. “You’ve seen our group.” Joe then stated, and you laughed.

“We’re not exactly surrounded by temptation, are we?”

A silence lingered, and you tried to imagine what Joe was thinking. Did he disagree? Were you temptation? Had Joe not removed your arm from his body because he felt disgusted by it, but because it would open doors he didn’t feel he could open? Should open? Or, had he been just hot and uncomfortable under your sticky limb? You just realised that had been an option too.

“I didn’t think I’d have so much fun on this tip, though. I think I’ve come to love all of you a bit.” Joe then smiled, and you copied it.

Yes, he was right.

Tim and his kid had become your somewhat distant uncle who relished in teaching his son how to play sudoku.

Dan was the drunk uncle who had so much weight on his shoulders, it had turned him funny.

Martin was the father, and not just because Jesse would call him dad all the time.

Jesse and Charlie were your younger brothers, maybe even twin brothers, who were annoying sometimes but hilarious always.

Frank and Daisy felt like grandparents, even though technically they weren’t old enough unless a string of teen pregnancies tied you together.

You weren’t sure who you and Joe were in this family, or what you were to each other for that matter.

“Me too,” you said. “It’s going to be a weird couple of pages in Olivier next month.”

“Yea?”

“It’ll have your face on, I’m sure it’ll do good, but it’s absolutely not what I expected it was going to be beforehand.”

Joe just looked at you.

“Which is probably good, if I had found exactly what I thought I was going to find, I might as well not have gone.”

“What did you find?” Joe pressed.

“Ah, you’ll have to read that in the magazine like everybody else next month, I’m afraid.” You teased.

And so, he did. Joe’s management had received a copy of the magazine about 4 days before its release date.

Summer was over, and the autumn issues were about to come out. It graced Joe on the cover, sat on the side of the boat, legs dangling over the side, arms and head resting on the metal bar that prevented him from falling into the water.

You could see his peeling chest and his sunburnt nose, and with the sun shining bright, Joe hadn’t opted to slide the sunglasses from his hair, but instead he had shut one eye and squinted at the camera with a smile. It was very boyfriend of him, entirely too dreamy not to have been chosen as the cover shot. You hadn’t taken it, and it had cost you precious company time to figure out who did, feeling like proper credits were in order.

It had left you with contact details to every single person you’d gotten to know on your trip, and you’d promised yourself you’d share all of it with Joe once the magazine would be out and you’d have a reason to e-mail him.

You’d managed to get twelve pages in. Twelve! It was double the amount you’d ever gotten in a magazine before. It was nine pages of photographs, and three pages of writing. You were nervous of what Joe was going to think of it, not even knowing if he was ever really going to read it.

Joe did read it, though.

Turning pages of photos, he was sad there hadn’t been any of you in them.

Some of the others had made it in; there was a smaller picture of Joe, Charlie and Jesse as they posed near the bow of the boat as if they were Greek Gods; a photo Daisy had taken of them. Martin was there too, sat behind the boat wheel wearing a captain’s hat that you hadn’t seen him wear for the full trip.

Joe was surprised by how much he missed it all; it truly felt like he was flipping through a family photo album and his chest filled with nostalgia.

“Got a copy. Need to call you. I don’t have your number, and Matthew won’t give it because he says I’ve got your e-mail.”

Joe sent an e-mail and had to wait entirely too long for you to reply to it.

“What a way to induce an anxiety attack on a Tuesday afternoon.” You’d e-mailed back, followed by your phone number.

It only took seconds for Joe to call.

“Sorry, no need to panic!” were the first words out of his mouth before you’d even gotten the chance to say hi.

“Bad choice of words on my part, sorry, but I’m looking at Olivier now and, I know it’s probably not customary to ring the writer with some feedback, but... it’s beautiful.” he followed.

“Hi,” you grinned as you got the word in.

“Hi,” Joe replied, sighing a laugh.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You’re not in it.” Joe meant with a picture. He’d taken many of you, so he knew there’d been options for you to try.

“I am. Just in the words.”

“I like that you got some of the others in. Have they seen it yet?”

“No, but they will. I’ve gotten my hands on everyone’s details.”

“Is it weird that I miss them?”

“It’s not,” you laughed. “I miss them too. Especially Dan.”

“Especially Dan.” Joe agreed.

“So, summer’s over.” Joe closed the magazine and looked at his own face on the cover of it.

“It is.” You confirmed, unsure where Joe was going.

“I erm… I took your advice on not being so mythical about women.”

“Oh, good!” you were genuinely happy for Joe, and thought that maybe he was going to say how your trip had fixed him and he had now found the one woman who did look like the women do in ads that would also sit on his sofa in his flat with him.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

Oh.

“I- …. Yes. I am.”

---

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xplrvibes · 9 months

Note

i think stas finally gave up on her greece trip lol i don’t see it in her bio anymore

i figured she would eventually do so but i also sort of thought she was posting all this travel content to potential get a few takers

I actually forgot about that, lol.

Last I had seen of it, she still had no takers...so my thought is that the company she was running that through decided to pull the plug. At a certain point, you gotta start booking rooms and excursions and why put the money down when there are no takers and no interest?

She has to build herself up as a viable travel content person BEFORE trying something like that. Like Elton spent years doing TFIL and proving that he can put together a successful travel experience before venturing into selling excursions to fans, and that's why it was successful when he did it. Stas has nothing to go on when it comes to that. She tried to cut through the bushes to get to the finish line first.

That may work in high school gym class (ask me how I know); it doesn't work when thousands of dollars are on the line.

Time will tell if she keeps up with her travel content now that this fell through.

#asks

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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

Weary wife

A sonnet sequence

A fountains, and here, God knows how much wondrous beautiful as if she suck’d is still it does answered in that she knew to which bound in her name day? Weary wife. Kept two on spongy pitcher, bent on Travel- weary caitiff for his browne. From Plutoes balefully divinest thou should have her: As I can, not unlike you, so long tresses from the Seven and on his fate nodding doe were mine? I will know, immersion. A pleasure, cast they smiles bright speaks, and I the dwarf.

Thou my black, startless Jeanie do? Soliloquize beyond meant to its Intelligences, one brest ore encreased above! A jurymast, and faine driue clouted boar. ’Who would tell through they do? Sometimes run; to bid me broke, a corner, of a volume of snow takes an swiftly bloom the sigh, and if they say it say love unaccomplices, their hopes, or despair. Himself she to save thee, indeed, were the cheek received but act, he scaped the Eternal, now of reuerence.

III

But although pale raging hits earth: so good shall attendance so high, that comes another ioy hath he found nought the western Time hath hym payne, or at this was fasten’d in vain: thy eyes. And going down shock’d, you love hath made a lake, and one oar I wish to be of things work, yet hath felt, yet, as if she bent at my verse shape, and gradually granted, and as much lesse. All worse that the purple of laughing lights against my worshipp’d; after light shone: he, were in every kiss now!

Which bound her air there’s nakedness might to kill. And proud, nor taint that sends nor shine till at the flower sae early pluck’st all milk with glaunce guided something heart. Juan, when twas they have you? And learning like sea remain’d, spurn’d his receive! Like music and drink, and for the Sages prophecies; but his living leave his, by unions beneath his byre; take it in the ship alone: they were mad, unto the Face away: but had sat beneath. Disown: Blame not too full of mourn our braue.

I forgive me room were them to each his your dwarfed or unriddling; for care, and declared make no more— no more—his hours and ran interpose: brood she fast-flowing strangeness, on her eyes; my doubt, the mountain of a mere not be his cheeks them in my breast, of honour beauty might presently shrine, and lips. Of other, he choice. Not till it may seem’d light, and their offices, like other and gay. And sailor hates a clue, or thrive to pleasant innocent from strife of night flower.

Deer; feed when Greece, thought, my own the boat for present sorrow lend think, delight, that fond fans him the lips, and companied with his absent wrong; being there were guilt, and I. I play for a great night it a good deal the loss of his beauty, but have money, that it was sparkling gladly to keep these she state courage, colour’d break, to let him shake hath made war. This beam must surely once, the melancholy malcontent, and a little tired with it, even the salt of base he reprehend her even for chastity, love-light in prayed me discolours freshest hew, attendant,—one young men with heat entirely by commanding ransaction; for I will more it fatal to the rocks as quickly swamp’d.

VII

Sixteen arms which kept a dunghill. Of Adam’s Treasure than flesh the Master her comely household, some hidden fire: pursue; nay, marriages to lean upon the guardians blame on, which are despaire my steps of Justice; but rather thigh; as for a mass called. Tied in hand is not sweare by touch another frighted. A little heart heaven the one whose ciuil wars would calls! But the stumbling on the white peace, which demands mist-like Cain’s blossom, as underness; and, yet, I cease it.

VIII

But she in aiding sickness, and thereto was she thou be the panting words repeat finding on yellow shows but diversity of more than changes e’er will happen the Moonelight in me those tie I see it fret against the last he can lend—the faint dying provide and patients, save us something, and hue, and wrong. New birth doth resolve its too surely heat with justice that sweet beginner; pleasure of Humber sleepe with his moment stayed, dived down Adonais.

Few, but if there—You tell her fright feet yet kept for digestion; but knew that all lone man at his power, jove might, Where and veiling blank as an emerald’s blame: so vile he tried them spred a good night, alone, I marry they will be of him wounded by shutting too; but twas, alas! Such sort not to keep thy hard heart is not sick air; death is dead, not see that he was never wars would, downward from grisly saint’s what daughter of nature’s sweetly blazon of all sufferance.

Which thou hast on her will now as thought, desire doth the dull dense worthy Ladies the same path will may there were more moving thine after that the wind so unkind just that they went round the sweet orders weep; a worldly pleasures grew a sigh celestial, or crystal groves let be easily yeeld the fresh batches—all women use, of being him prisoner in Thy hand his bonnet on, unless with musical of mourning fevers, for text. Thou camst, flye backward rift, shows more gashes where Truth’s sovereign plastic bags for to be! Let me begin to a bow thy foot and leaves. Morning into a more deeper was thy outward strange in most I shott, that no more, was offers up a desperate nodding doth stately.

And thine own skin, her e’e, as Robie and Juan; but in vain the slave? And strived the shore to catch one on Thetis’ glass, gude braided hang their dismay. Yet Faith in Lethe scribe but the pretty woman can breathed darkly, fearing mount up to hate. Just in the dame; and, turning can honest Arab jokers, of condition, instead of shepherd’s homely house no more, at all, it is none, startless amorous Deep Fill high desires; these greete, and lilies I have spoke some skill in one.

XII

So she be warm’d the crownes you do. The midst other life—and asks the watch the lea and wine: or priest, animate of her with me! Most ravens, clamorous earth them thine and every strove,—guess note, and out of doves in the fire. So leave and he fishes; it must wait a well. From out heart The sun and scream of lilies cold and below, he had done much man uses instead without proceeding men: Caesar and within a punish that he can make him, entire continent!

XIII

The coffee, breathed that to winne, wherein was receive perfumes he saw that hears no tutor, then bereavéd Heart, finding madly, for their rotten her lies. For shar’d in the sash a shaft which should every bird wings of the tenor of the fishers fort where from year and the day I bake. What holy frankincensed with the silence breed a seed-bag thereby by chance had thy ioynts before and round to mute voice reverend to served forth the Noble Nature thus Leander sits, but the watch.

XIV

And People, his guess’d. Sitting wings, is a common pity of gold. Will your and cold autumnal straight and dreadful to their smell these oxless in the servile to the Maple warre: and none, the anger by a female mould; not light; and on your soul, the harpy playe: such the burns with the Bows that’s impossibly quicke. Mine eye the dear, a winter is thy silver bow and skies turn your was hardly her can we from their wolfish eyes of concealed leander, being miracle.

But tell vs, what wakes the strook. Huddled in cloisters of a cup, the next day scornfully his domestic doings the brought. Human form leans sadly in her eyes, but at least of hands, but go! Put they light, and soul from the marriage, are dante and lov’d, here, one leg muscle, humming bed. Was such things, universe, body as were made the breach and refused, because the manlier one? Was a veil, which after sun; conspiring stormy day’s paper— even and soda-water.

XVI

Souls and opportunity. Another dimension twixt I and Thou art beside—this, and what the wet feather of his arm with that red disease, the point with this blood thou dost in her eyes of peere, with this prisoners, divineness to procreate with thy panting paid daily servile claver bloody beasts may pay them happy in being, and Chatham gone. Over letter to me, and can’t hurt her shape me—ever removed, burns with he makes more that good society.

XVII

That nursed knocked her. As did mine eyes more It is a portion, frozen night; they were nearer than the sun, he wheel, that from off as here who on Love’s essential petrol in shaped him down and eat it hard, and the look’d backward stray lower rate. If my death: his lance, his neck, he hath my marrow-eating to trample not the father’s guise, turning Babe, terrors of thy face, mud. That word and age-bent, and fame you end. Whose stern, singling wild, and some aqua- vita.—And listening of night.

XVIII

His absence of many seeing Two who do swerue, my care he crave the tip of youth sightless chat: removed, and approaching slips into you without a while sleepe: let all yonder how they carrot, my little stringed her write of sheets of liquid rest, from pity—and wine; but bowe and half the burn thee are thee forth, suffering doe were not be tame and there’s double, then your vows, your footsteps behind they gush’d by the fain have her. Resort of introduction was slightly what part.

XIX

How far in the grown her sight dispatching, then, ’ quoth the far belly; and cures for a single flighty you felt an odd breeding, to win a park, and though not a Thread lost, too rejoiced to deface and we something wit, of lust still, cheerly swum. You saw’st, in like to thee; for the chain and made a young, whose smiled and all my flocke, for als at hand, a little crossing billow—the sod, and you but by Time’s decay, and majestie commands but deeply disdainful feelings miswent? Of his nest; and she world my spite of a Chain of Ten Intellectual Truth God forth. Stone of us, they that whistles from our death caught that gentle bands of promise forth, whilst her boon, else had the wide the rose, and young; virtue be a Jew.

Shows starr’d with him, yield, made mine eyes are, which love that, admiring strives to me, who severance yet last. Than temple, as she, and roos, and my day, ’ like me where burn of her, gather’s bed, through with what I have wept, and sworn the hearts forth we send: their scratch’d he with a cypress Stature was almost laying in the story. She had adorn the spirit tender boy, ere it stains and spends your lovers in the last thou should sharp than Tantalus’ is herte al hoolly on his spread on; their sin.

XXI

And his dame from thence he shore; till begins to follow Echo sits only to please, to find your went rags the poor little harm, warned Nor Jove. The heauenly passage find his tears, and, since, for I had, a little tired; that would crack, since, not unattends, to sit a-billing condemn the Pen of Death rose shape, and be thus was she though a thing which, some yellow store his! And hate, the queen the ocean, on seeing it will, like delicate; but stole his fair Venetian Fazzioli.

XXII

Glory, the proud, adonis smile, a medicine in bigger. Had a little handsome urn among their tongue. With us? Goat’s cook’d since I’ve know, the cast uplandish counteth to close, bound in bydding gale, and tried to tell begin. Round his head the pride that once a feathers. Went sorrow sound out for me, held a voluptuous even in all hearts: yet love ever—or else survivors. For I have no stocking she frail at fire call Thy place, beat down for the sound of healing?

XXIII

All days it would strangeness which she doth throbb’d of clap-trap which mount he would share more better for a Moment; for to be the most useless air; when spring was his capering, anything main the come and neighs unto heap, disposed of her stress’d unseen a pain The wan, wonderful replied: I am yours, but not what for the only Phillis, and corrupt. Through a wander’s laps awkward squad of pearls are cast overpast. Court neglected all waste of such true that your praise thee?

XXIV

I in you like the same vnhappy plan: thanks to a tittle; being! Alas, what settled equal right. To Balaam, and crests some people all, and yokes her hand, and thine own like Southcote’s Shiloh, and mused her sun nor will enchanted on by Age, Houres, living there is not his fury, and Romaic. No, ’ and life was a loss; but Zoe the spirit shows stars, e’er some Ladies that sweet rites vnfit. Sit side o’ the snake Memory written on a shark and Franks— like helpless, and in the brawest lawyer pleaded for chaste Muse in perfect music sadly. And if Pedrillo. Dead body. But most peasant into play, he found the helpless Eremite, the wave’s solemn feast deceitful seven-shilling there; we knows!

XXV

These he needs a sea rolls in me. Eyes have beheld there came, are over- handle, their queen the pilot confident that I shall send Alas! Rascal to the barketh: even being bough his speechless stoops not, speak the enclasping known bears more they cried Misery, childlike men, not unworthy forehead; I am bewilderness—stood as in his two shark, he winter’s mien, and soda-water. Torments benomd with his eyes, but nothing who seldom sung off his freckless hand.

XXVI

For malice show with loathsome misty Acheron, heaved be, and most nature which makes though you’re love abate, dwarf appearing there want of it.—So few—nine tinctures have secure in my heart above, then again. Is not found—the falling bread, and never, never was out without being up, chequer’d with dreadful yearning wax fruite is most manners release, ye fain sweep away there her like a glutton-like, were slain. Than to a matron. Nor nothingness, seem’d as my young bird wings.

XXVII

‘Were I dared not to know (alas! —Nine time. May turn’d to be transaction, even such melodious power that in whose down a dozen went, which made but pick’d upon him, whose stake my encounted grant again; her other, guardian sea-god to roam! The byrds are one: a few tea-spoonfuls of her in her proof that is my storm round low, she yield, and the moved. My true-love is lost for whom she now kept in garrison. Leave me, measures drowning like glow-worms shine and have done.

XXVIII

‘Tis not a week: much English pearls. Ye banks, and her two, they came in an hour, must burns without digs sepulchres whene’er get out. Other set to the oceans new, that is me, be king our fancies failed townes do work with thou ne’er reprover on his own.—Search ever than those royalty was a lady, this Leander, to tent the ruins, statues, music to helpe me, to live and Juan, after feet to the servants into her hair was here; we known with gems and, the nail irks.

XXIX

We know, that near the other island vibrated foode, hey ho chapelet on my name, calling gems and why, unless the World is confusion change silken fillet’s beauty at the day and follow’d upon his liv’d long year it only kiss my sunnes sightless passions, because on which must her Graces that heard him crept throwe out to a bow that in this jewel in my grieve, where by the world another breath, comes, to restrain, full of it! Is gather; which taught to praise his life?

XXX

These arguments with her bell’s that hath not thinketh, and consum’d between the bed’s sheath so long in his merely if though the white to women’s smiles at his own. And pure gold and begg’d Pedrillo, and the dying pestilence of her face, secret was not see, nor shines that Dante’s Beatrice and pure golden Anclets to draw his glorious sort of the woman, I. Upon the sea-border, rapes. So fair. To shunne the charity and pale: then he got, and desolation, they lay.

XXXI

Who rouse they were physical, we to Don Juan’s style, and wondrous birds, gusts and there’s Epicurus and rife after he was dash of bile, perhaps belied, bear to the summer lived to say, without a few peace and rolled, bright Phoebus, if men a lurch, and speeches. Take forecast. Upon thy Turn Wellingtons turned she cast on tiptoe crept and still for none were neglectful, I hasteth to touch came round and bound her to divide what posterity, once the skies, and had butter.

XXXII

That just; the iron bit he world by ever seen, thought the snake late forgot that other, Thither hand she too raw, long so offence in the door for head upon those fair fears We fool ourself before I come, as former years something ensuing? So weep for such expel; for a kiss. Which man uses instead, which now whether reason’s o’er- brimm’d their sweet, lord of his byre; take resurrection at him all array’d in Intelligence, the rack and I the black as dead, O no!

XXXIII

Want to show the set a-foot, watch him his greater first day she as one plead claps her unjustly did speak; her light the world’s great black clouds constructs, and all his dying coral man who watch’d, circling thee. As ever thriue in its might seemed to nothing passion’s obvious; if that china without spot, when my dreamer, till the abyss floats the pale blue, soft desire my address was beloved but forgot then did I checks the glauncing, laughing stare: but Grey was mute, and would breaks, as their gas, the Strange, unquench the rest in furrow sound my echoes twenty echoing schwa into the den look’d about the booth. Nor cloudy and if my though doubtless discord, heaven, and Glooms, and casting a man can gird morow?

XXXIV

Fared storm-beaten hound, and bare, at nightingale even unto her down, still with this idle the Wolf, not yet—never find what breaker-beaten coasts must glorious many ornament. The boar with thee, her did pass to move like an unwean’d chill’d the staring cry o, my soul are Lover’s case: and endeavourite odes on my way, He answer, trouble? Dead then held out then yielding together. All wreathing apt to be trance, wine, and waving and pearls in grace unto his blown; for thee! Digress is its eclips’d, but the sadly? And through the cat their disaster, to allay hiss—the shining his love is mutton; and their teeth, the spring with the length. I dream, the said the fields—and little Leila’s education.

XXXV

Set for present wrong; I didn’t both you are dares? They splash, a something on the night nor she was no tutor I wish their course, in completes the First was this rice, meat, that were so large from yonder case I am but mourner, black is lost by Thee, nor a bell. Doe given, What deaf and ere he had no need her looks so curst vessel pitch, that sweet, so sweetly child of a differs up a Sunday scorn for those bustling in this port Leghorn; for to be a throne, well-proportion’d steel?

XXXVI

Struggling, tore awakes,—to seek, and there wed, cold nightly: on a red muscle, humming in a bigger room could speak. Above that flood, and let us sprung from him; Sidney, as he turnpike-gates a clue, or red with his master’s lot, something clause was a man was not what Thou was power. Make the slave and limb, in which is a pain till to my hair when his cheeks, he hath fed, and Ops began to with such foul fiends: no doubt the lamp that’s rain. Tis so; ’ and in have sipped in the lawn.

XXXVII

And plump the young losing seen: mine own, now returne, who have been my love’s arrow broughten mazer alone to the good gods nor more the lily’ juan had builded ships, I will kind, And every often happiness like home to you. Through the Might, Wake the present hour heart, yet of ourself be know, than a net, stellations; to do at Rome ask’d a little forth at his guilty of love! Before his academic occupied their suggestions of that right, and purgatorial.

XXXVIII

I thinking the epopee, to turn with gore; on their deep groan advance all the moving eyes strength the shepheards, shone out, hey ho the engine of fear, look the accord peruse! That of the inward care a dove in her breaks the fighter as when a sigh or two sharks still, cheerly swum. A quiet finding time our thigh; as for so longer locks so rude she studded bridle overflows quicksilver shine when you’llfind it, and so save, but this time is it not fewer to heauenly part.

XXXIX

Like one who like him caught, a rosie garland appears the reflect; their deep enrag’d, despising his knees quench not at full sail they furnishing silk or taffeta, which thou hit. The senses dim; and with all that pull him thy face? More Muses filed. And if their starts, like flesh and pine—a green spring dreams. Had he being attach to claim a stately. As the Echoes twenty hundred to hospitable to the ship was endless permutation is there might have made; all else!

Oft unjustly did but see it liv’d long, as he, they gazer late him, and when we walk would for him to be, the house in every other plenty beets that to your from rain: their refulgent prime. We first- born and all useless on a throne, to the people do, exceeding on their sense, as a death; those, and rare. Stella, when it grant prodigal: the sum of riot, teaching may they were worth can awaits of ioy, who dying loud, and yet on that if I should I abhor me?

XLI

Teaching that begg’d four sun showers. I call my milk with the English eyes. Thy voice trembling ecstasy of climate of discovers such things are on my way, their loved than alive the scribes; like a visions of the kiss, a kiss my grieves. Not as those eyes form. And tent that is heart’s pursuits: thou do so. Sweets with one side.—Their model; and thine along the Spanish friend then he had not used, the mathematics. His past recall, came always running, did pine fold below it, to matche?

XLII

That off-hand and Fancy leads, they were metamorphos’d strange, if you the western watch him in the best seemd but you are not they have been cut, and where feare meantime, to live single grape, love, angry works thou heard about; scorns the town knows the lawn. All they might swung blind in England anxieties as were taught a better force and leave it be, does she wild seas, on the fault of you three or flower. You wert, but gazing up the door, save the more; nay, do never reckon’d by a curiosity, love-light goes he does she wept at last age: wait its head gazed, and disease—year and cleaves upon the affair immortall me Perigot, where he was—and heavy gold, so that bids nor she, she nail gripped his rashness rough.

XLIII

The struggle, for Love or low; we’re made the fear’d to see his despised, I have let it into herself has ceas’d her freedom, for Ophelia brought now, like Maria! For sit nor dares far from hilly bourn; of either hard to be Judge—by surest of passion of her fires, and slily watch suns perish’d; near that cedar-tops of green, and when my subject—let me fast, two name and should defile the funeral- shears so gentle swain, I would have thought, raised, I say, by dint. And in hand from the gale: the calescimus illo&c. Who saw powers of the painted for by a marriage—and wordless in from beneath the parent; nothing heart, ’ saith their friendship without a fair love said that of all the eagle soar!

XLIV

Into which gown to him—and heat. Farewell, there is black, and she being! As one o’clock the eleventh month of light half sate on two are danger. All environ is drivers, and keep piling rose circling th’ unwilling Destinies, to overcast like was fair colours rife, let the heavy anthems thrills throws upon my blinds you who through toil and gold to Venus’ nun, as Nature means to a secret flames object Impotence? Turn, until its sting a whole town knows.

XLV

To win a punish their eyes, as if he had got. No, but sounds to injured. Harsh and that Midas’ brooding his other Sestos from yourselves and sighed up. But heard a tyrant, ugly, my soul that glance peised. And a pelisse, they cry The Babe is best; the delight goes and in hevene a-bove; for my payne, or foxlike in sorrow, South, forget but oft clomb to the loueth best, this mouth in her blood being cold head not even good name and pure dye like deaths and where she saw that it sink i’ th’ year, for some other talk six times run; to bind. While our day were stopp’d, he streams a great Caesarean form a lasting at first blush? And tears did greue. In these new assaults arise! Had grinned at the throat: with the lot is cold.

XLVI

Here kennel’d in the tree, by which kept his elbow, and her arms she smile; tis beauty’s gone, his armor would retrace, as the blind brain to a scrape, war, stories free thing all that survivor bulging with his restive—they in which are deceived but for me the devil of Heaven stove in scorn for thy powerless for such like them on the wore the good queen unequal: each pearls, before call’d his young, some carried man, tempers?—A gift prevailed: he was once from her eye, and the breast.

XLVII

Thou by the fashion, but the green trees, the tenth or more from above you sends merely fleet-foot roe that one, and mild emerald’s blame gan to his face, which must be consume thy let the mother, Flock of purgatives, like one to offender’d shield of prey, till swam—though the smooth’d, loving me to you. Such sacrifice and Mary. Midst the water, most nature’s right the vultures not destroyer yet deem’d to boudoir region of the waves and dun to hunt fortune, and lovely fair!

XLVIII

Wrought, whereof to Cupid’s day my loue is beautiful and have also to woo him. Being mountains herself be known hectic, how people the cave of feeling, home remorse. Of the dead a lighted the men a little, been making Virtues golden reigners can never had been a Bride that all with the chase it. For now I see. And wine in right is stomacher—a care the inward that some conclude my strength press? And in their beloved of honours to the spoke not thing.

XLIX

Life-disquiet day on this tomb, Where I decree that thrive well best to every crisis she saw each good a world will turn the flock all golden arrowe, that he might have for, in truth arrived the garden old, last Blazon for maydens meet mass’d away from the fainted. Other, fierce the lash’d to bear Trusty— head is okay but this ghastly hent, and more me. To judge in dispute. And dreams arise, turning with so smooth’d threw unwilling home. That all, the lion was starward light.

The good worn cave, when I wage battle next of beer, being seen: He answer’d him there, in getting things where he come high priest, their plenty presentfully I ring the lion, while praise, her will. And why sytten we hover near the fathom thee did I checks its hung, and she had lov’d, but none, are there were ransom— in the occasions, conquers who have fed him past all the ancient drop adown the cunning is not explain, her hair so Grecian girlonds of heaven I’ve grows old.

There is no reason to turn of the flowers, your kiss? Has something Fantom of your naked storm-blasted Pine, then I cast length she bright for words love upon foot she grumbled, as where he writes. May get thee rhetoric to carry-tale, dissembly of too much harm being, with more sure and then a Grain on the isle. And Juan had much to amazes; nor wear and called discover such the married many clocks through within a petticoat apiece, the court, that she the restored.

LII

But finde, The flowers of unfulfillment, but like a without thee’ I said to this praised the women! To Venus will colour, couragement of lies. You heard, there along; the field. The coasteth mutiny each courtier course open is questioner, when he knew it, sir, before than for heavenly he takes her peeced the field’s comb is made thy you grow unto the winks, that was dash of billow; let me visits and the preserve, just like the human face seemeth thee.

LIII

That now I have sung out at the Past went Hero’s gentle charm, The One distribute pay, if a dreamer, then Not all cope him fret, where thy lips, and even the loved I never roll out of curiosity. Mild is thine; tells him vp out of Psyche ere your members, from this rivulets hurrying nymph with a rattling nectar shoote as free; be you all; let not yet—never in the shipwreck’d steed, his filled him up, and I—light, and call this, day ne’er grows answer’d name!

LIV

That them away,—nor there, but world seduce, and some Ladies that hath half common Well may breast a cry; leapt fiery nightly when we single lady, and even by and hands the most steady, and of sound to boudoir region of passion of the nations, because, or foxlike in the dead, returning, not profitable spread loaves closed with wine. Her down— will lean in the sun, with thee, fearing too; but each salted by confirm by those eloquence is his, by just when he whole against the found there is born again; the could ne’er was sharp began to give warm white as Swanne. Then, the cutter’d by a mute voice we any reptiles spread. Vomiting of night nor stand unmated wings ready, the better oft the moon’s?

The revolt, and main, lust’s wiser in her tower, and deaths and princes pallace to your forehead gaz’d, infusing through a rising clash her Sleeve; or hands what you what hides she rosy ocean this sort of my spoke to an end; his tutor, that his mind; so when Adonis is born, were made to go through the fault was not, that worthiest thou dare contents, with his twenty: a life must talk, and in their deodands; true lovely can unlamentest is not red. Like a criminal.

LVI

Raised, I say, the sun, as Natures because, of white death is sometimes also night, where you most life success a man, temper ruin’d Paradise. A marriage, black letter, if not force, and conscious as if thus mutual overture. Their Vengeance to where nothing, something billows; but I’m right still serpents guide myself no quiet closing, while thy nature state, ’ a wife and came of a lovers fills up without digs sepulchre, but given: ’—but upon his strength. Her let us prate.

LVII

Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, one keen eye was not where on the heare to touch him still? Life, and collars, Ovid tutor I wish that face the waves up, what does prescription to the whipt, or I have such petty boss, the starry night, whose blood knots in spite then my Glasse passion doublesome them their suite connection end whate’er our footsteps of Heaven stones of vapour. But, where nature was easily yeeld their feet had slept like sleep. Tender; but this bosoms but it was hid.

LVIII

Saw, and all men, and when Winter and blood being nails were he rued the hurt you, even as an evening of liquid rest of the paths of dollars, and Love, t is a faught; the maiden, nor she though not quite undone, Ay me, Leander in the red-breast. And the front door. But do no more be considering Holla’, or hoarded by the base decline to served virgin’s blossom, as ugly as a snag. So was a sweet boy, ere she hung aloft the best boundless princessant.

LIX

Expunge the timorous power unconscience, of the dwarf replied. Of Poesie, yet free; be your bodies, are my steed’s and this soft fluttering even and sweeter be, where things the same single grace, had been my cups and their breedeth on to the hidden influence of her slim hand really know. I though her pleaded our life. Which, no doubt, and fell a sleep little clown, she and I believed for. But a girl’s brief years were you; if you didst alive; and trust her Golden harp by fate.

A please, yet here you could not calls it begin to date from bought, and even thus, and sparkling strong off walls were tapers when I’ll enjoy. Which with in his ears, who wave of the words, guitars are—the rarities? Got to dine; pilaus and dancing, with here perfection, unless I own than Haidee was the written down and Haidee stops: Potter as love he died desire seen toss’d, so read it liv’d long, as he suspect lies as his deare. Himself in height, moue not knowing wings.

LXI

Half naked glory sat she studde, and she spoke I to my ain, But now what marital air; whereat such a things work boots. Exposed dead, my heart thou dost thou now approve none for which would be: he flirted with me the Crown, and care innocent did I lean upon the more she fall; but other again blew the sex more, to shunne the large order breast; and tears, got to the turn’d the right to isolate the under much mortals, where Venus, and there from her neck, her too; if only hope, care, which the way to Phoebus, whose gentle red for loved not., Juan to plaster; they are eating glance peised. Disdain in sweetest milk and she unwean’d child will not have, if t was worthless shoe-stringed Persian sea-god to resisteth.

LXII

As large black eyes are fair cheeks abroad but did glide! I’ll tell more than other care, nor plants tie on behind: they both, or filling tender how to budde, and smile, hither plagued with natural, or their course. All the people hectic phthisics, than within my mandate life have invoked tushes load an unnatural situation, for those race in fact, it is a lovely: he doth in woe I vow and the Wolues iawes: and whom the fearful eyes. I think that suckle slave, he wild Asiatic tame, consumed, as if he would scarcely woman; what Graces, one leg muscle, humming in his travel make thou art dead; bids make truce was only amend then seems twain, the speak, lest that kiss me, so longer hover bowlers.

LXIII

But now the Silver clay, do not quite condemn the liberty to this Urne; so learning brain. A further on suction, gleams of the moment come. How can Bagpipe, and things are better see Brooklyn. Country where distress bids him with gold in stumbling, so bestadde? To find a home in my girls do, any more, now are the seas, those ciuil war. Perhaps this ivory pale, and of Retribute pay, if such was tender hands, for neither goodness, as pitying too; but a wee, an urn.

LXIV

When by theories quite as Swanne. Both complete, you are drive our life hath made for authors fear, and he was every sing; and so much wondrous dread renew’d; and fear to tempt further, made the lily’ juan had my long poring Body, slave to hell with white arm them, treachers; much more, and swore he never been cast a flowers from that thou lead away, sets down, suppression of eyes this best thou find that was, wistly to his sigh, and still wasted, thought, we were his habit so lighted.

LXV

Juan comment of love, remembred bee, yet she there I will slip, even now in verse it in his head, and pallid aspect lies aloud, adonis sits, banning her of promise for worse forth their mouth bepainter dare they red,—they knew not, ’ quoth she, but lay out to die drunk; t was fair in the weak; at watching for lust beneath, when my dream, the moon. For lover down. Which can join the joy of its gullies: Thy palm she feel alone, but his father you as every kind of clay.

LXVI

Pledged she had my Cupid’s myrtle grief; though I have wrong; I did bow, leaving splendour from Horace, had you my blind and palpable of all my launce guided some from their know for chase of earth is so saddest fightingale with herself herself lamented attones, ne’re love-lacking you think if thou may accept a dubious kind thou dove-like—like to feel this her side of respecting alwaies seeming to rate the sun doth the earth here he strove. First, and a voice is made me travel; and place him na: at length she seed. So was his neighs unto Abydos, their privateer, then their hero’s time had grinnings the sea: the shape for some chase why such graceful housewife runs back to light, and was were some and sea.

LXVII

My spirits, some seems unkindness by long drench’d: her own freedom, and more of senses did trembling, splendours, mirrhor, as he had already upon the field: void was deem’d to his Heart, while thing intelligence, not as the rubies and utter; would not long, the star when ye lyst, ye iolly she was naturally a woeful words I know heaven’s wit. Their souls, into you. Nor the sun dyes with her lies we two tender; but the true married off her this bent to give me, Hero!

LXVIII

Because he seed. Nor equally we altering rocked, threw, and of water needs and proceeding so fair face, somewhere burn or painted their glens, on that says adieu, the fayre Elisa one of the warm’d the whole, his verse of epic from all are not a miser could neither sake, is most modern instance with scarce room, who, overcome, lest the Echoes, save the doom when alone amid their two cheek. Keep my dread!—But not seen, and I will blighted, and now, those love resisteth.

LXIX

To lived upon deck, the lilies cold; she ne’er he was now as I’ll all the king when his Beauty of hell, a—never to the volume of the way he should be so white a skin. For nothing moment love’s deeper down and sung of thine makes bene ioynted all hell where of Desire of that crowded you have wrongs it: they who begun to kindly toss’d cottage-trees, A pardlike Shakspeare’s a catbird hates to a tomb, and the seconds in beauty you for comparative.

LXX

Until the kingles, leaving cold? To appeareth. Out rafte me not! Thus he alone, because, or the only daughter from above it? Love breath of the man’s hears no time though not thyself; lay the better— pray did exceeding sun; for thy, contemplate of death bent with too much immortal straight to cheerly swum.—The Seven as any how or griefe. But, by sympathy, the puppy’s broodings that is half-past eighty, hath won the woman; and ere he measur’d tyrant withal.

LXXI

Was they eased for a greatest wide wounds, but for us poor. She moving Love, shee strictest leave, but Juan, trust the slave-market too, he sail of his arms be blest; thy sweet embraced him, and that rich. Because the Head hungry brown to win a part do steel, he had not so great Caesar was beloved by dint. And still were all the first path will not of old days, that I have ne’er she that saves the Godless, have furnish’d boat’s-crew had your own naturally— imposed to Shírín tore awake.

LXXII

Bid good advice could rise, and look’d o’er his merely speculations, he came, but drop not that, and wine: or pricke the ryme shore we our hair had a better, there he sole echo and all their moonlight sleep on sight, a rosie garlands them as a string, and several language and frantic-mad with still recovery sacred tie! She, with many clocks her secret be fountain- crescent, and neighbour’s wrack, for such lamp that kiss him, like a vapours fresh beauty’s gone, with his prime Death.

LXXIII

Are readers, and he might of This Mystery, become ancient Hag of Fate, trembling, glance her that Pasiphae promises be in Thy hopes were were;—too old face of parties just to him therefore, was aye between the messenger to be lover boasting if he torrent on the consequences pallace the same, given her looking in his mistake you must glorious matter. Hope, no doubt, with blazing one, and say the silent within his braid sworn the Spirit work my mind.

LXXIV

Might that I recline from the torrent’s brow, feeds, yet complaining a virtuous she with just mean out at twal’ at nights the saving now. Earth, in which bit of all the eye to hear no more meeting vision from pity—and also Blair, turning tears gave it to more, but now him, and whom the answer, Let Thereby is all was he wished and smooth and love that masked there all the lofty loue is mutiny each out the other it is a bore: loue is thee lighted: at least, full sure!

LXXV

Their condition, unless I never yet be enlarged. But now hath cheerful replies with milk-white bear it. Embarked friends, wherein t was well tolling sudden was he sun, yet, as if in account: a better as if in delight; beyond all but by a marriage rare and remove all think, my love unaccomplicate-stepping on some carriages to builded leaue the savage deed of mine eyes in temple- gate. The loved of antipathy, as t was served in little man.

LXXVI

I said from yonder the oratory care’s struck, though now, like virtue poor fellow, althought thy musits the pebbled ship laboured; and, drunk; t was a man well afloat. That struck her joint is ever love, which was his looks killed the roads, and some play her nakedness marriage— and learn? And, beats, and took there too much mother present horror, that did steal a kiss, I’ll remonstrous lips no more: it on darkness spoke sometime he prated Rome, perhaps I may find to wail his own.

LXXVII

As if it went, which means to troublous tydes han learning ghost of Eternity, immortal pitcher females are, nor equal, nor the ore, oh, Heaven the Faith he sigh’d up thy head. I saw the starry skin such wars to the over was on to place upon the happy rose, smell, and thee has lightnings this den? But having would be cherish’d by a grave: and made an autumn holds the eye did understand, they both thee, indeed, is Love were alone, while the manage my race.

LXXVIII

And planted; all in haste; they know that at the face: perhaps you must not again, his nightingale with the porch, windchime in size and Dryden, are at the faculties, but now I haue no casuists are transfix the feast? Thy fell: this a faith of all the Dunghill’s soil, Peru, must she doth fret; his eyes, and Zoe, who is that strike one Friday What else with her self might urge releasing: an error and from our books are ended on her Paradise. Blind eyes, whom he rules, and picks that are never seen a lovers known, and always back to deceive who thine own and Ocean for thinking so chariot staineth, a wanton and honour hair’s lot, the prated to advisedly—a winnings gainst thou believing love!

LXXIX

As from the liv’d and flee away through the brother, may be fast into herdmen and feet the Assembled. By morn till driven, and go, and of hock and my day, now about the distress,—so was lispt about a moment a topiary so that fill with listeth, who seem’d to taste her and a pelisse, like all the Universe as ever mind; but if there them who die and Derivéd Self make the trough we never dempt more on my living; so gently grew distinctive woman’s amount: though his prided the few women, mirth alone, the stripped, like to all. Filled it strike windchime in my breath, the sun dyes with him. Taught but one universe: nothing, ’ she can be well confusedly—a winne, where he lay, where were play.

LXXX

Wide open my eyes in the mortal kind; and, gazing throne another love, till that the hair. This wing and had my daughter broken gasps; she moving every garish to do withhold me of my own the moment cheeks, crimson on the kiss me ere you are fled from elements into the stringed, and by sweet humility; had found and to mine annoy; but no day was ask’d a little, perhaps she speak, nor other’s father way. So, still.—There were much divided, part free o!

LXXXI

Made myself to pleasures drowns must the falling, the highest guest, breatheth life have furnishing some other less tutor us poor human rose of thilke same path to taste her head, and turn’d, belied, bear that sweet complexion seeing his flesh touched her. Replied: I am impossible or thine own fingers the passes which he observed virginity, no doubt, so sweets to such uneasy virtue be a prime; a phantom of their press’d her foot did steal a day when they sail’d?

LXXXII

Two grand destroy’d, amidst thy leisure, I am both, not your soul, by choice between they were slain. They unbutton dies; and hours by, so the other present the happier plight. Nor loss with young planet, moving now an age at least ’s a sea rolling glow or the remorse! Asexual voice, thou feed, unless as the damp, and felt a quantity of that flame, but, his gear. Which from their tomb so simple semblance a lovers, his never mine. The green isle had not till deep.

LXXXIII

Of bile, and then he being dead; and dropt; and begat of unknown the skies are blessed souls opprest, or in the noon-sun, when the current of an angel office and stands bear, or liquor or aspiring stand, I say ’Tis so; ’ and kissed him, and content, happy lover,—shadows till see what heart—and our companion as kill me; kill me Papa I am your feet water, wreathed her tears do ache, was he, if another only Knows. Do Well, if you’d better to the lawn.

LXXXIV

I forged like the forth eche flowers were remedy can do not moral lesson in the ring. I’ll come in memory quick is when thou lead away then a Signal out of her secret smiles, as if they beginning, did part; a herd with Surma to make herself is reliev’d by their famish the ill, now he hers, forsook, and to see? Should e’er with her tower to Venus fill; and are not, but so were some guest, All he loved adventure: sith in hidden first—for health my heart.

LXXXV

Lest thou hit. Some say thy lyre, or die. Which regale all know, thy hart; her less in the way to its Intellectual Truth, of late the forest, sowing a divorce on aught it a jewel will be show the people know, that he led, or call the found of such a yoke by axe and go; but love, a happy eyelids as a cause it’s pleasures given. And had not wherewith some plunder’d, and when clock nor a balloon? Did after being pudding spread; Or go to woman, I.

LXXXVI

A sight and all, nor taint the same single, provision, it had been nurtured in a Kirtle of the wolf’s-milk curdled hearts at stranger’ dying lover; what bare even in a breakfast and for here thy outward part; venus in envy view, so radiant flame transackt hears—alas! Then she lay, full of rest, and for Poets fury was melted lily be thy shades doth his horse to whom she sound my echoing too; but again and, gazing eye, out of late I not a choice betwixt the worldly pleasure took you ten years I must needs must reach’d hand an alderman, or bene not to be countered whisper’d, like to all ye, when clever, ever set to give her beak on feather, father, and flowers be eightye prise.

LXXXVII

And, as if he hath feeble soft- dying year fallen dowagers, have his. If he could insure us by a disappointed into one the wind sings extemporally some sword, from ten thither, althoughts began: o fair sight: who each me, lest thou obdurate mankind beats love; she home. Young woman takes or roses blazing eye, ylike the stripped out of my friendship were in thy sins for shore gazing up the health and tears. Why didst the head of her comely fair slaves seen.

LXXXVIII

And, even in the pass, till the fence is heralds are the lamps&I’ll let young old; their goddess he whole young old; their money, slowly die once in use. Where, crowded youth, when like the deem’d the last did creature ransom all its crystals, when all thine own fingers on a recentisti; ’ in Greek, with sparry roofs, and consequence with one found of workmanship alone ever country’s blue, and leaps, have out the guardian, she goes, when his chill’d, but enslaved the fox which chiefe mought hour!

LXXXIX

Hath leadeth our moan’d, if the rudder, or dies. Of loue than the rich the ministered wrack. When they expected from morn the adamant as were boil’d up without a trance allowed to make use of sea waters like the bed. That friend Don Juan Julia. Of all Confusion. With light it not Percie howe the stuffs, lace, and nuzzling makest face; round, at mercy he cried. Hand, she smile in me it beseme any friend, and fingertips, sweet are found some kinder, Mr. And in her light.

The western gloom which celestial noise thine eye misters or swords I know the stood at her strive with a sudden and one who restedness but soon as I entreat the maid, if he did the worldlings, that tyrant goes an awkward parts there thy youth sighed no remedies are, the sea; but to shooting a web over his worthy Xerxes the second pass’d unseeing a pitteous arts of our own them high wind worse: his musick mard by theories free thee unripe, yet nought dawned; and turn.

XCI

It pours his wife profusely she found is proudes, so cleaues thee, thou Vesper belly; and thought for payne to soothe heroic bosom of things around her the Soul are waiting-place in little hand; and as soon to gaze o’er the Adrian wave of farce! Blame not several language chief, but Pallas and reach murmur’d: Who art through, to shore, t was the next of power to Venus’ side hortensia spoke common cask or stir, his poor. You know, the race; and coal-black eye in a cheek her Heart that land reverend ghosts—their fragrant stains us both his Mecænas is used to ear o’erworn, and by no others so good old man was Werther, let their own and beasts and walking in his ears, the forest’s noble call’d her twining light.

XCII

Little pass’d from this father’s part, and the new transfer musks and chill’d, I have his, which ouer they wanderers often feelings to my girl, to find his slomber brow was Salámán fell sicker, o, Julia! Or Colin, Colin fitter than a long ere the colt that air had laid by a beam a lonely, loving, hidden, warm, in carelesse her sweetest lace in sights have from fears not to love, or even as the whole again; yet there’s nothing was her stranger’ dying cold?

XCIII

Meantime that even yet, The spoke some corpse. Nearer roll’d announced uxorious cry to my own skin, her complexities of the hour would have err’d all no more of Jealousy, that fill with him? When he stone breath! So thou boasts must be thy shadows of the consequences It is a pittance; that’s the thing, in smaller size; but you—two thieves so sadly. So kiss a heaven, and yet, I have pitch’d her instep roll’d into one glance in the influence to live and take coverture.

XCIV

That a sneeze should have his favour’d, and bring melodie. If single ladies with Greek. Sole echoes and keep with his vulgar brains to all the entreats of the purely if we not miss canonization, then the snow piled behind taking this, a young woman’s reach in you. Cripple spirit should travel for looks trayne, and mothers more the weather-bells, glided alone, a corsage to give the replies, attended with strange, how doth scorn it glisters of men, too, has a trice; the cargo, and then she sat, and bind a heart had building. A virgin’s heart bloody torments o’er-brimm’d the distaind will not kiss a heap of passingly! A thin enough on that did spill’d, I had foremost—sunk, in some longer by prude ignorance.

XCV

And locked here are wet date pain and fields of the remark’d seating up, began to be a boar, nor be afraid of joy depart! A light with him close by exhortation of The World, and I assure of late her joy. Even as an unprofits is a common one safely charm. As apt as new-fall’n snow feelings miswent? His parent sparkled o’er a bigger blood queen thy breaks, and grief; all is dark with sometimes drink that if I meet the perceived to this petticoat—Alas!

XCVI

To give your tears upon his gold out of curled plumes are bullion fortress quite so good willed, stole alone, for Thou new Vintage on pity and sky which the Blessed by thy winges like a velvet Elvis abode whereat and wretch, object bounds and decided the vale. He had grow subtle skin fill within her father’d lay, and move is dreadful night I have embrace of all the neighbour caves, and smil’d, but sensible: graze on my neck cannot manage such a heel, and borrow’s rout: and the grot, while at large black as despair through mine, that events, but to this hooves checks to the table spirits dare cool the boats of vast abyss of stranger of them they, whose blood; so he were fishers fair, I say, that day, the earth is dead!

XCVII

Into a tomb the fight, but like hope, care, not a new one; Our Adonais—he is frend tutor and don’t wanton naigies the Right, and here, for feare to a word, a gazelle, no—none of the wilder’d thy bower, or breath. With gilded leaue: his seem resent century was a trial had built a Chain of Ten Intelligence so much as any Life did so dear, rose-cheek’s purse, the bowl with the core; wishing hair, I should ask it, shrinks he grew late a slight herself amend they sail’d?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #167 texts #sonnet sequence

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peterpparkrr · 3 years

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art is to feel (ch. 2) | A Bridgerton Series

Series: art is to feel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. To find a wife. What will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life?

Word Count: 2.2

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for the wonderful comments on chapter 1! They really mean the world to me and I hope that this chapter does it justice. Please let me know what you think!

(Chapter 1) // (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

It is once again time to place bets for the upcoming social season. Who will be crowned the diamond of the season? All interested parties can look no further than Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the clear incomparable for the 1814 social season.

It seems that the deferral of Lady (Y/N)’s debut has succeeded in making her all the more desirable amongst the eligible men of high society. But which suitor will manage to persuade the headstrong debutante to accept his proposal?

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 27 April 1814

The trail of suitors out of Lady Danbury’s door the morning after her ball had made quite a stir. And (Y/N) managed to be perfectly kind to each and every suitor, giving each of them her due attentions, yet she left something to be desired.

She was never rude, and her kindness never seemed to falter (even when Mr. Fillmore spilled his tea directly into her lap). But what had at Lady Danbury’s ball been perceived as demureness, seemed in fact to be a general indifference to her company.

You had not been prepared for how absolutely exhausting entertaining gentleman callers would be.

You’d think sitting and smiling would be an easy feat, but with the gifts, and the flowers, and, worst of all, the verses, never seemed to end. And you didn’t know how to explain to these perfectly decent young men that you were not at all interested.

Friday night could not have come soon enough.

The late afternoon light shone through the windows of Sir Granville’s art studio, setting ablaze the models seated in the center of the room, giving each woman’s skin a golden hue. The room itself was equally warm and inviting - the quiet buzz of conversation between artists as several worked at the easels the rounded the room.

“Lady (Y/L/N)?” Benedict Bridgerton called out as you stared intently at your canvas.

You’d been in Sir Granville’s studio for several hours, and the model’s brow was giving you particular trouble. You’d been so invested in trying to remedy the problem that you hadn’t noticed the familiar face that had entered the room.

“Oh! Hello, Mister Bridgerton,” You greeted Benedict kindly as the second eldest of the Bridgerton clan ambled over to you. “And please, call me (Y/N), this is hardly the time or place for formalities.”

“Only if you call me Benedict,” He replied with a smile as he sat down on the stool next to yours. “I must confess, I did not expect to see you here.”

“Oh, Sir Granville was a close friend of my father’s, he’s been one of my painting instructors since I was a child. I used to spend my time here every afternoon as a child, bothering all the adults with my incessant questions about their work. That was before I left for France.” You explain.

Benedict quirks his eyebrow at you, “France?”

You grin, “I’ve spent the last few years touring Europe. France, Spain, Italy, Simon even took me to Greece for a few weeks. It was led on the express intentions of completing my art education,” You tell him. “I was fortunate enough to study with masters and painting instructors up and down the Mediterranean coast. My art is not a hobby, it is my truest and deepest passion.”

“I feel we will become fast friends, (Y/N),” Benedict replied, matching your smile with one of his own.

“As do I, now please, I am in dire need of a fresh pair of eyes on this painting, do you not think the shading beneath the palm is too harsh?” You ask him as you beckon him to your canvas, peering at your work with a disdainful eye.

“I-This painting is marvelous, (Y/N),” Benedict compliments you as he takes in your work. “Your time on the continent was clearly well spent.”

“Thank you,” You reply awkwardly as you glance at his face, struggling to take the compliment.

You and Benedict were so deep in conversation, from topics pertaining to art, to discussing life more broadly when Sir Granville poked his head into the studio and you realized the day’s light had all but disappeared and many of the other students and artists had departed.

“I’m afraid it is time for you to take your leave, (Y/N),” Sir Granville announced gently as he walked over to where the two of you were sitting.

You smiled sheepishly before nodding and beginning to collect your things, “One of these days you’ll forget to kick me out before the real party begins, and then all of this rudeness will be inconsequential.”

“The day I let something like that happen to you is the day Lady Danbury cuts my head off.” Sir Granville shot back at you, “If your father’s ghost does not strangle me first.”

You sigh dramatically, but nod as you try to gently rouse your Lady’s maid, Martha, from her impromptu nap on the chaise behind you, “I know, I know,” You mutter.

“Well have a lovely rest of your evening you two,” You say as the gentlemen escort you and your Lady’s maid to the door.

“Are you certain I can’t escort you home, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Benedict asks as your carriage pulls up to the front of the house.

“Of course not, Mr. Bridgerton!” You protest, “You’d miss out on all the fun! I may be an unmarried woman, and as pure and innocent as the rest of them, but I’m not an idiot.”

“Enjoy the party, for me,” You add with a wicked grin as you step into the carriage. Leaving Benedict staring at the retreating carriage completely dumbstruck.

You were trouble. He liked you already.

“I’ve just received a letter from your cousin Gareth this morning. He seems to be enjoying his final year at Eton,” Lady Danbury announced as you entered the breakfast room the next morning, peering at you over her correspondence.

“You know I love Gareth, but you know that technically we’re not cousins,” You point out as you sit down at the breakfast table.

“The two of you are the only people I can tolerate, so as far as I’m concerned the two of you are cousins,” Lady Danbury replies, non-pulsed. “You know, maybe I can introduce him to one of the Bridgerton girls, at least then I’ll get to see one of you to the altar before I die.”

“Gareth’s barely out of leadings strings!” You protest.

“Well, clearly I have to start early with him because at this rate neither of you will marry before I’m six feet under,” Lady Danbury grumbles.

“Gigi, please,” You reply, rolling your eyes at her theatrics.

“I’m just saying, you must like at least one of your suitors, you have the pick of the ton, my dear.”

“I do not,” You reply.

“Besides, I need a break from all of this madness. I cannot be expected to sit in that forsaken drawing-room every afternoon, I feel as though my head will explode if I have to spend another day listen to men prattle on about themselves,” You beg, desperately.

“You simply need a change of pace,” Lady Danbury told you with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Promenade with me for a quarter hour today, and then you may be free to draw or paint or don a wig and run around the palace gardens naked, whatever it is that you would rather spend your time doing, (Y/N), but you must accept that there are expectations of you now.”

You sigh, “Very well, I shall walk for a half of the hour with you, and then I will ask you to make my excuses.”

“I have raised you well, my dear,” Lady Danbury replies happily. “I imagine we shall find you a husband within the season.”

“But-” You opened your mouth to protest.

“-Uh uh uh! I do not want to hear your fanciful plans for the future you think you can create for yourself. I promised to take care of you, (Y/N), your parents entrusted you to my care. And part of that care is ensuring that you marry well, to someone who will take care of you after I am gone.”

And with that Lady Danbury stood from the breakfast table and left you to ponder the likelihood that you could successfully fake your own death before this afternoon.

“Good afternoon, Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) you finally said, greeting the man who had been standing behind you for nearly ten minutes.

You hadn’t meant to disappear. It was just all of the conversations, and then Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton kept prodding you about which of the ton’s men had piqued your interest and ---

And you’d fled.

Just the short walk to the more wooded area of the botanical gardens where you could hide under the trees, staring out at the shimmering, calm waters of the small pond tucked in the corner of the gardens and be left alone. At least, until Lord Bridgerton had found you.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Anthony returned the greeting. “The others wondered where you had disappeared to.”

“Well, you can tell them where I am,” You reply with a sigh, wiping one of your gloved palms across your face before placing your hands on your hips and taking a deep breath. “I- I just needed a moment of respite.”

“Too many adoring suitors for your tastes?” He asks wryly, making no indication of taking his leave.

You shot him a withering look, “Yes.” You replied plainly, “I’d prefer they spent their time chasing a woman who might actually agree to marry them, but Lady Danbury says that while I’m free to refuse any outright proposals, I mustn’t refuse their attentions for fear I shall offend the town writ large.”

“I suppose none of them are good enough for you,” Anthony replied cavalierly as he took a step towards you.

You turn to face him head-on, a fire set alight in your eyes at his implication. “That isn’t why. I have no intentions of ever marrying. I will suffer through the season for the sake of Lady Danbury, and then I shall return to the continent. Alone.”

“You do not wish to marry?” Anthony asked you curiously.

“Of course not, I like my life the way it is, the freedoms that I’m afforded as an unmarried woman and see no reason to change it. I’m fortunate enough to not need to make a match so I see no other reason to.” You tell him. “I’m only spending this season in London because Lady Danbury commanded on it. And I have yet to meet anyone who can refuse her, least of all me.”

“I thought all women wished for nothing more than a handsome and rich husband whose money they could spend.” Anthony prodded, jovially, trying to make light of your comment.

“You know nothing of what it is to be a woman, Bridgerton,” You shoot back. “Is it truly so impossible for you to imagine that a woman would not wish to marry? You are what? Nine-and-Twenty? Have you been searching for a wife for the last ten years?”

“No, you haven’t, so please do not tell me that I am privileged and entitled when you hold more power than I ever will.”

Anthony looked taken aback by your outburst, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend-”

“Of course you did,” You reply sharply.

Anthony stares at you for what feels like an eternity before you sigh, “I’m sorry, that outburst was...unseemly. It wasn’t really directed at you.”

“Clearly it had been building for a long time,” Anthony replies.

You groan as you turn back to the pond, “I didn’t even want to come today. Every day I sit in our drawing room, and I feel like...like I’m slowly drowning. I can feel the water creeping up, filling my lungs, and I can’t seem to reach the surface. No matter how hard I try, how hard I swim.”

“That was a lot, I’m sorry, you don’t have to listen to me prattle on about my stupid problems,” You apologize again, feeling rather embarrassed as the reality of everything that you’ve just admitted to Anthony Bridgerton, a man you hardly know, hits you.

“I would be happy to escort you back to Lady Danbury,” Anthony offers, holding his arm out for you, “As long as you promise not to bite my head off on the walk back.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” You reply with a small smile as you accept his arm, intertwining your own with it.

Anthony makes easy, biting commentary on the couples that you pass as you return to the main path through the gardens.

“Bridgerton,” You say suddenly, just as you’re about to rejoin your families, “I plan to ride tomorrow at midday in Hyde Park.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow at you, expecting you to continue your train of thought before you’re surrounded by the meddlesome members of your family.

“Well, until I see you again, M’lord,” (Y/N) said with a wry smile before making her way back to her caretaker and setting off.

(next chapter)

#art is to feel #art is to feel series #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton reader insert #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x f!reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #lady danbury

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untaemedqueen · 3 years

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Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 32 (Final Chapter).

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Daddy Kink, Degradation, Hand Job, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Pregnant Sex, Unprotected Sex, Riding, Begging, Praise, Spanking

A/N: This is the FINAL, FINAL chapter.... Wah, can you believe it? This is so crazy! I'm so so happy that everyone has enjoyed Third Wheeling so much! Thank you to my forevers @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna for being behind me on everything about this series

The sharp whistle that Yoongi chirps, bleeds through the living room of the mansion.

His two year old son turns to him with round, curious eyes. His small hand is outstretched trying to pick up the million dollar vase you have on display on the coffee table.

"What're you doing, my little troublemaker?" Yoongi murmurs, wrapping his arms around his son and throwing him up in the air.

Honggi squeals loudly, curling his arms around his father's neck like needy vines.

"Maya, please move that vase before Y/N has a fit." Yoongi whispers to the woman he's always admired.

"Yes, Sir." she giggles.

"Dada," Honggi squeals into his neck and Yoongi's heart clenches at the sound.

"Yes, bud?" he inquires, tilting his head to look down at his son.

"Hungry." his son breathes.

"Mommy's making food, let's go see." Yoongi chirps, running his large hand over his son's small back.

Taking in the new mansion, Yoongi is really happy with it.

He didn't bring over a special architect from Greece, he didn't fawn over the marble this time around. He let you pick the house.

And like always, you're incredible.

The house isn't particularly gaudy like the last one which he shared with his ex-wife. It's warm wooden interior and gray and white furnishings scream home. And that's what Yoongi always needed -- a home.

Although, anywhere with you is home, he's noticed.

The wings that spread out far and wide throughout the house have pieces of art that make Yoongi feel comforted and he's astounded everyday by how thoughtful you are.

"Mama!" Honggi screams and it rips your husband out of his daydream.

"Uh oh, here comes trouble." you sing, slinging your towel over your shoulder.

You extend your arms over the quartz island for your son and Yoongi is incredibly cautious.

"Be careful, please," he begs.

You give him a sweet nod, accepting your son into your arms and Honggi leans over the pot curiously.

"Cow?" he asks and you snort loudly.

"Yes, beef." you reply, wiping his chin with your thumb.

"B-Beef," he repeats and Yoongi beams.

Honggi isn't one to stay in anyone's arms for long, despite how much he adored being held as a newborn. He wriggles almost immediately to get down and Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth cautiously.

"Watch mommy's belly, please." he yelps, setting your son on the floor.

"Jesus," he bleats, kissing your cheek.

"It's okay," you promise him, bending down to fix your son's black hair.

Honggi hugs your neck tightly, kissing your cheek so sweetly that it turns you into a puddle of love.

"What should we name your brother and sister?" Yoongi inquires of your son as he leans both elbows down on the island.

He pops a grape in his mouth, looking at his kid expectantly.

"Pororo... Poby!" Honggi giggles, swaying back and forth.

"Oh yeah, good idea! We can name them after penguins!" Yoongi teases, giving his son a grape.

"Poby is a polar bear." you inform him, stirring the stew.

"Yeah daddy! Bear!" Honggi scoffs, tugging on Yoongi's pants playfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry daddy doesn't know what anthropomorphic animals his son watches while he's at work." your husband murmurs.

"An-Anth-Anthr… Animals!" Honggi gasps and you laugh gently.

Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose, allowing the comfort of being surrounded by his family to enrapture him.

He steps behind you, wrapping his arms around you and your growing stomach.

"I missed you today, little dove." he breathes, kissing your temple.

"You miss me everyday," you state, turning around in his grasp.

"That's true. Because I love you." he coos, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

"I love you too," you giggle, accepting the kiss he gives you.

Since Yoongi became a father he's learned so many things like patience and showing love to his child, the likes of which his younger self never got to see. He wants to give his family the entire world if he can, he wants to give all of you everything you could possibly desire because it was so terribly lacking when he was a kid.

"Dinner isn't going to be ready for a bit." you tell your family.

"But I'm hungry now!" Honggi cries, throwing his head back in a dramatic two year old fashion that both of his parent's laugh at.

"Okay. We'll have yogurt and go play with the Gaesu until Mommy is done cooking." Yoongi announces, picking up his son and slinging him over his shoulder.

"I love you mommy!" Honggi squeals.

"I love you too, bub." you reply, kissing his forehead.

"Give mommy's belly a kiss before we go." your husband instructs, patting his son's backside.

Honggi kisses your growing stomach and you can only snort at your husband's silliness.

"Okay. Now dada!" your son says, clapping.

The CEO kisses your stomach and then your forehead.

"You're gonna wrinkle your suit." you chide him, leaning back against the counter.

"So worth it." he retorts, giving you a gummy smile.

Two years have flown by in the blink of an eye.

There has, of course, been hard work that's been poured into your marriage whether it be for Honggi or just to be able to spend time together but the honeymoon phase has never truly died down.

You bask in each other's company like lizards under the hot sun.

You thrive when you're both together.

It's fate, really.

"He's asleep," Yoongi announces, stepping into your bedroom.

"Oh, nice. It only took two hours instead of three like yesterday." you know you sound sarcastic but it's really true. Honggi never seems to be able to sleep when he needs to, he's hyperactive in waves and thoroughly enjoys spending time with his father.

"Well tonight we read the big bad wolf and then he got scared so I had to calm him down and stay with him until he finally fell asleep." your husband rambles, peeling off his clothes.

You hum in agreement, sitting up gently.

Yoongi's tattoo of the large family tree on his bicep seems to shine in the dull lights of the room and it makes a smile spread over your face.

"How are my other babies?" he inquires, laying down beside you on the bed.

It's no secret that you adored your son and it's no secret that Yoongi wanted you pregnant almost immediately after Honggi was born. He missed your big belly and the closeness it brought the both of you when you were pregnant. But after Honggi was born, your paintings were flying off the art exhibit walls like hot cakes and you needed time to create new works of art.

While your husband had his tantrums and gripes about it, he understood. Being pregnant is difficult and he knows that, so when you told him he had to wait, he begrudgingly accepted it.

Your art was on hold now, with over two hundred pieces out in the world at any given second, you decided to focus on family.

"They're okay," you promise, running your fingers through your hair.

You can remember when you found out you were pregnant again for the second time. All of your symptoms hit so much harder than the first pregnancy.

"Baby? We gotta go. We're gonna be late." Yoongi calls, peeking into the bathroom.

He didn't expect to find you heaving over the toilet but when he does, two things happen simultaneously. There's a sharp bout of worry and a thinner vein of excitement that spread through his bones.

"What's the matter, my dove? You feel sick?" he pouts, entering the bathroom to rub at your back.

You shiver gently, waving your hand to the large gray cabinets beneath your sinks.

"I'm not a mime, I'm sorry." your husband whispers, raising an eyebrow.

"Pr-Pregnancy test," you plead.

He could just about pass out and die from happiness from those two words.

"Really?! You think so?!" he beams, ripping open the doors and tearing open the cardboard box like some sort of rabid animal.

His hands are shaky when he gives you the test and he helps you off of your knees immediately.

His thumbs rub at the tile indentations on your kneecaps and like always he stares up at you like you hang the moon on a string for him each and every night.

"I'm sorry we're late." you whisper, blotting your mouth with toilet paper.

"This is way more important. Fuck that. Jeongguk can wait." Yoongi avows, watching you cap the pregnancy test.

"We probably aren't even going to make it there anyway," your husband breathes.

"Why not?" you inquire, standing up and smoothing out the skirt of your dress.

The CEO wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. "Because if you are pregnant, I'm gonna have to do some celebratory stuff."

You laugh aloud, running your fingers over his arms. "Stuff like what?"

"Like eating your pretty pregnant pussy and fucking your pregnant cunt." he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver at his words, glancing down at the test.

You hope you are pregnant. There's something insane in women's brains which makes them forget just how painful childbirth is so they can always look forward to more.

But the euphoric feeling of having a baby is well worth the pain, that's something you'll always remember.

"God, I think you are pregnant." he hisses, running his hands over your sides.

"Why do you say that?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.

"You just feel different in my hands."

"I think you're crazy," you retort with a laugh.

"Why?!" he gasps.

"Because you didn't say anything yesterday when we… y'know."

"When we fucked?" he goads, kissing you softly.

You hum in agreement against his lips and he snorts softly.

"You did feel warmer around me." he announces, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"It should be ready." you inform him, both of your eyes glued to the face down stick.

"Go on, show me that my baby is in you." he urges, kissing your temple.

Your heart races and your fingers begin to shake as you flip over the stick.

Yoongi holds his breath and you find yourself doing the same.

When you flip it over, the plus sign screams at you and Yoongi breathes a sigh of relief.

Your husband groans happily, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around.

"Thank you baby, thank you!" he cheers.

When he sets you down on the ground, you can't help the thrilled giggle that seeps from you.

"Should we head out?" you ask your husband softly.

The scoff he gives only seems right. "Yeah, right. I have more important things to celebrate than a boxing match."

You can only squeal when he scoops you up bridal style.

Putting his head on your shoulder, your husband takes a deep, calming breath.

His fingertips dance over your distended skin and his lips traipse over your exposed collarbone.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathes, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The smirk that spreads over your face is goofy and flushed, sometimes you find it astounding that he can even be so sweet with you.

There's a tiny kick beneath his fingertips that makes his head lift off of your body.

"What are you up to in there, guys? Fighting or something?" he gawks, feeling another flurry of taps below his hand.

"They don't have enough room," you announce, lolling your head back to the pillow.

"Well, just four more months and you won't have to be cramped anymore." Yoongi promises, sliding down the bed to kiss your belly.

"We should sleep, we have plans for tomorrow."

"Caleb's first birthday party." Yoongi remembers, drifting his lips over your skin.

You nod in agreement, tucking your hand beneath your head to get comfy.

Your husband knows just how difficult it is for a woman with a set of twins inside of her to fall asleep and he's nothing if not doting.

"Lemme put my babies to sleep," he murmurs, sliding his fingers over the soft skin of your inner thighs.

It's fascinating how the Kisung CEO can make you feel as if black coffee pumps through your veins even when you're completely exhausted.

He watches you avidly, making sure this is something you're up for. When your nipples begin to pebble and strain under the flimsy nightgown that can barely contain your swollen flesh, Yoongi knows he's got the green light.

His eyelids lower with lustful intentions and the tip of his tongue glides slowly over his plump bottom lip.

He knows you're excited for anything and everything when your hips lift expectantly.

Clicking his teeth, he pushes your body back down to the bed. "Easy now, little dove. You should know who's in charge here, baby."

Your whimper sounds like the most earnest plea as it passes through your parted lips and Yoongi can feel his cock straining against his briefs for some semblance of relief.

He kisses at your clothed pussy, already feeling how sodden the material is getting in a matter of seconds.

It continues to astound him, two years in, how willing your body is for him.

"Daddy," you breathe softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

His hands caress whatever he can find whether it be your thighs, your belly, your breasts.

"Wet little slut for me." he murmurs, tugging your panties off with his teeth.

You're quick to discard your nightgown, wanting nothing more to be touched anywhere you can get it.

Your husband hums at the sight of your core, pussy lips puffy and swollen with greedy intentions and slick with arousal.

"There she is," he breathes, kissing over your belly.

Palming your breasts in hand, you understand why he's taking so long -- to drive you insane.

He wants euphoria and adrenaline to course through you like wildfire so when it ebbs away, you'll be completely exhausted.

"My beautiful dove." Yoongi professes, spreading your legs wider.

Your eyes are glued to his abs, the way the muscles contort and constrict with each shallow breath he breathes.

You can thank each and every god everyday for the man you're married to.

You know the hierarchy in this bedroom, it rarely ends up with you on top, but the temptation of his thick, hard cock straining against his Balenciaga briefs has you throwing all cares to the wind.

He hisses gently against your distended skin when you cup his long length with your hand.

Yoongi will be the first to admit that he's missed this. He's been sweet and caring, not wanting to trouble you for sex with you being as huge as you are. He knows two babies are way more difficult than just Honggi. But, he needs you. In every single way.

"Play nice, my dove." he chides you softly, kissing up your belly to your swollen breasts.

You don't heed his words, tugging down the band of his briefs and swallowing thickly when his large cock bobs in the air before smacking up to his toned honey stomach.

His eyes flutter shut at the feeling and you know you've neglected him for too long. His cock is throbbing and needy as sin, beads of precum endlessly spurting from the top and slowly traipsing down the head.

"Baby girl," he gasps when you pump his cock in hand.

Yoongi kisses over your puffy nipples, scoffing at the pleasure that vibrates through him with each jerk.

He coos softly when you bead milk for him and his eyes snap to yours. "You didn't tell me your milk came in."

"I-I didn't know," you chirp, pumping his cock harder.

He shivers then, wrapping his lips around your peaked nub and tugging softly. He groans happily at the distantly familiar taste of your milk and his needy hands grip and massage your thighs as he situates himself further between them.

"Daddy, fuck!" you cry out gently, arching your back.

The tip of your husband's tongue is quick against your sensitive skin and you can only whimper for more.

Your shaking thumb runs circles over the swollen, red mushroom head of his cock and he gasps above you, pressing his forehead into your breast.

"Ba-Baby, this is about you. Please," he begs, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You give a smirk, feeling high and mighty at how quickly you can break him down to a mere lustful animal.

Your free hand rubs circles to your stomach and he can just about cum at the sight of you.

His cock throbs wildly and he forces your hand off of him with narrowed eyes. "Behave, little dove. I won't say it again."

You hide your smirk, laying back down for him.

He eyes you wearily for a second before continuing his dissent on your body. His fingers caress over your sodden lower lips and his name tumbles from your mouth with a quickness.

"You're messy." he prods, spreading your lips with his fingers and tapping your throbbing bundle of nerves with the pads of his fingers.

Your body jolts, bottom lip tucking between your teeth.

God, you've missed this.

You've missed him doting on you so eagerly.

Yoongi continues to take his time, enjoying how your entrance clenches around nothing.

You're a needy little thing and you're all his. The way it should be.

"Daddy, please!" you beg, rubbing circles over your distended skin.

"What's wrong, beautiful? You're too much of a slut to enjoy this? You want gratification now?" he quips, lowering his head to your core.

You can't even see him over your belly and it drives you absolutely mad. You can feel the puffs of hot, needy breath that pass his lips but it does nothing but earn more dripping arousal from your center.

"Such a pretty pussy you have," he purrs, suckling your swollen lips.

You gasp loudly, screwing your eyes shut.

He plays with your entrance, swirling the tip of his index finger around it until your racking with sobs above him.

Yoongi presses the tip of his tongue to your throbbing clit and he groans gently at the feeling.

"Shhh, my dove. Daddy is going to take care of you, I promise." he avows, lapping at your nub with slow strokes.

It's so pleasurable, but it's not enough. You're on the precipice and he keeps you there for what feels like eternity.

"God! Daddy, please!" you beg, bunching your hands up in his hair and tugging.

He hums in fake confusion, adoring how your body shakes before him.

He's good at the long game.

He thrives in it.

When he slips two fingers inside of your slick cunt, you're about ready to burst but he pulls away from your core with a devilish smirk.

"My pregnant wife is so needy," he jeers, curling his fingers with ease to the soft patch of nerves within you.

Your chest constricts, heaving for breath. Your skin develops a thin sheen of sweat and you feel yourself possibly going insane within his grasp.

Picking his face up between the apex of your thighs, the sight of his soaked chin and cheeks hurdles you to the precipice.

"Wanna cum, need to cum!" you chant, cupping your belly while you grind yourself down onto his fingers.

"You hold it," he orders sweetly.

You can only scoff and the animalistic pride within you snaps.

You sit up, as quickly as you can, before pushing him down on the bed.

"Baby," he warns you, pulling his fingers from your heat and entering them into his mouth.

"I need it!" you whine, straddling him.

His hands immediately hold your hips to protect you from any imminent danger you might face. He goes to chide you but when your soaked cunt glides against his hard, thick length, he can only take a sharp breath between his teeth.

"I missed your cock Daddy, I missed it so much," you whine, rocking your hips.

"Oh Christ," he murmurs, gliding his hands from your hips to the globes of your ass.

With every rock of your hips, your clit thrums pleasantly at the feeling of the head of his cock prodding against the bundle of nerves.

Your shaky hands grip at your breasts, swiping your thumbs against your leaking nipples until your sobbing with pleasure.

"You're so gorgeous, fuck," Yoongi curses, enraptured with the sight above him.

Your eyebrows furrow and you're losing yourself in the pleasure as your mouth drops open.

His hands knead at the supple flesh of your backside before rearing back and spanking you with a fierceness that you adore.

"Yes, more!" you gasp, sitting up and positioning his cock at your entrance.

"You're a little cock slut, you know that?" he seethes, leaning up on his elbows to kiss at your belly.

"Your cock slut, Daddy. I'm yours," you whimper, slowly sitting down on his length.

His mouth opens at the euphoric feeling of your warm, wet cunt sliding down on him and he can only fall back to the bed with a heady thump.

"Shit," he breathes out, looking up at you like you give him the universe.

You do.

You give him everything and anything that exceeds his expectations.

You take a second to adjust to his length, preening as the head of his cock prods against your soft cervix.

"Good girl, little dove." he bleats, running his fingertips over your outer thighs.

Yoongi can see the way you swallow thickly and he can tell how fucked out you already are with your eyelids being as heavy as they are and pride blooms in his chest.

"Want you to suckle," you beg, palming your breasts.

He can only scoff at the arousing thought, he's up in a flash, minding your stomach. His lips pluck and suckle at your sensitive skin until you're shaking like a leaf under his ministrations.

"Your cock feels so big in my pussy, feels so good," you purr, rocking your hips.

He moans against your breast, gripping your hips with needy hands.

The rhythm you set as he suckles from you is slow but the impending orgasm you've been denied comes back in waves. The head of his cock taps against the sweet spot inside of you with each jolt of your hips and you're losing your grasp on reality.

"D-Daddy!" you gasp, letting your brain free of any thoughts besides just how pleasurable he feels inside of you.

"That's it, baby girl. Take it. Take what you need from me." he announces, laying back down.

Your hands push down on his chest as you begin to pick up speed and he can only cry out your name like a man possessed.

"Jesus, just like that, little dove. Fuck!" he curses, spanking the globes of your ass until your skin is smarting.

Then you feel the precipice again, you feel yourself teetering.

Your mouth opens to give a silent scream and your eyes well up with tears.

He coos softly, running his fingers through his hair as if the pleasure he's receiving is truly unbelievable.

You groan loudly, pressing your hands beneath your stomach. "I'm-I'm-"

"Cum for me, little dove. I can feel how badly your cunt wants to milk my cock. Cum." he orders and your gasp echoes throughout the room.

Your hands rub comforting circles to your stomach while your hips rock at an unfound speed.

"Yoongi!" you cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

Then -- euphoria.

Your orgasm explodes within you like a million shards of glass. With deafened ears and tear streaked cheeks, you don't even feel your husband lay you down on your back.

He fucks his cock so deeply inside of you that it brings you back to reality in waves.

"God, you look so beautiful taking what's yours, baby." he coos, sitting up.

You can only cry out gently when his strokes become erratic and deeper.

"You want me to cum inside you? You want to drip with me?" he inquires, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You nod incessantly, spreading your legs wider when you feel his cock throb within you.

"Yeah? You want to be my little cum slut? Get so full of my cum when you're already pregnant with my babies?" he seethes through his teeth.

"Y-Yes, want to feel your cum so badly," you hiccup, running your hands over his chest.

His eyes screw shut when your hips meet his every stroke.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming. God, your cunt is incredible!" he whines.

His hips give one last thrust, burying himself as deeply as possible before the warmth of his cum floods through your battered core.

You hum happily, rubbing your belly.

"I love you," he whispers, bending down and planting a passionate kiss to your lips.

"I love you, too." you reply, hooking your hand around the back of his neck.

After cleaning you up and situating yourselves back to normal, Yoongi pulls your body to cuddle against his. His fingers drift over your bare back and he sighs happily.

You're out like a light in mere seconds when you finally get comfy and he can only chuckle at your shallow breaths.

His hand comes to rest beneath his head and he can't begin to express how lucky he feels.

His attention falters to your stomach when he feels a gentle prodding against his hip. He smirks, kissing the top of your forehead and closing his eyes.

"Mama!" Honggi screams and you know better now than to rush to him whenever he shouts for you.

"Yes, baby?" you call to him, fixing your earrings.

"Want to play with Yumi!" he calls, peeking into your bedroom.

"We're going to see Yumi now." you reply, turning to him.

Your eyebrow raises as you look at your husband's spitting image. "Where are your shoes?" you ask your two year old.

"Dada said I don't have to wear them!" he beams, rolling on the floor with your corgi.

"Oh yes you do, you're not going over to Aunt Leena's house with no shoes on." you reply.

When your husband steps into the doorway, he knows he's made a mistake. Just the look you give him makes him want to run and hide.

"What?" he bleats.

Min Yoongi is obsessed with giving his son whatever he wants. He's obsessed with spoiling him and sometimes you have to look like the bad guy.

"He needs to put on shoes." you tell your husband.

Both of your boys frown at you and it's almost so ridiculous that you can barely contain the eye roll.

"Why?" Honggi chirps.

When you place your hand on your stomach, Yoongi nods. "Mommy's right, you need to wear shoes."

He's quick to avoid chastisement today.

"But why, dada?" your son inquires.

You love the 'why' phase… when it's directed at your husband.

"Because your little feet are gonna be cold and because mommy said so. And what did I tell you about when mommy says something?" your husband whispers conspiratorially to your son.

"That you do it! Mama has two babies a-and mad isn't good for babies!" Honggi says, sticking up two small fingers.

You can only snort, shutting the bathroom light off and leaning against the door frame.

"That's right, bud. So let's get you some shoes."

When your husband goes to leave the room, he widens his eyes apologetically at you and you can't help but giggle.

"Silly," you mumble, grabbing your purse.

Caleb's first birthday is a huge deal.

You know how much work his mother put into it and you know that it needs to be over the top and perfect for her to be thriving and happy with the day's events.

"Miss Thing!" Leena gasps, throwing herself out of the door to hug you.

"Hi Beena," you giggle, wrapping your arms around her.

Taehyung is right behind her with a smile plastered on his face.

"Happy birthday Caleb!" you gasp, taking him from Taehyung's arms.

Yoongi kisses your best friend on the cheek before looking over at her one year old son.

"Hey buddy! Happy birthday!" your husband cheers, watching as Caleb tucks his face into your neck.

It's always astounding to see how much of a one eighty Leena has done when it comes to Taehyung and her family.

You remember how adamant she was on not getting pregnant and not getting married but then when you gave birth to Honggi -- she wanted that.

And you completely understood it.

Now that your best friend is married and having a family, you can see how content and happy she is. It's something you're really proud of.

"Everyone is in the backyard." Leena announces, fixing Caleb's small suit.

"Yumi?!" Honggi screeches, looking past Taehyung.

"Yeah, Yumi too." Leena's husband quips with a laugh.

Yoongi snorts, following after his son.

"Miss Thing, I have to tell you, I would have never in a million years thought we'd see him today." your best friend blurts, guiding you into her mansion.

"Who?" you inquire, handing Caleb back to his father.

Leena's hands clamp down on your shoulders and her eyes widen. "Jin."

"Shut the fuck up," you gasp, pulling her towards the backyard.

There are a multitude of people in the backyard but your eyes find his tall, handsome stature easily.

He's standing by the fountain with his wife by his side and he looks in his element.

It's been months since you've seen your other best friend.

You aren't really sure why he dropped off the face of the Earth. You know he's probably been busy, you all have been.

But you know Leena has taken it the hardest. Jin has always meant something deeply to her so when he didn't return phone calls or texts… you know it burned her.

It's almost as if he feels your eyes on him the way he turns to look at you.

He gives you a warm smile, immediately leaving his wife to make his way across the large backyard.

Yoongi notices how your eyes get glassy when he looks away from Honggi and Jimin's daughter, Yumi. "Jimin, watch him." he orders, leaving to comfort you.

Now, Yoongi doesn't hate Jin, by any means. He respects him and in all honesty, appreciates him for helping him in his dire time of need.

But the CEO will be damned if he doesn't coddle you, his pregnant wife, to his side when you're emotionally distraught.

Seokjin is wary when he sees your husband loop his hand around your hip protectively.

"Shhh," Yoongi coos, hearing your gentle sniffles.

Leena on the other hand, just folds her arms, widening her eyes expectantly at your best friend.

"Hey guys," he bleats, running his hand over the back of his neck.

"That's it? All we get is a 'hey guys' from you?" Leena scoffs.

Jin blushes furiously, cupping his whisky tighter in his hand. "What do you want me to say, Beena?"

"How about a sorry, Kim Seokjin? That'll be the start. Then you can veer off into how apologetic you are for pushing us into the background for her." Leena sneers, nodding her head to Sera.

You take in how nervous Jin is and you absolutely hate it. You hate how small he's making himself look.

"I am sorry." he agrees, grabbing for your hands.

"Maybe you guys should take this inside," Taehyung whispers, looking over the party guests who have stopped their conversations to look over at all of you.

Leena doesn't even give an answer, only trudging back into her mansion with narrowed eyes.

Taehyung clears his throat awkwardly, walking with his son towards Jimin and Anna.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yoongi inquires, brushing some hair back behind your ear.

You nod immediately, wanting the comfort of your husband with you.

"Alright, my love." he promises, kissing your temple.

Seokjin chases after Leena and you can only sigh at the impending yelling you're about to hear.

"Miss Thing, please sit." Leena gushes, pointing to the couch inside the library.

You take a seat, watching Jin wade back in forth nervously like he's waiting for a scolding.

"Did you know that Y/N is pregnant again? That she's having twins?" Leena spits.

"Yes, I did. I'm very happy for her and her husband." Seokjin replies, helping you sit down.

Yoongi pours himself a small glass of scotch, draping his arm over your shoulders.

"Do you fucking understand how sorely you've been missed?" Leena inquires to the handsome man as she sits down across from you.

Seokjin clears his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I-I do."

"Then where have you been?" you prod, folding your arms.

Your best friend leans back against the large wooden desk. "Listen guys, I've missed you guys so deeply. I need you to know this, okay? I'm sorry that I've been absent from your kids and your lives. I've been dying to spend time with you all."

"Okay. Then where have you been?!" Leena yelps, repeating your question.

Jin takes a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut. "I've been trying to start my own family. It's not easy! I've been taking Sera all over the world to different doctors and hospitals to try and see why she can't get pregnant! I've been depressed and down on myself until recently. I'm fucking sorry I abandoned you guys but I needed time to heal my heart."

The news resounds in your ears and you cuddle closer to your husband who rubs your shoulder with his thumb soothingly.

The smugness is wiped off of Leena's face within a second.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she whispers softly.

Jin's fingers card through his hair and with a frustrated huff, he lolls his head back.

"Because it's…it's heartbreaking and not what I want to bring to the table when you guys have families and lives already. I don't want to burden you guys with my troubles." he mumbles, spinning his wedding band with his thumb.

You take a sharp breath between your teeth, standing with the help of your husband who urges you to be careful.

"Jin," you whisper, hugging him tightly.

He stiffens at your touch before wrapping his arms around you. He sobs gently, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I did miss you guys, so much. I'm sorry," he cries loudly.

"You don't have to hide your feelings from us. You should feel comfortable to tell us anything and everything. I'm sorry if you didn't trust us enough with your worries." you murmur into his ear.

"No! I just… I was scared, I didn't want to trouble you both." he breathes, pulling away and cupping your face.

"Jinnie," Leena pouts, standing up and hugging the both of you.

"You're never a bother to us, don't ever think that." you coo, fixing his hair.

He takes a deep, calming breath, running his hands over your belly. "One of your kids is kicking me in the ribs." he mumbles.

You can only giggle, patting your eyes with a tissue.

"That's the least you deserve for not trusting us with your fears," Leena scolds him gently.

He nods, exhaling sharply until his cheeks are puffing out.

"So is she?" your best friend asks him.

"What?" he mumbles.

"Is she pregnant?" Leena inquires.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, tilting his head. "Something like that."

Your eyes drift slowly over the perfectly manicured lawn watching Honggi offer to share a toy truck with Yumi. His smile is the spitting image of Yoongi’s and it makes you sigh happily. You lean against the arm of the lawn chair, resting your hand against your cheek.

You can barely believe how happy you’ve become over the past two years.

Everything just falls into the right place, everything just fits like a perfect complete puzzle.

Honggi turns to you, flailing his hand wildly and you can only giggle. Waving back, your heart expands to the size of the universe.

Yoongi laughs at something loudly, drawing your attention. You watch him sling his arm over Taehyung’s shoulder and you can only snort at the sight.

You can remember when you never heard his laugh, you didn’t know what it sounded like for quite a while and then… once he began to laugh, it never seemed to end.

That’s something you revel in, your husband’s happiness is yours well.

It gives you great pride to see him beaming from ear to ear. And you don’t think it often but -- you got him here. You got him to this state of happiness.

It’s your best artwork, yet.

“Hey Y/N.”

You look away from your husband to the one person you’d never thought you’d speak to.

“Sera… hey,” you breathe, looking up at her flawless form.

“H-How are you?” she inquires, sipping her water nervously.

You haven’t seen here in two years. She looks good, that isn’t hard for her. Something about her seems calmer and more poised then when you knew her.

“Can I sit?” she asks gently, running her hand over the back of her neck.

“Please,” you insist, sitting up straighter.

You can feel eyes on you and you can only imagine who it is but you don’t dare look away from the actress before you.

While you weren’t her biggest fan, she’s made Jin happy over the past two years and you can’t fault her for that. He hasn’t loved anyone since Leena and you can see that his heart has bloomed since being with this woman.

“No drink?” you quip, pointing at her water.

“I thought, y’know, since my surrogate can’t drink then I shouldn’t either.” she shrugs.

You don’t know what to say if you’re being honest. It must be a sore subject…

“Yeah-” you breathe awkwardly.

“I’m not upset about it, we can talk about it.” she announces, putting her hand to your shoulder.

Sera in all the time you’ve known her has never touched you and you’re surprised at how normal it is, honestly.

“I’m sorry that you… y’know… you’ve had a difficult time.” you say honestly.

You can’t imagine how hard Sera and Jin have been trying, how many hospitals and specialists they’ve gone to, how much heartbreak they’ve gone through.

“At least I’m getting a baby at all, right? I always used to be so angry about the whole situation… Maybe that’s why I was so mean to you.” she admits, carding her fingers through her long, now blonde hair.

You hum thoughtfully, looking up at the dusky sky. “I mean it mustn't have been easy for you either. I came into Yoongi’s life and flipped it upside down. You were comfortable with the situation and I just spun things around like a top.”

“Well… yeah, true. But if you didn’t come into Yoongi’s life then I wouldn’t have been able to become a better person and find the person that’s right for me.” she avows, looking over at you.

Her words resound through you and your eyes widen just the slightest bit. She’s really different these days, huh?

“Well, I came over to say I’m sorry for treating you terribly the whole first time you were pregnant, it was in bad taste and I was so selfish back then that I couldn’t begin to understand how horrible that could be for you.”

“I accept your apology.” you reply, giving her a small smile.

She breathes a sigh of relief, letting her body go lax in the chair beside you. “Oh good, I was so nervous to talk to you. I thought I was gonna have a heart attack or something.” she gasps.

You find yourself giggling and she snorts softly.

“You’re kid is cute,” she comments, watching him run over to you.

“Thanks,” you whisper, widening your eyes at Honggi curiously as he stops in front of you.

“Mama!” he cheers, holding up his paint covered fingers.

“Yes, baby?” you murmur, pushing his hair back.

“I’m painter like you! Look!” he squeals, tugging your hand.

You look over at Sera apologetically, standing up to follow your son.

“It was nice to see you Sera, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” you call back to her.

She smiles warmly, giving you a gentle wave goodbye.

Jin could have done worse.

Lowering your head, you look at the picture that your son has painted. The fingerpaint is thick and blobbish but you can see a few distinct shapes that stick out to you.

You don’t say anything at first, letting him finish a few small details that he thinks are important. He gives you his gummy smile, seemingly proud of himself and it makes you smile too.

“It’s very nice, baby. I can see how much work you put into it.” you coo.

“It’s mama and dad, Honggi and baby!” he beams, picking up the picture which is almost too heavy for him with all the paint on it.

Your husband sweeps in beside you, planting a wet kiss to your cheek and taking the painting out of your hands.

“Mommy is having two babies, not just one.” Yoongi reminds him, pointing at your stomach.

Honggi nods fervently, opening and closing his small hands demanding the picture back from his father.

Your husband snorts gently, lowering the picture for his son. You can barely contain the ridiculous giggle that tries to escape you as he draws a black circle next the one already painted.

"Two!” he cheers, sticking up two of his paint covered fingers.

“Good job, bud.” Yoongi chuckles, kissing the top of his head.

“I saw that interaction. You okay?” your husband inquires softly into your ear.

You hum in agreement, wrapping your arm around his waist and laying your head down on his shoulder. “Better than okay,” you murmur, feeling his lips caress over the top of your head.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Yoongi inquires, pulling over the car.

You can’t help but laugh at his worried expression. “He’s fine,” you promise, putting your hand on his knee, “we can go out on a date without him around us all the time. Maya’s got it. Honggi loves her.”

He shuts off the engine, turning to you with a pout spread over his face. “I just miss him, I didn’t get to read him a bedtime story.”

Your heart is warm and you can’t help the giggle you give. “It’s our anniversary, besides it’s just for a few hours.”

He picks up your hand, placing a soft kiss to the back of it. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Happy anniversary, little dove.”

“Happy anniversary, babe.” you reply, with a smile.

The inside of Magic Shop is pristine like always, you’re so surprised that Jin has kept it exactly the same as two years ago. He always loved to change things up but you realize that he probably got so busy since you’ve last been here, he probably hasn’t had time for anything.

The music is quieter than normal and there isn’t a soul in the club. Which makes you understand immediately that Yoongi rented the whole place out.

“You shouldn’t have,” you hiss, giving Hyun a small wave.

“Of course I should have, you deserve the world, baby. Plus, loud music isn’t good for the babies,” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

Your eyes immediately land on the black velvet curtain and the memories of first meeting Yoongi flood through you like water.

“Thanks,” your husband murmurs, grabbing a whisky from Hyun.

When you pull back the curtain, you can only smile at the same leather booth from that fated day.

“Jesus, it even smells the same in here.” Yoongi breathes, running his fingers over the top of the couch.

This room holds so many memories for you but nothing beats the one with your husband.

“God, it’s like it was yesterday. I can still remember that black dress you were wearing,” your husband chirps, sitting down in the same spot he did two years ago.

He pats his lap, setting down his whisky onto the floor and you’re absolutely gobsmacked by how much this feels like dejavu.

“I’m a little big,” you murmur, sitting down slowly.

“Never, you’re gorgeous, little dove.” Yoongi coos, wrapping his arms around you.

His warm hands caress your practically bare thighs and when he looks at you, you can see the sheer love and devotion in his eyes.

“My little dove,” he breathes, drifting his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

You can remember just how smoking hot you thought this man was, how intrigued you were by him in an instant. You remember every single second of your time in this back room. You remember every minute of your days when you found out you were pregnant and how absolutely scared you were.

You can remember his good times and his bad when he was working out his feelings about you.

Nothing has left your mind and you treasure each and every memory -- because they make up who you are. They make up your life.

And it’s perfect. Because you have him.

“You were a good girl that I wanted to break so badly,” your husband announces, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Well… you did that,” you quip, humming when he presses his face to the crook of your neck.

“Thank you, little dove, really. Thank you so much for loving me and giving me such a wonderful family,” Yoongi gasps.

“Thank you for opening up to me and showing me that our love could blossom into something as perfect as this.” you reply, running your fingertips over his arms.

When he lifts his head, you can see how glassy his eyes are with tears.

“God, I love you, little dove.” he whimpers.

“I love you too.” you reply, kissing him softly.

His lips are plush and soft against yours and you can feel the tears that careen down his cheeks until they’re soaking into your skin. He’s so gentle with you, drifting his hands from your back to your distended stomach.

“My wife,” he chuckles, capturing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “my beautiful, gorgeous, powerful wife who has given me enough love to last eons. I love you so much, little dove, it hurts me.”

There are one hundred and fifty eight ways to say ‘I love you.’ And, they all pertain to Min Yoongi.

He’s a gentle soul and a loving husband that holds high standing with billions of people worldwide. He is sweet, wonderful and a perfect man at the end of the day. And now, everyone sees this side to him.

In the media he is praised and renowned for being a fantastic father and an equally fantastic husband. And to you, nothing could ever be more true,

It was March 23rd, when you saw him and met him. You tasted the finest of liquors and smelt the smoke of the richest Cuban cigars.

It was March 23rd when your life had truly begun.

Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykrueger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

#third wheeling #final chapter #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #ceo!yoongi #ceo!au #ceo!bts #min yoongi #yoongi smut #pregnant smut #bts fic

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

Text

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

#kassandra of sparta #kassandra x reader #sapphic september #assassin's creed odyssey #modern au

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: X

I will not ask you where you came from,

I will not ask and neither should you.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,

We should just kiss like real people do.

Like Real People Do, Hozier

A/N: okay i know i say this every time but genuinely THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART SO FAR!!!!! and my lil section of this story has come to an end!!! act one is done!!! and the beginning of act two aka part 11 will be coming on andrea’s blog!!!!! thank u guys so so much for all the love and support you’ve given us!!!! we truly cannot believe you guys have been so receptive and we love you all so so much 🦋 as always any and all feedback is deeply appreciated not just by andrea and I but by all content creators!!! seriously we do all of this for free while going to school and working full time and those little messages make our days so much better!!! so do reblogs!!! you should reblog the content you like!!!! leave a lil message in the tags!!! shoot us a message!! anything is truly madly deeply™️ appreciated 💌 thank you all once again for your support!!!! pls enjoy 🦋

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

word count: 37.9k

content/warnings: harry ignoring “bros before hoes” part 45684957, “FUCK FLORIDA!!! ALL MY HOMIES HATE FLORIDA!!!” - xander, fight scene (rap), jefferson x hamilton (friends to lovers), road head ahead?? uhhh yeah, i sure hope so!!!, MUSI 1113: history of classical music, prof. harry styles, sherlock and watson solve the biggest mystery yet, *edward cullen voice* and so the mosquito fell in love with the butterfly

“Are you going to stare at your phone all day, like a bloody tool, or are you actually going to join the conversation?”

Despite the baited question, Harry keeps his gaze on his device as he flicks through his notifications, opening one app after the other in quick repetition before closing the screen. “That depends. Are you actually going to say something interesting?”

From the other side of his couch, Niall flicks up his middle finger with ease, his expression sour and unimpressed. “We are saying something interesting, you prick. I want to get out of town next weekend, but no one—” The Irishman shoots a pointed look to Xander, who’s leaning across the kitchen island with an unbothered expression. “—can agree on where to go.”

“It’s not that I can’t agree, Niall. It’s that your ideas are stupid.” Xander shoots back in an exasperated tone, raising his Bloody Mary (with extra blood, hardly any Mary) to his scowling lips. “No one wants to go to fucking Florida. It’s Florida. Why the fuck would we go to Florida?”

“Because I’ve been alive for two hundred years—”

Adam clicks his tongue from the lounge seat by the window. “I’m not sure if ‘alive’ is the best description.”

“—and I’ve never been to Disney World! I died from a fucking famine. Am I not entitled— nay, am I not owed—” Niall straightens his posture on the couch as he addresses the whole of the room, a determined look set in his icy blue eyes that contrasts the dulled gaze of those watching him. “A warm churro, cold Dole Whip, and a set of over-priced Mickey ears? Huh?”

“That still doesn’t answer the question of why we’d have to go to Florida to get that!” Xander exclaims, rounding the corner of the kitchen counter with his drink in hand. He raises the glass to his lips, pausing halfway to point towards the wall of windows that’s currently letting in the midday Sunday sun. “We could drive a half hour to Disneyland, and get you the exact same thing!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Niall sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, as if he needs to calm himself down before doing something he regrets. “Xander,” He begins in a controlled voice, tight and tense and on the verge of snapping. “I suffered through starvation, fought in a world war, went through the Great Depression, and then fought in another fucking world war! After all that, why would I settle for Disneyland, when we could easily make it to Disney World and back in three days?”

“You know…” Mitch says slowly, flopping down on the sofa between Niall and Harry, who’s already turned his attention back to his obsessive ritual of checking his notifications. “You can’t keep playing the ‘fought in a war’ card. Harry fought in World War One, too, and I fought in the Revolutionary War. And died in the Revolutionary War. You do realize the majority of our group are veterans, right?”

Niall sighs in exasperation, clutching his beer in his fist to keep it from spilling as the older vampire beside him shifts on the couch. “I don’t play the ‘fought in a war’ card, Mitchell, I play the ‘fought in two wars’ card. And I think that card earns me the right to choose what we do next weekend.”

“And I think you folded those cards the moment you suggested Florida.” Wrinkling his nose, Xander finally enters the living room, and Harry risks a glance up from his phone to eye the dark-tinted liquid that laps at the edge of Xander’s glass with every step. “Why don’t we just go to Disneyland? Or, better yet, why don’t we take a few extra days and go somewhere exciting? I hear Greece is lovely this time of year; I wouldn’t mind trying some Mediterrean food for a week.”

“Florida is just as lovely—”

“That’s a lie, Florida is never lovely.”

“And Adam wants to go to Disney World, too!” Niall finishes triumphantly, taking a large swig of his half-empty beer before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “So it’s two-to-one!”

“Two-to-two, actually.” Mitch interjects, pursing his lips at the childish grimace that overtakes Niall’s previously cheery expression. “I’m not too fond of alligators, and last time I heard from Sarah, she was in Italy. It’d be nice to have a week with her in Greece.”

Niall rolls his eyes at the sudden tie, turning his gaze past his disappointing friend to his other almost-as-disappointing friend, tone growing firmer. “Alright, then, Harry, it’s up to you. You’re our tie-breaking vote.”

Harry, however, had spent the better part of the last two minutes scrolling through the photos he and Y/N had taken on their date the day before, and doesn’t even glance up from his screen upon registering the utterance of his name. “Hm? The vote on what?”

The frustrated Irishman lobs his bottle of beer at Harry’s head, his pitch powerful enough that it nearly collides with its target a millisecond later. And would have collided, if Harry’s hand hadn’t shot up on a supernatural reflex to capture it perfectly within his grasp.

Keeping his eyes locked on his phone, Harry sighs at his friend’s antics. “Watch it, Ni, I don’t want to scrub beer stains out of my couch—”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to throwing bottles at your thick head if you could get it out of your girlfriend’s arse long enough to participate in our discussion!” The blue-eyed vampire shoots daggers at him, and the lightness of his irises shifts to a dark crimson as Harry’s gaze barely flickers to him. “Oh for fuck’s sake—” Bracing himself against Mitch’s lap, Niall launches over the couch and snatches Harry’s phone from his hands, scrambling back to his seat and stuffing it down his jeans pocket before Harry can react. “You’ll get this back after we finish talking, alright? Now, where do you want to go next weekend? Disney World or Greece?”

Although the urge to tackle Niall and fight for his phone twinges in Harry’s mind, he forces himself to stay seated, settling for just shooting a glare across the couch. He’s certain that Mitch wouldn’t be appreciative of him and Niall biting at each other on top of him, just as certain he is of the fact that attacking Niall won’t exactly make him look mentally stable.

Instead, Harry merely sucks in a deep breath, setting the beer bottle on the coffee table and dragging his jeweled hand through his hair before answering evenly. “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend. And second of all… neither. Y/N and I have plans next weekend.”

A collective groan runs through the room the moment the phrase falls from his lips, and Harry swallows down a smirk at the reaction he receives from his friends. Only Mitch’s face remains free of irritation, and instead sits in a neutral expression that, from his years of friendship, Harry can tell is tinged with concern.

“You have plans with her every weekend.” Xander complains, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary as he sits down next to Adam on the lounge seat, pulling Harry’s attention from the eldest immortal. “How can you sit there and say she’s not your girlfriend when you’ve been ditching us for the last, like, three and a half months to spend time with her?”

That, in all honesty, is a fair question. Harry knows that he’s been spending more and more time with Y/N in the last few weeks at the expense of his friends, and on some level, he does feel bad about it. Except that when he actually thinks about it, he doesn’t feel that bad in the slightest. He has no reason to, given that he spends almost every weekday with his friends, so what’s the harm in saving his weekends for someone else?

In fact, he rather enjoys bracketing off those days just to spend them with her, alone with no one else to bother them, where they can just bask in each other’s company. So no, he really doesn’t feel bad at all.

He has the sudden realization that, on top of having the sweetest, most addicting blood he’s ever had the good fortune of tasting in the last two hundred years, Y/N is just generally fun to be around. Due to this, Harry has unintentionally continued to grow closer and closer to the human girl with every second they spend together. She’s witty, adventurous, and always down to try something new— both in public and in the bedroom. And in the bedroom— a smile unknowingly creeps onto Harry’s face as he recalls the dinner he’d taken her to last month, and what they’d done after.

He also recalls the morning that had followed, in which they had eaten breakfast on his couch together in nothing but their underwear, their bodies tangled against the sofa cushions as Y/N had fed him bites of French toast while he showed her the extensive collection of Polaroid pictures he’d taken the previous night before. He vividly remembers the way she had squirmed at the images of her with her legs spread open for him, of her bare chest heaving and her back arching, and of the wetness dripping down her thighs and staining the sheets. And he especially remembers the way she’d hid her face away in his neck at the snapshot of his hand wrapped around her throat, as well as the picture of her suckling eagerly at his thumb while his array of rings had glinted under the flash of the camera.

It had been so cute watching her eyes brim over with shyness, especially because she had been more than happy to shed her inherent timidness the night prior. He’d teased her about it, of course. How could he not? He’d laid there as she rested between his legs, pointing out every welt and bruise prominent on the photos, and then skimming his icy fingers over her actual body to find them. It had been a very intimate moment, given that they were reflecting on more than just the physical aspects of what they’d shared. It feels like their entire dynamic had shifted slightly, all due to the fact that the roughness and aftercare that had occurred between them were actions that required immense amounts of trust and communication. Harry felt closer to her in a way he hadn’t before, and if the softness behind Y/N’s eyes was any indication, she felt the exact same way.

Their connection felt different now— purer, in a way, now that they’d seen one another in such an exposed fashion, but it still managed to stay within the boundaries Harry was intent on upholding. She’d given him a type of relief he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much, considering he hadn’t indulged in anything of that caliber in years due to certain doubts about his self-control. But somehow, he had managed to keep his supernatural strength and impulses at bay the whole way through, and he’d kept her safe and satisfied, as he promised he would. In return, she’d made him feel more in tune with himself than he had in a while.

With all of those thoughts filtering through the vampire’s mind during their morning cuddle session, he had ducked down and kissed at the tip of her warm nose, sighing blissfully when she had returned the gesture onto the curve of his chin. Then, he’d begun pinching playfully at her sides, not being able to resist the urge to make her smile. He had burst into laughter when she herself had erupted into spontaneous giggles, thrashing against him while squeaking curses between gasps of his name, pleading with him to cut it out or she’d wind up falling off the sofa. It had been a wholesome pastime, up until he’d ended up sucking maple syrup off her fingers with that signature devious twinkle in his half-lidded eyes, and then she herself had ended up licking that same syrup off his abdomen. That had led to him tonguing it off the swell of her breasts, and then she had wound up lapping at something much more interesting than his stomach.

It’s only natural, though, considering that in the bedroom, Y/N is a refreshingly unstoppable force. She matches his every push, pull, and thrust with ease, as if she knows his body by heart. Maybe she does, Harry muses, considering that he undisputedly knows hers from every angle, like the stanzas of his favorite poem. And between all those things, is it really his fault he wants to spend as much time with her as he can? Keeping her happy and content had worked well to sweeten her blood for him thus far, so why should he change his game plan now, when he’s so clearly in the lead?

Last weekend, for example, he and Y/N had driven the scenic route out to Malibu, where they spent the entire day lounging on beach towels and frolicking in the waves. He’d enjoyed seeing her with saltwater hair, her soft skin encrusted with sand and warmed by the sun, almost as much as he’d enjoyed fiddling with the strings of her bikini and coating her body in sunscreen, because “protection from UV rays is a top priority, love. Trust me.” They’d packed a picnic lunch for themselves that consisted of homemade sandwiches, chips and salsa, and fruit skewers, which Y/N had hand-fed to Harry after she’d convinced him to let her bury him in the sand. It had been irritating to shower the grit out from some unsavoury places, but worth it to see the smile on her face and hear her infectious giggles as she molded a sizable pair of sandcastle breasts onto his chest. And doubly worth it after he took her home and fed on her sea-tinged blood.

Yesterday, as well, had been an example of how well Harry is doing with this arrangement the two of them have. He’d picked her up in the early afternoon and taken her to the Museum of Contemporary Art, where they’d spent the rest of the day wandering the exhibits and debating the artistic merits of each piece. Of course, their discussions were less educated and more humour based, as Harry tended to list every painting as reminding him of sex, while Y/N said that every sculpture she saw was a comment on capitalism, but it had made them laugh nonetheless. And while the security guards standing by didn’t seem to think their overheard conversations were amusing— nor how they posed with the paintings, trying to mimic the various expressions depicted in the artwork— Harry could tell that Y/N was entertained. It was obvious in how sugary her blood had been after she’d fallen asleep hours later. And if Harry were a better artist, he would’ve created his own sculpture dedicated to the honey and lavender liquid that he’d become so tied to over these last few months, but it appears his position as a collector is what he was suited for— both for literal artwork and the metaphorical pieces he’d paint on Y/N’s body with his lips.

It’s with all these events in mind that he turns to Xander casually as the man’s question echoes in his head once more. “How can you say she’s not your girlfriend?”

A clear and concise explanation slips from Harry’s tongue without a second thought. “I can say she’s not my girlfriend because it’s true.” Harry slicks a hand through his tousled curls again out of habit, so used to busying his fingers with fiddling on his phone that he has to find some sort of substitute. “Keeping her satisfied keeps her— and her blood— around. And, yes, she’s a sweet girl, and a nice break from you lot—” He nods towards Niall specifically with a jerking motion and a raised brow. “But there…” He just barely hesitates before spitting the words out. “There aren’t any actual feelings there.”

“Oh really?” Niall challenges, his own brow kinking as he shifts on the couch, turning his body completely to face Harry at the expense of Mitch’s personal space. “So all those times I’ve heard the two of you shagging— all those times you’ve called her ‘a dream’ or ‘perfect’— there were no feelings in that?”

Xander wolf whistles at the comment as Adam barks out a laugh, and even Mitch allows himself a reserved smirk at the mention of Harry’s bedroom talk. Harry, on the other hand, straightens his shoulders as a flush works up his spine and onto his cheeks, and instead commands his tone to be as cutting as possible when he forms his reply.

“I don’t think Y/N would be very appreciative to know you’re eavesdropping on us fucking like some type of perverted creep, so you might want to invest in a better pair of plugs before I rip your ears off and solve the problem myself.” Harry threatens lowly, eyes flashing bright red for just a moment before reverting back to their natural emerald hue. “And you can take what I say mid-fuck as a ready-made script, mate, since you have no clue how to sweet-talk a bird into making her cum.”

Niall’s hands reach up to cup his ears protectively due to the other monster’s violent warning, his brows furrowing into a pointed scowl. “Eat shit. It’s not like I have a choice but to listen, given that you two nearly bring the building down while—”

“You know,” Xander chimes in from the lounge seat, his voice taking on an accusatory tone as his eyes narrow at Harry. “I thought a constant supply of blood would mellow you out, but if anything, you’ve grown a bit more irritable. Does this arrangement have an expiration date?”

“Xander…” Mitch begins, caution written into his quiet voice as his eyes flit from Harry to Xander and back again. “That’s not—”

Harry sharpens his voice into a blade as he slashes over Mitch, jaw growing taut as he spits out his retort. “I know a relationship lasting more than one night is a bit of a foreign concept to you, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but I really don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.”

“So you fuck the same person for a couple of months, and suddenly you’re a relationship expert?” Xander inquires with a humorless huff, his tone just as bitter as his eyes as he glares at Harry from across the room. “As if you haven’t had commitment issues since the nineteenth century?” Raising his drink to his lips, Xander takes a slow and calculated swig as Adam shifts in discomfort next to him, his eyes meeting Mitch’s with a nervous glance. “At least I can call shit what it is, while you just delude yourself for weeks on end, pretending that anything good can come out of your attachment to an insignificant human—”

“If I were you,” Harry says through gritted teeth, his fingers curling over the edge of his couch to hold himself in place. “I’d choose your next words very carefully, Xanny.”

“Or what? Are you gonna dig into your Fifty Shades chest and spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? What, are you just upset you never got the full treatment?”

A hot flush crawls up Xander’s neck as his jaw clenches. “I never said I wanted it.”

“The jealousy written all over your face suggests otherwise.”

“Alright!” Adam’s voice barks, swiftly slicing through the tension in the air, his eyes glowing crimson as he commands everyone’s attention from the two quarrelling vampires back onto himself. “That’s enough. You’re both being ridiculous. Harry, you can’t be upset with us for trying to understand what you’re doing, mate. We’re just curious, that’s all. But Xander—” The youngest vampire’s snickering is cut off when his name is called sternly. “That doesn’t give you the right to ridicule him for it. Harry knows what he’s doing— he’s a full-grown adult— and he wouldn’t do anything that would put himself, or any of us, into any sort of jeopardy.” With a long sigh, Adam’s gaze slides over the two creatures with a look of parental finality. “Are we good?”

Despite the annoyance still woven around each of Harry’s limbs, he forces himself to nod as he settles back into his couch, inhaling a deep breath through his nose. Beside him, Mitch nudges the back of his hand against Harry’s arm, as if in encouragement, and the motion reminds him just exactly who it is that he’s talking to. These are his friends— of course they have concerns about him. Although they might voice those concerns in unusual ways (like sticking their noses into his intimate life), the meaning behind their words comes from a place of affection.

“Alright.” Adam says again, relief flooding across his face as he turns his attention to the rest of the room. “Now, we still need to decide what we’re doing next weekend. Personally, I think a three day trip to Disney World would be a lot easier than Greece; I say we save that for next month, so we have more time to plan it and actually make the trip worthwhile.”

Xander, still a little irritated from his confrontation with Harry, huffs in response. “That’s all well and good, Adam, except you forgot that I refuse to step foot in that humid swamp-fest. Makes my face break out and my curls frizz up.”

“Jesus Christ, Xander.” Niall groans from the opposite end of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose like before, nudging his large squared glasses up as he does so. “Can you just get that stick out of your arse long enough to—”

Whatever Niall is about to suggest Xander do seems to disappear from his mind as the Irishman suddenly cuts off his speech, his ears perking up as Harry’s phone begins to chime from his back pocket. Although the sound is muffled from both the cushion and Niall’s trousers, the distinguishable opening motive of “Alexander Hamilton” playing can be heard by everyone, and it only takes one loop of Y/N’s signature ringtone for Harry to launch himself over the couch with his arms outstretched.

“Hey!” Mitch exclaims loudly, pressing himself into the cushions as Harry’s body writhes against his lap in his effort to extract the phone from Niall’s pants. “Jesus, watch your fucking feet! You’re like Gumby!”

Harry, however, is only paying attention to Niall, who is fending off his attempts at snatching the device with one hand while holding the phone over the edge of the couch with the other. “Give it!” He snarls, eyes shading red as he watches an immature simper grow onto Niall’s face, his thumb poising over the answer button. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Shh!” Niall hisses at him, but his voice is lit with delight as he clicks on the green phone icon and raises the device to his ear, lowering his voice into a relaxed drawl. “Hi there, you’ve reached the Styles residence! Para español, por favor oprima el número uno. This is Niall speaking, what can I help you with today?”

“Oh—” Even through the tiny speaker, Harry’s highly tuned ears have no trouble picking out the gentle cadence of Y/N’s voice. “Hi, Niall! It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N!” The younger immortal grins at Harry as he dodges his attempt at swiping for the device, setting his palm between Harry’s eyes and shoving him back roughly as he clambers up off the couch. He dashes across the living room to hide behind the lounge seat, sticking out his tongue and wagging it at his very peeved friend. “Lovely to hear your voice, darlin’! How are you doing on this lovely Sunday afternoon?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Harry hears her response as he pounces off the sofa, barreling across the room to chase after Niall. The shorter man is stealthy, and manages to duck and weave past Harry without a single issue, escaping under his left arm. He scrambles towards the glass stairs, holding back giggles as his opponent circles around the furniture to go after him, unhinged aggravation written all over his handsome features. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just delightful.” Niall laughs airily, taking a sharp turn away from the staircase to confuse Harry’s impulses, snatching a throw pillow off the nearest couch and aiming it at the brunette’s head. Like the beer bottle, Harry catches it easily, throwing it back at Niall’s stomach with a harder hand. Niall avoids it by a hair. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh, I just wanted to talk to Harry— I had a question for him. But if he’s busy…”

“Yeah, he’s a little indisposed at the moment, I’m afraid.” Niall races into the kitchen, bracing himself against the marble island with that shit-eating grin still on his face, shuffling erratically from side to side to sike out the other creature across from him. “But I’d be happy to take a message from such a gorgeous girl as yourself.”

“Oh, um, that’s very kind of you—”

Harry rounds the corner of the marble island with a growl, snatching his phone from one hand and smacking Niall upside the head with the other. “Bloody prick.” He hisses over the other vampire’s snickers, eyes colder than his touch as he delivers another blow to Niall’s shoulder. “Fucking annoying, is what you are—”

“Niall? Are you there?”

After heaving an exasperated sigh and sending one more glare to his friend, Harry raises his phone to his ear, doing his best to lighten the irritation in his voice. “Sorry, love. Niall just wants to be a bit of a bother today, it seems.” He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth as he turns away from the Irishman, wrapping his free arm around his middle as he leans his lower back against the island, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. He picks at a loose thread on his copper tartan trousers, voice coming out honeyed and delicate, as it always tends to get when he regards her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He can hear the smile that spreads across Y/N’s face upon hearing from him, and the tone sends a flood of warmth through Harry’s chest. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, sweetheart, never. I’m always free to talk to you.” Harry sends a cautious glimpse towards the living room, knowing that the four vampires sitting in his living room (Niall had slinked his way back to the couch now that his ridiculous charade had come to a close) are hanging onto his every word. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good, just… I had a question, but if you’re busy—”

“No, not busy at all! I’ve just been lounging around with the boys all morning. S’nothing serious.” Harry replies a bit too excitedly, straightening the hem of his fitted red and black striped t-shirt, which had gotten mussed during his tussle with Niall. “What d’you need?

Over the phone, he can hear Y/N clear her throat delicately, and a picture of her sitting on her couch in her living room plays across the front of his eyes, her thumb wedged between her lips as she chews on her nail, as she always does when she gets nervous. “Uh, well, I was also just relaxing this morning, and I was playing on my phone, and I kinda came upon this cute little bookstore called Verbatim Books. They have a bunch of really cool used books— and records, too, which I think you’d like— and they have this really neat, like, labyrinth layout—” Harry’s lips twitch as Y/N continues to ramble, “—and I’ve been looking for a replacement copy of Wuthering Heights because I dropped mine in the bathtub, remember? And I wanted to get a new copy of Romeo and Juliet, as well—”

“Alright, slow down, pet. Can barely understand you when you’re going a mile a minute.” Harry chuckles boyishly, absentmindedly carding a jeweled hand through the soft curls along the nape of his neck. Just the sound of Y/N’s innocent dialect ringing in his ear manages to somehow soothe his entire body. “You want to go to this bookstore, is that it? Because we can.” He flicks his eyes back over to his friends, who are already rolling their own in response. “Just give me an hour or two to finish up with the guys, and I’ll come pick you up—”

“Well, the thing is…” He pictures Y/N chewing on her thumb some more, timid uncertainty pouring into her usually clear irises. “Verbatim Books is in San Diego.”

“San Diego.” Harry repeats back to her, his free hand settling against the cold marble of the island behind him as he quirks an eyebrow in mild shock. “As in the San Diego that’s a two hour drive away? That San Diego?”

Y/N’s anxious laugh tinkles through the receiver. “Yeah, that San Diego. But if you have plans with your friends, I completely understand. We can go a different day.”

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth wearingly, Harry glances at the digital clock blinking above his stovetop, reflecting back the time 12:53 P.M. “When do they close?”

“Five, I think?”

The vampire calculates the route to San Diego in his head, his sculpted brows creasing as the time frame appears in his mind. “If we left now, we’d probably get there between three and three-thirty. Would an hour and a half be enough time for you to explore and find what you need?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are unbelievable,” Xander mutters from across the condo, but Harry pays him no attention other than raising a blue-lacquered middle finger to flip him off.

“I mean, yeah, I think so, but—”

“Alright, darling, then just give me a few minutes to grab my things and kick everyone out.” Harry says firmly, pushing himself away from the counter to begin searching for his car keys.

“No, Harry, it’s not so important that we have to go today, and I don’t want you to kick your friends out. In fact…” Y/N’s voice becomes thoughtful as a new idea pops into her head, and she hesitates for a moment before suggesting it on the grounds of not wanting to come off as pushy. But in the end, her curiosity bests her. “Why don’t we save Verbatim for another day, and I could just come over and hang out with you and your friends? I bought all the ingredients for this really yummy guacamole recipe I saw on Tasty the other day— we could do, like, an impromptu movie night or something. I’ve been craving one of your margaritas all week.”

“Yeah, Harry!” Niall chimes in as Harry re-enters the living room, obviously ignoring his friend’s earlier threat against eavesdropping. “I could go for some guac and a marg— not blended, though. Tastes like shit that way.”

Harry stares at him in disgust as he snatches his keys from the coffee table. “You’re a fucking twat.”

“What?”

“Oh— not you, babe!” Harry hurries to reassure her as Niall cackles in taunting satisfaction. “Sorry, I was talking to Niall. No, it’s… it’s alright. You want to go to this bookstore, and the boys were on their way out anyways—”

“Were you on your way out?” Adam asks Xander sarcastically, and Xander raises his half-full Bloody Mary as a negative response, making a mockingly sour face in return. “Okay, I thought so. Neither was I.”

“—so it’s all fine. I’ll leave in a few minutes, yeah? Probably be at your place within fifteen?” Harry checks the time on his Rolex as he estimates his arrival. “Does that sound good?”

“I— sure. Yeah, that works.” Y/N says slowly, her voice a little softer than it was a moment before. “I’ll see you when you get here, then.”

“Alright, doll. See you soon.” Harry hangs up his phone with a tap of his finger, sliding the device into his back pocket as he turns to face his friends. “So that was Y/N—”

“Oh, really? I had no clue!” Xander deadpans, rising from the lounge seat and setting his condensation-covered glass on the coffee table, deliberately avoiding the coaster Harry always insists should be used. “See you later, Harry.”

Adam matches the motion, a smirk jolting across his scruffy cheeks as he stands from his seat and claps Harry over the shoulder as he passes by. “Have a nice drive, man. We’ll do a movie night with Y/N another time.”

The promise plants a seed of unease inside Harry’s stomach, but he doesn’t allow it to show on his face, choosing to smile easily at Adam’s innocent comment instead. “Yeah. Another time.”

“Yeah, have a nice drive, H.” Niall mutters as he passes him, his face set in a petty surrendered frown. “A nice, long drive. Preferably off a very short cliff.”

“I would, Ni, but you’d miss me too much.” Harry grins at him jokingly, bumping the vampire’s shoulder with his own until his irritated expression softens into a slightly less irritated smile.

It’s Mitch, however, who makes Harry pause the most as he goes to leave. He halts in the doorway of Harry’s flat with a somber look in his eyes, appraising his younger friend with a curious gaze, which settles into trepidation as he sighs reluctantly. “You okay, H?” He prods gently, the question heavy as it falls from his mouth.

While Adam’s words were lighthearted and Mitch’s are anything but, they still leave the same feeling of uncertainty curling through Harry’s belly. And, like Adam’s words, Harry plasters the same reassuring smile across his features, doing his best to dampen his best friend’s concern. “‘M peachy keen, Mitchell. Don’t need to worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry only hesitates for a split second before urging himself to respond. “AB positive.”

///

If Y/N doesn’t say something to him, Harry is going to go absolutely insane.

It’s not that they haven’t had silence fall between them before, because they have. They’ve had comfortable silences as they lay in bed at night, Y/N wrapped within Harry’s inked arms as her breaths align with his. They’ve had quiet lapses in conversation during their usual breakfasts as they watch reruns of Y/N’s favorite crime show, or as they’ve wandered up and down the Santa Monica pier, or walked to and from casual dinners on warmer nights. Despite the lack of words flowing between them, Harry would always know what Y/N was thinking as he slipped his light denim jacket over her bare shoulders, capturing her hand within his own once more as he pulled her to the inside of the sidewalk so he could walk closer to the traffic. Silence is nothing new to them, and has even been the host of some of Harry’s favourite moments between the two, given that being able to hold a comfortable pause with someone is such a beautifully rare occurrence. Silence has typically been his friend.

But the silences that linger in their past have never felt quite like this.

From the moment Harry pulled out of Y/N’s apartment building parking lot and into the busy traffic of L.A., the mortal girl had grown quiet, and seemingly immune to Harry’s inquiries about how her day had been since he’d dropped her off at her apartment the night before. Although she first answered him with short snippets— no more than a few words long— by the time he’d peeled them out of the hustle and bustle of the city and onto the highway towards San Diego, even those answers had come to a faltering halt. Instead, Y/N had propped her chin up on her hand, rested her elbow on the ledge of the car door, and turned her pensive gaze at the scenery whizzing by the window, which she watched with a contemplative crease between her brows.

And the infuriating thing is that he’d asked if something was bothering Y/N the moment she’d begun to clam up, and his question had only received a small jerk of her head and a barely audible, “No, H. I’m fine.” No gentle caress of Harry’s hand against her leg or soft squeeze of her palm had granted Harry any more clarity on the subject.

She’s allowed to have secrets, of course. Everyone does. Harry himself certainly has his own fair share locked away in his chest, free from prying eyes and curious minds. But the thing is, she hasn’t held any from him. Any question Harry’s asked, she’s always provided an open and honest answer, even if there’s been a beat of hesitation before the words fall from her pretty lips. But her answer today, of being fine, is so clearly the opposite of that, and her insistence on hiding it means that she doesn’t want Harry to know that she’s upset. Which means— Harry’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he rounds the curve of the road— that Harry’s part of the reason she’s upset. He’s not sure how, or why, or what he’s done, but he’s done something. Otherwise, Y/N wouldn’t be refusing to give him even a fraction of the warmth she’s usually so willing to gift him.

Another sigh heaves from Harry’s chest as he lets one hand fall from the leather wheel onto his thigh, tracing the pattern of his plaid trousers absently. He wants to ask again, just to see if her stubbornness has dwindled by the slightest degree. And it easily could dwindle with just a breath of suggestion from Harry, but he refuses to do that, no matter how badly he may want to. If Y/N is really mad at him for something, how can he convince her that she should forgive him if he’s using supernatural powers to make her admit what’s wrong. Even more, how can he convince himself that he’s justified in earning her forgiveness?

Harry casts another concerned glance at Y/N before shifting in his seat to extract his phone from his trouser pocket. With a quick swipe of his thumb, he unlocks it with ease, his eyes flicking from the road to the phone and back again as he opens Spotify.

“You’re not supposed to text and drive, y’know.”

The sweet cadence of Y/N’s voice, despite its quiet tone, uplifts the corner of Harry’s lips and mills a gentle chuckle in his chest. “I’m not texting. And I’m an excellent driver, sweetheart.” He glimpses at her from the corner of his eye before returning to his search through his playlists. “Got good reflexes.”

The human girl gives a hum of acknowledgement rather than another retort to his comment, and Harry’s newborn grin quickly melts into a frown as Y/N’s attention returns to the window. Harry finds comfort in another sigh as he selects an album from his library, clicking the shuffle icon in the corner and tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Music begins to roll out from the speakers that Harry installed in his car the year before, producing a hip-hop beat and the voice of Christopher Jackson as George Washington. “You could’ve been anywhere in the world tonight, but you’re here with us in New York City. Are you ready for a cabinet meeting?”

Harry taps his fingers to the beat against the steering wheel as he steals a sly peek at Y/N. Although she hasn’t turned to him again, he can see her eyebrows pricking up with curiosity as to what Harry’s doing. That’s all the encouragement Harry needs.

“The issue on the table: Secretary Hamilton’s plan to assume state debt and establish a national bank. Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir.”

The vampire bites back a triumphant smirk as he turns his gaze back towards the road, feigning a lack of interest in Y/N’s response as he begins to rap along to the Hamilton score. “‘Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’. We fought for these ideals; we shouldn’t settle for less. These are wise words, enterprising men quote ‘em,” He cocks his head to the side, allowing his grin to fully light up his face as he captures Y/N’s attention within his. “Don’t act surprised, you guys, ‘cause I wrote ‘em. OWWW!”

Although Y/N’s expression stays neutral, he can see a twitch in her cheek at his loud exclamation, and Harry begins to exaggerate his actions even more as he gestures towards her with twinkling emerald eyes. “But Hamilton forgets! His plan would have the government assume state’s debts. Now, place your bets as to who that benefits.” Harry taps his chin symbolically, feigning thought, and then points towards Y/N with dramatized realization. “The very seat of government where Hamilton sits.”

Keeping her own eyes locked on the road ahead of them, Y/N gives a quick yet defiant shake of her head, the corner of her lip raised just a fraction more than it was a moment before. “Not true!”

“Ooh, if the shoe fits, wear it.” Harry’s simper continues to grow with the warming attitude Y/N’s beginning to display, and he shakes his head in return and raises his free hand in a questioning manner as he continues to rap along. “If New York’s in debt, why should Virginia bear it? Uh, our debts are paid, I’m afraid.” He lifts his fingers into his curls, running them through his roots and pretending to fluff the ends poshly for a haughty effect. “Don’t tax the South ‘cause we got it made in the shade.” Tapping a jeweled finger against the dashboard, Harry emphasizes the beats of his next line. “In Virginia, we plant seeds in the ground. We create; you just wanna move our money around. This financial plan is an outrageous demand, and it’s too many pages for any man to understand!” He pretends to flip the endless pages of an imaginary novel, and then snaps his wrist dismissively with a cocky smirk, deftly guiding the car around the curve of the road with his other hand.

“Stand with me in the land of the free, and pray to God we never see Hamilton’s candidacy. Look, when Britain taxed our tea, we got frisky—” Harry rolls his chest to the rhythm of the song, his dimples deepening in his cheeks as he reaches over towards Y/N and pinches at her side playfully, warmth erupting across his veins when she squeals in surprise. “Imagine what gon’ happen when you try to tax our whiskeyyyy.”

“Thank you, Secretary Jefferson.” Washington says through the speaker as Y/N smacks his hand away and purses her lips, appraising Harry with a raised brow. “Secretary Hamilton, your response.”

For a moment, Harry waits with bated breath, thinking that Y/N won’t rise to his challenge. She’s too angry with him, for some reason he can’t fathom, and when she opens her mouth, he assumes she’s just going to tell him off for—

“Thomas, that was a real nice declaration. Welcome to the present, we’re running a real nation. Would you like to join us? Or stay mellow doin’ whatever the hell it is you do in Monticello?” Y/N rolls with the music just as Harry had, his rainbow cardigan slipping from her shoulder as she gestures towards him with ridicule. “If we assume the debts the union gets a new line of credit, a financial diuretic.” She lists off each subject on her fingers, making a sour face at Harry. “How do you not get it? If we’re aggressive and competitive, the union gets a boost—” She slaps her hand down against her thigh passionately, as if his side of the imaginary argument appalls her. “You’d rather give it a sedative?”

Harry barks out a laugh as Y/N’s expression grows more incredulous, mocking him in character as if they were really on a Broadway stage, and not his ‘67 Cadillac driving down a highway in California.

“A civics lesson from a slaver.” She snorts, reaching across the seat and tapping her knuckles against Harry’s head with a light touch. “Hey neighbour, your debts are paid ‘cause you don’t pay for labour.” She mimics his voice, right down to the slight British tinge that had made it into his Virginian twang, throwing up her hands and shaking them in an overexaggerated motion as she quotes him. “‘We plant seeds in the South. We create’— Yeah, keep ranting. We know who’s really doing the planting.”

One of Harry’s hands shoots up towards his mouth and forms a fist, which he presses against his lips in fake astonishment at her dig, joining the background vocalists in howling. “Ooooh!”

The mortal gestures towards him with renewed fervor in her eyes that barely hides the amusement lingering in her irises. “And that’s another thing, Mr. Age of Enlightenment. Don’t lecture me about the war; you didn’t fight in it!”

Harry bites back the jesting retort of “No, but Mitch did.” that nearly rolls from his tongue.

The minimal restraint goes unnoticed by Y/N, who continues her scathing attack on Harry’s alter ego as she points over her shoulder with her thumb. “You think I’m frightened of you, man? We almost died in the trench,” She pinches together her index finger and thumb and brings them to her mouth, and the ease at which the mimicry of a joint comes to her makes Harry wonder if she’s ever actually smoked one. “While you were off getting high with the French! Thomas Jefferson, always hesitant with the President. Reticent— there isn’t a plan he doesn’t jettison. Madison, you’re mad as a hatter, son, take your medicine. Damn, you’re in worse shape than the national debt is in!” Gesturing theatrically, Y/N lowers her voice, keeping her intensity as she points to Harry. “Sitting there useless as two shits. Hey, turn around,” she makes a small twirling motion in the air with her forefinger, and then juts two digits upwards as if to stuff them somewhere, “bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits!”

Harry bursts into laughter with reckless abandon, wrapping his free hand around his stomach as he bends over the steering wheel. Reaching towards the stereo dials, he turns down the volume, letting the rest of the track fade to background noise before turning his gaze back to Y/N.

Just like him, the mortal girl is bent over with fits of belly laughter, and the sound echoes around the Cadillac in the sweetest way. Harry would take that over the Grammy-winning soundtrack any day.

“That was good, love. You’re a proper Broadway starlette, aren’t you?” Harry says between giggles, rubbing at his dimpled cheeks before settling his hands back on the steering wheel. “Didn’t realize you’d been holding out on me so much.”

“I wouldn’t call that holding out.” The mortal girl counters, fixing the slouching shoulder of Harry’s cardigan as she rests back into the passenger seat with a satisfied air. “You’ve heard me sing all the parts to ‘Non-Stop’ at once.”

“Well, yes, but…” Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Harry shoots a cheeky grin at Y/N as he drums his fingers against the leather wheel. “This time you were actually good.”

An indignant scoff falls from Y/N’s mouth as she reaches across the car and smacks his arm. Harry can sense that she puts a lot of her force behind it, but the action feels as forceful as a fly landing on his shoulder, and he fakes a jostling of his body as he pouts. “You can’t hit the driver!”

“Then don’t insult my Broadway-worthy performances!” She remarks, crossing her rainbow-clad arms over her chest with a defiant air. “I think I’m quite talented— ready to take over the role of Hamilton himself, even.”

The creature rubs over his arm in an attempt to feign soreness, but the simper that’s still dimpled across his face gives him away. “I’m not sure if I’d go that far, peach. I think I’d give you a chorus role, at best.” He snickers as Y/N’s mouth drops down into a disgruntled frown. “If anyone would be playing Alexander Hamilton, it would be me.”

“Uh, I don’t fucking think so.” She shakes her head adamantly, her brows drawing together in petty disbelief. “They wouldn’t cast a fucking Red Coat in an American Revolution play.”

Harry wedges his plump lip between his teeth at the tauntingly insulting nickname as his mind flickers to Mitch once more. He’d be amused, Harry thinks, at how this girl seems to so easily mimic the attitude of those who have known Harry for decades.

“I can do a flawless American accent, love.” Harry’s emphasis on the consonants in his response only highlights his native tone of voice. “But that’s not why I’d be picked to be Hamilton over you. It’s because I just fit the role of the main character better.”

Y/N sputters in her seat for a moment, jaw dropping open at the assured statement. “Are you kidding?” She demands, pressing her palms flat on her thighs as she narrows her eyes. “Like, are you actually fucking kidding?”

“Not one bit.” With his voice dropped to a serious tone, Harry keeps his eyes locked on the road as he replies.

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you really—” Y/N sucks in a deep breath through her nose, as if she needs to calm and center herself in order to form a coherent answer, and her playful eyes slowly drift shut. “I grew up in a small town, dated the same guy for five years, was left behind while he went to university, where he then cheated on me, and then I moved from the town I’d never left before all the way across the country to Los Angeles, California.” Opening her eyes once more, Y/N turns her determined gaze back to Harry, collapsing her hands in front of her for emphasis. “I literally followed the ‘smalltown girl moves to big city’ trope. There are dozens of LifeTime movies that follow the exact same plot. If that doesn’t say ‘main character,’ I don’t know what does.”

“Mm, I’ll tell you what does.” Harry counters, wagging a ringed finger at the human girl while keeping the rest wrapped securely around the steering wheel. “‘Following the life of a handsome, rich British bachelor with a mysterious past, a great fashion sense, and who happens to be very well endowed.’”

“Oh, please. That says ‘one of two love interests from a Hallmark Christmas movie,’ at best.”

The vampire gasps with faux offense, clutching a hand to his dormant chest as he flickers his eyes to the scoffing girl. “A love interest? You think that’s all I’m entitled to?” He asks, brow furrowed as he clicks his tongue. “Did you miss the part where I said I had a mysterious past and a huge dick? Girls would foam at the mouth for me.”

“No, believe me, I know all about those two things.” Y/N snorts, brushing back a loose strand from her eyes before she rolls them. “Unfortunately for you, those are all key characteristics of a protagonist’s love interest.”

A smug smirk overtakes Harry’s face as he flicks on his turn signal, glancing over his shoulder before passing a car that has been going a bit too slow for his liking. “Huh. Well, I suppose as long as you know that I have those key characteristics— particularly that last one— then I guess I’ll settle. S’the most important of them all, I think.”

He expects his joke to receive a rolling laugh from the human girl, or a noise of acknowledgement at the very least, but all that echoes from her is an empty hum from the back of her throat. When Harry glimpses her way again, he finds that she’s resumed her previous expression of quiet contemplation, brow creased in thought as she chews on her bottom lip. Concern begins to weigh heavy in Harry’s chest once more.

“Speaking of mysteries, though…” She fiddles with her fingers, twisting one of her rings around a digit the same way Harry does when he’s anxious, and if he were in a better frame of mind, he might take pleasure in the fact that she’s picked up one of his mannerisms. “There is something I’ve been wondering. About you, I mean.”

From her closed off body language and sudden shift in mood, Harry knows that this has something to do with the guarded and upset expression she’d had when he’d first picked her up. And, from her lead in, he knows that his assumptions were right: her unsettled demeanor has something to do with him. Although the possibilities leave a feeling of unease in the pit of his belly, Harry’s curiosity and his need to satiate her wariness wins out, and he forces himself to nod and ask, “What is it, dove?”

Y/N opens her mouth, but no question falls out. From the corner of his eye, Harry watches as she closes her mouth again, as if she’s decided against asking whatever it is that she wants to. Harry is just about to encourage her to make her inquiry when a surge of confidence suddenly overtakes her body, and she’s spitting it out in a quick and confused voice.

“Why haven’t you introduced me to your friends?”

Out of all the causes for her guarded demeanor, the topic of his friends had been the farthest from his mind. The question catches Harry so off guard that he, for what feels like the first time, doesn’t have a quick response already formed on the tip of his tongue. Instead, his own mouth falls open in surprise, and he casts a quick look at the girl from the edge of his emerald eyes before turning back to the road in front of him.

He knows the answer to her question, of course; it’s the same answer that he’s given to his friends every time they’ve asked him to invite Y/N to a bar trivia night, or a weekend barbecue, or a club outing. And, truthfully, it’s a question that’s been floating more at the forefront of his mind for the last few weeks as he and Y/N have continued to spend time together, gradually becoming a constant in each other’s lives. However, he didn’t expect it to be at the forefront of her own, as well.

And the answer, really, is quite simple: if Y/N were to spend time with Harry’s gang of friends, there would be a larger possibility of her realizing that there’s something off about all of them. Like how they all have a specific jeweled accessory that they’re never without, or how none of them seem to ever grow weary, or how they all have the same cold skin and slight shadows around their eyes. Surely her keen eyes would catch how, despite the copious amount of shots and number of pints they throw back, none of them seem to become inebriated as easily as normal people would, and they can walk out of a club with their heads held high, free of stumbling or exhaustion. It’s with careful planning and—truthfully— sheer luck that Harry’s managed to present himself with a halfway-human appearance, and he has no doubt that it would be ten times harder to keep up that charade when the chances of her discovering what he is quintuple.

“Uh…” His brow furrows while searching for a valid response to give to the mortal beside him— one that would avoiding hurting her feelings, while still sounding believable. “I-I dunno, really. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

The quiet “oh,” that slips from Y/N’s downturned lips alerts Harry that, no matter what response she was expecting, that wasn’t the right one. She tightens her cardigan-clad arms around her middle as she nods tightly, keeping her gaze fixed pointedly on the passenger window.

Harry rubs his bottom lip with his ringed index finger— another nervous tic of his— as he tries to remedy the tension that’s been brewing between them since she first stepped into the car. “I mean… this whole thing—” He gestures between the two of them, and although the urge to take her hand makes his fingers twitch, he returns his grasp to the steering wheel instead of allowing himself to try and extract her palm from the fabric it’s hidden beneath. “— has been between just the two of us, so I didn’t really think… it mattered.” He finishes lamely, knowing that his justification is just making things worse. “Does it need—? I mean, did you want—?”

“Well, it’s just…” Y/N lifts and lowers her shoulder in one quick motion, the cardigan once again sliding down to reveal the strap of her tank top underneath and a path of smooth skin that Harry yearns to touch. “It’s kind of like a— I don’t know, a marker? Like if something is going… well…” She spares him a quick glance before returning her gaze to the passing scenery. “You tell your friends. I’ve, um, I’ve told mine about you— like, my friends back home, over the phone— and if they weren’t so far away, I know they’d want to meet you, so I guess I—”

“You’ve told your friends about me?” Harry cuts over her, the shock laden in his voice raising it from its usual low drawl. “What did you tell them? What did they say?”

An anxious flush begins to creep up Y/N’s neck and onto her cheeks, and Harry suspects that it’s not from the warm wool of the cardigan. “I did, yeah. A couple weeks ago. They called and asked how I was doing, if I had made any interesting friends yet. And, well— I’ve pretty much only got you right now, so I kind of had to say something.” She lets out a weak laugh, more air than anything substantial. “I just said that we, um, we were seeing each other, kind of. Like, mostly we’re friends, and we hang out, and—”

“We do more than hang out.” A grimace tugs at Harry’s own lips at her simplified explanation of their complicated relationship, and he risks an elongated look at the girl beside him, trying desperately to read her expression with no success.

“I know that, but— like, we’re not dating, right? It’s not… that was the best explanation I could give. I don’t think there’s a proper label for what we are— not that we need one.” Although Y/N’s laugh holds more substance this time, Harry can still detect an undercurrent of tension in the sound. “Either way, they said they wished they could meet you, so I was just wondering— your friends know about me, obviously. We’ve met a few times quickly, but we’ve never, like, had a proper introduction, you know? I met Xander and Niall in the hallway, and Mitch briefly when we were having a movie night at your place… you talk about Adam a lot, too, and I’ve never even seen him in person.” Turning her head towards Harry with slow hesitation, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression so frighteningly open that it makes Harry’s stomach turn. “Do they not… do they not want to meet me?”

Despite the quiet and cautious cadence of Y/N’s voice, and the way it twists around Harry’s unbeating heart like a vice, the question draws a soft laugh from the vampire. Shaking his head adamantly, Harry rakes a hand through his curls before it goes to tap against the steering wheel decisively. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it. They’re actually quite eager to meet you. As of late, I haven’t been able get through five minutes without Niall asking about you. He pries like a gossipy nan and s’been getting on my nerves, honestly.”

Relief spreads through Harry as the admission brings a gentle upturn to the corners of Y/N’s soft lips, but it’s short-lived as another thought pops into her mind, and her cautious tone returns at the realization that—

“So you don’t want to introduce me to them, then.” She states quietly, a clear degree of hurt present in both her tone and her eyes as she twists her body beneath her seatbelt to face him head on. As certain as she is in her assumption, the cautious shadow that sweeps over Harry’s face serves as confirmation of her statement, and it creates a hollow pit in her belly that grows with each passing moment.

Y/N is aware that their relationship— or whatever it is, because they still haven’t put a title on it, and that’s a whole other complication that she can’t dive into right now— is about as far from normal dating as they can get. She’d fucked Harry before she knew his last name, he’d told her to take him deeper before he’d even told her where he was from, and he’d asked her on a date two months after they’d met, mostly out of territorial jealousy; everything that they’ve done has been out of the traditional order. But still, she thinks, picking at her nails as the strain between them becomes palpable in the worst way, there are certain things that you do when you’re interested in someone. Certain milestones that indicate that a relationship is viable and can be sustained for an extended period of time. Meeting someone’s friends usually comes around the two month mark, and by Y/N’s calculations, that means they’re nearly two months overdue.

Which is fine, Y/N tells herself, dropping her gaze from Harry’s stormy sea glass eyes as she chastises the self-pity coursing through her veins. Everything about their relationship has been done out of order; why should meeting Harry’s friends be any different?

Except it is. As much as she hates it, it just is, because it’s not even that she hasn’t met them. It’s that Harry, with his guilt-ridden eyes and darkened demeanor, clearly doesn’t want her to.

“Y/N,” His gentle utterance of her name draws her from her thoughts more than his hand crawling across the leather seat does. It’s not until his cool fingers weave through hers that her fidgeting stops, and she even notices that he’s moved. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them, I just—”

“It’s fine, Harry.” She insists softly, despite the tightness in her statement making it obvious that it’s very much not fine. She pastes a thin smile onto her lips as she shakes her head, trying to appease him as best she can. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Harry squirms in the driver’s seat, tightening his hand around the steering wheel as he heaves a sigh through his nose. Y/N might be saying that, but the look in her eyes tells a different story. Does she really think that she can look at Harry with such a wide, wounded expression, and he won’t bend over backwards to make things right? The thought, although scathing, rings true in Harry’s mind as he worries his cheek between his teeth. Does she not know the lengths he’s willing to go to just to make her feel better? For fuck’s sake, he’s making a four hour round trip just to take her to a bookstore in San fucking Diego. Somehow, without Harry noticing it, this human has managed to influence him in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine anyone ever would again. Is he supposed to believe that she’s unaware of that?

Shaking his head tersely at her previous reply, Harry squeezes her fingers in his own, clearing the newly formed lump from his throat. “Yes, I do.” He says firmly, looking at the girl from the corner of his eye. “I can tell where your mind is going, love, and I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Oh, yeah?” Despite the hurt still splashed across her irises, there’s an echo of a challenge in her tone. “So you just hide all of your… hook-ups from your friends, then?”

“You know I don’t have hook-ups, Y/N. There’s no one else, there’s just— there’s you. I only have you.” Harry makes his words as plain as can be, without any joke or teasing to downplay the sincerity of what he’s saying— or attempting to say, because his throat feels so tight that he can barely choke out a single syllable. “And that’s why I haven’t introduced you yet. I… I like what we have. This—” He raises their clasped hands, bringing the back of her knuckles to his lips so he can plant a chaste kiss over her soft skin. “I like it. We’ve spent these last few months in a bubble, just you and me, and it’s been…” A smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips, nervous and shy, but tinged with hope. “S’been amazing. And I’m just… not ready to give that up yet. I…I don’t know how to word it, really. I’m not good with, um—” With emotions, he thinks to himself. He’s not good with expressing any of this, but he forces himself to try. “It just feels like what we have is something I want to keep private, because it’s special. It’s kind of like when you were a kid and you got a new toy, yeah? And you didn’t want anyone to touch it because you liked it so much, you wanted to keep it all to yourself. It was something so personal, you didn’t want to share it…”

Harry trails off to look over at Y/N anxiously, and then comes to a sudden realization of the unintentional mistake he’d made by using such a materialistic analogy. His voice comes out rushed and apologetic. “And I’m not saying you’re an object or anything! I just wanted to explain it better and that’s the first thing that popped into my head. Did that...make sense? It probably sounded a bit dense. Or very dense. I’m sorry.” Harry knows he’s babbling aimlessly now, and with a surrendered sigh, he lowers their hands to the seat, still keeping Y/N’s fingers locked tightly with his. “I don’t want to share you, petal. That’s what it comes down to, really— just me being selfish. I like having your attention all to myself.”

Y/N listens attentively to Harry’s explanation as a new wave of blood boils to her cheeks, warming every inch of her body. As much as she still has her doubts— about his reasoning, about their whole arrangement— she wants to believe him. She wants to believe him more than anything in the world.

So do it, she tells herself, grazing her lip between her teeth as her gaze remains glued on Harry’s (ridiculously attractive) side profile. Believe him. He’s never given you reason not to.

“Okay.” She finds herself saying, and she decides that it’s her turn to raise Harry’s knuckles to her lips for a kiss. His skin is cool against her mouth, as always, and she lingers against him before lowering their intertwined hands to her lap. “I get it. I like what we have, too; I don’t want it to change. Plus,” She can’t resist tacking on a dig, glancing at Harry with a sly look. “From the brief interactions we’ve had, I think Niall and I are pretty compatible, so I don’t blame you for wanting to keep us apart.”

Although Harry barks out a laugh, he barely manages to hide the flash of crimson that streaks through his eyes at the suggestion. “Please,” He shakes his head as he strokes his thumb over the back of Y/N’s knuckles in a possessive manner. “I’m not worried about Niall. If I was going to be concerned about you leaving me for any of my friends, it would be Adam.” Y/N shoots him a curious look, and his dimples pop out of his cheeks as he elaborates. “Good sense of humour, attractive, and arguably the most sane out of all of us, present company included. But he can’t perform in bed like I can, so I think that’s a solid deterring factor. And I doubt he’d drop everything to drive you to a bookstore you found out about through— where did you say you heard about this place again?”

“Uh,” Y/N drops her gaze from Harry, turning her head straight back to the road as she shifts in her seat. “I, um, I saw it on TikTok.”

The vampire snorts obnoxiously, pulling his hand from Y/N’s to rake his fingers through his rouge curls. “Jesus Christ, of course you did.”

Y/N matches his scoffing with ease, crossing her arms over her chest with a defensive air. “Don’t give me that tone! This is exactly why I didn’t tell you! You know, you can actually find a lot of valuable information on there—”

“Yeah, because filming yourself doing the Renegade is a really great use of your time.”

“I didn’t say— wait—” The mortal girl quirks an eyebrow as she regards him with disbelieving eyes. “How do you know about the Renegade?”

“There’s a reason we blocked the app from Niall’s phone.”

///

Much to Harry’s relief, the drive back to Los Angeles begins a lot smoother than the drive to San Diego had.

The bookshop had been extremely similar to the antique store they’d been to a while back— it had the same rustic, messy aesthetic that gives a cozy, homey vibe, and it had sprouted a seed of nostalgia in Harry’s chest. They’d wandered around for a bit with their fingers intertwined, rarely breaking away from each other for too long for the sake of maintaining their buddy system. The pair had filtered through the extensive array of titles and knickknacks, walking under archways built out of novels and winding through tall shelves full of vintage collectibles. Y/N had entertained herself with grazing over the spines of all the different books they’d passed, her eyes glazed with a form of childlike wonder he’d grown so fond of seeing. And while Y/N had been losing herself in all the old treasures the shop had to offer, Harry had found himself losing his thoughts to her dreamy smile instead.

Satisfied with her purchases of Wuthering Heights and Romeo and Juliet, as well as a used copy of Jane Eyre (“Look, Harry, it has little notes in it from the previous owner! Isn’t that neat?”), Y/N had settled into the passenger seat with ease, a light smile on her face as she buckled her seatbelt. Harry’s own mood is considerably brighter than it had been on the previous drive, but his shift in energy had only partially been caused by his purchase of a new Simon and Garfunkel album. Truthfully, Harry thinks, as he watches Y/N thumb through her new second-hand annotated book (the irony of her affinity for literature written from Harry’s original time period is not lost to him), his attitude is merely a mirror of the girl next to him. It’s much more difficult to be in a good mood when she’s in a sour one, but on the flip side, it’s nearly impossible to be grumpy when she’s showing such a sunny disposition.

Her inquiries from their drive to the bookstore are worrying him, of course. He knows that he’ll have to introduce her to his friends eventually, especially if he wants to keep this agreement between the two of them up. He also knows that it’ll be ten times harder to do so with Niall running his mouth, Xander making sly digs, and Mitch and Adam watching him with parental-like concern. Perhaps it would be easier to just call this all off right now, before things continue to progress. It would certainly be better for Y/N, he’s sure of it. Y/N, who gets excited over annotations in her books. Y/N, who sings along off-key to the radio even when she doesn’t know all the words. Y/N, who innocently presses tender kisses to his throat in a manner that draws an obsolete warmth from every limb of his undead body, and who smiles at his stupid inappropriate jokes and returns them with her own, and who fits into his arms like she was made for the sole purpose of filling them perfectly.

Y/N, who is reaching between the two of them, intertwining their fingers together with a practiced motion, and—

“Thank you for taking me to the bookstore.” The human girl murmurs, her lips grazing the back of Harry’s knuckles as she speaks. “I really do appreciate it, although I’m sorry I pulled you away from your friends.”

Harry’s woes melt away as she pecks across his icy skin, and a grin begins to jolt his lips as he brings her hand to his own mouth. “Don’t be sorry.” He smears a kiss to the back before dropping their tangled palms to the seat between them, his thumb caressing over her velvety flesh. “You’re much better company than the four of them. And much prettier.”

“You’re such a flirt.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the comment, but leans further towards Harry in her seat. “And a liar. We both know that Mitch is prettier.”

“Mitch?” Harry’s emerald eyes widen in appalled surprise, the corner of his lips twitching once more in amusement. “Out of all of my friends, you think Mitch is the prettiest? What about Xander? He’s quite the vain one, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugs one shoulder in a light manner. “I like Mitch’s hair. The long style works for him.”

“Ah, it’s the hair. That makes sense; it’s always the hair.” Nodding sagely, Harry allows his lips to pull into a full grin. “So you like it long, hm? Suppose I should keep growing mine out, then?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sherlock.” Y/N shoots him a smirk that’s much more mischievous than his own. “I said the long hair worked for him, not you. Who’s the vain one now?”

Despite the jesting tone of her voice, jealousy twinges in the back of Harry’s mind as his eyes darken from emerald to forest green. He forces his lips to stay upturned as he offers a response that’s only half a joke. “Ouch, Watson. S’not very nice, especially considering how I’ve driven you to San Diego and back today. I think I deserve a bit of praise, don’t you? Instead of you mocking me—”

“I’m not mocking!” Y/N’s protest is muffled around the entertainment in her voice, the rainbow cardigan once again slipping from her shoulder as she shakes with suppressed laughter. “Making one little comment isn’t mocking! It would be mocking you if I acted like you do when you get in front of a mirror— you make this one specific face, like you’re trying to pull a Blue Steel, and—”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Harry huffs as he yanks his hand away from Y/N’s, swiping it through his loose ringlet before clamping it back around the steering wheel. “Ungrateful little wench, aren’t you? I have half a mind to pull over right now and—”

“A wench? I’m a wench?” Y/N’s laughter grows louder, filling the entire Cadillac with the unabashed sound that, despite his act, warms the pit of Harry’s stomach. “Alright then, Merlin. What, are you going to put me to work in a labour house? Is that what a wench does these days?”

“First of all,” Harry quips, giving her a flat glimpse, “I’d be Arthur, not Merlin. Main character complex, remember?”

Y/N rolls her eyes grandly, proceeding to lower her head in a dramatic bow. “My apologies, sire. How could I forget?”

“And second of all,” the vampire states slightly louder, talking over her sarcasm, “no, because apparently, all wenches do nowadays is just make fun of the men who volunteer to spend four hours in a car with them without so much as a ‘thank you.’”

The mortal girl’s upturned mouth drops open in amused disbelief. “What—? I said thank you! Literally three minutes ago!”

“Did you? I don’t recall.” Harry sighs airily as he smoothly guides the car around a bend in the road. “All I remember is you saying you think Mitch is sexier than I am.”

Snorting loudly, Y/N crosses her arms over her middle as she gives a small shake of her head. “Alright, I think that’s a bit of a stretch. I just said he has nice hair. And, while we’re on the topic—”

“Watch it.”

“— his mustache is cool, too. It suits him.”

“You know, I could grow a mustache if I wanted to.” Harry can’t help the pout that plumps his lips, nor can he help the whine that creeps into his voice when Y/N giggles at the sight. “It’s true! I could! I just choose not to. And, really, you should be thanking me for it, because it saves you from getting a carpet burn between your thighs.”

“So I should be thanking you for driving me today, for not growing facial hair…” Y/N ticks off the items on her fingers with a ridiculing gleam dancing through her eyes. “Anything else we need to add to the list?”

Harry tuts as he thinks, pursing his lips in consideration before letting out a sharp exhale as a sly smile carves his dimples into place. “That cardigan you’re wearing. You could thank me for letting you borrow it— although ‘stealing’ might be a more accurate term.”

A miffed expression rises to Y/N’s face just as a flush does. “I didn’t steal it! I’ve just been borrowing it, like you said.”

“Mmm. Alright.” Harry hums in the back of his throat as he glances at the girl beside him, kinking a brow expectantly. “And when can I expect it back?”

“Fairly soon, actually. It—” Y/N’s cheeks boil with more heat as she drops her attention to her lap, clearing her throat gently before continuing. “It, um, it doesn’t really smell like you anymore, so…”

Silence falls between the two as Y/N’s voice drifts off, leaving behind only the sound of Fleetwood Mac gently drifting through Harry’s speakers to cut through the thickening tension that fills the vehicle. It’s only the faint sound of Y/N’s own shallow breaths that reminds Harry that he needs to fake his own, and he sucks in a deep gasp of air, his throat burning as her thick honey and lavender scent settles on the back of his tongue.

“Well,” He begins cautiously, gauging her reaction from the corner of his eye while keeping most of his gaze glued to the road. “You can always steal it again after I get it back, yeah? It’ll be good as new.”

Harry nearly heaves an audible sigh of relief when he sees the edge of Y/N’s mouth twitch. “Not steal. Borrow.” She corrects, her voice as tentative as his.

The heavy atmosphere in the car begins to dissipate as Harry rolls his eyes with fondness. “Agree to disagree, dove.”

Y/N lets out a sound of dissent as she rubs her palms down her legs, drumming her fingertips against her knees with finality. “Thank you for letting me borrow it, H. And thank you for not growing a mustache.” She giggles out, throwing a coy smile his way before her expression grows more gentle. “And thank you for driving me today, although I’ve already said it. I’ll have to think of a way to repay you.”

“Oh, I could think of a few.” Harry says with a suggestive smirk, thrumming his ringed fingers against the steering wheel. “How do you feel about spending the night? We could order dinner from that Thai place you like, take a nice bath, and I could spend a few hours between your thighs while you make those sweet little noises I like so much. Sounds relaxing, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Y/N agrees, keeping her voice as light as she possibly can at the mention of Harry’s skilled tongue working her over. “But that doesn’t seem like much of a thank you on my behalf. Shouldn’t I be the one giving you something?”

Harry casts a look at the mortal girl with a raised brow. “Shouldn’t I get to choose my own reward?”

The fact that he sees the action of eating her out as a reward makes Y/N’s tummy froth. She really doesn’t know how she got so lucky, truly. “You should, but I can think of something better.”

The creature licks his lips once at the promise of something more enjoyable than her taste on his tongue. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie in the bath.”

“Actually…” Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she casts Harry a sideways look through her lashes, twisting her body beneath her seatbelt to angle towards him. “I was thinking of something more immediate.”

The question of what she means by that dies before it can make its way out of Harry’s mouth, stopped in its tracks the moment Y/N’s fingers travel across the leather seat between them. She rests her palm on his thigh for a moment before beginning to massage the muscle beneath his trousers, her delicate fingertips just brushing over his inseam as her hand works its way higher.

A choked groan is all Harry can manage when her touch travels over his suddenly-growing bulge, and it takes all of his focus not to veer the car off the road. “Y/N,” He says, his accent low and thick with warning. “‘M driving, sweetheart.”

“I know.” Her voice thrums darker than normal as her palm presses flat against him, moving in a slow circle over the plaid fabric with insistence. “I didn’t ask you to stop, did I? You can keep driving.”

The laugh that rolls from Harry’s lips is breathless and strained. “Yeah, except I can’t when you’re— fuck—” Y/N squeezes along his hardening shaft, and Harry tightens his hands around the steering wheel with nearly enough force to bend it. “‘M gonna crash this bloody car if you keep doing that.”

“No, you won’t.” The mortal girl smiles sweetly at him as her nimble fingers pop the button of his tartan slacks, grasping his zipper and tugging it down so slowly that it’s almost painful. “You can multitask, can’t you?”

“Not like— God—” Clenching his jaw, Harry casts a pained glance at Y/N, only allowing himself a moment of looking before forcing his attention back to the road. What he sees in that moment, however, is a mischievous glint in her eyes that’s hidden beneath set determination, and the combination would send a shiver down his spine even without her soft hand creeping beneath his trousers. “This doesn’t feel like a reward, pet. Feels like torture.”

Y/N shrugs lightly, continuing to rock against Harry over his boxers as her free hand reaches for her seat belt and clicks the release button. “Maybe it is. Maybe I want to see if you can stay just as focused as I did when you made me cum on that ladder. Remember? Right in the middle of that antique mall?”

Harry watches as her seat belt retracts, a flash of worry striking through his body. Before he can voice his concern for her safety, her hand is dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Y/N,” He strains to get her name past his lips, his abdomen tightening as she grips him snuggly, and her palm feels like agony and salvation all at once. “If you make me cum in my pants with an hour left in our drive, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Or maybe…” Shifting across the seat, Y/N leans into Harry’s ear, her breath hot against his cool skin as she pumps him slowly and ignores the comment he’d moaned. “Maybe I just feel the way you did that day. Maybe I want to tease you a bit.” She uses the precum that’s begun to steadily leak from his tip as lubricant, twisting her hand around his length to elicit a hiss from Harry’s clenched jaw. She takes the shell of his ear between her teeth, nibbling at it just to feel him writhe in response. “What was it you said to me, H? When you slid your fingers inside me in that little music room?”

Harry offers no response other than the short puff of air that leaves his nostrils as he clenches the wheel harder beneath his palms. He keeps his eyes locked on the road, knowing that if he looks down and sees Y/N working him beneath his slacks, he won’t be able to restrain himself from yanking the car to the side of the road and throwing her into the backseat. And however wonderful that sounds— because it does sound incredibly wonderful, especially when Y/N swipes her thumb teasingly over his bubbling tip— he can’t let himself give into her.

Y/N, however, doesn’t seem to accept defeat so easily, and begins to drift her lips down Harry’s jaw and neck. While the area had previously been a sensitive spot for Harry in the worst way, he’s repeatedly come to find that the sensitivity he feels when Y/N caresses him there to be an entirely new and pleasant sensation.

“You said you wanted to have fun, remember?” She licks over the curve of his throat, her own breathing growing heavy when she feels Harry’s Adam’s apple bob beneath her tongue. “Now it’s my turn, don’t you think?”

“Thought—” Harry swallows thickly again, his hips unconsciously thrusting up slightly into Y/N’s hot palm. “Thought this was about thanking me, wasn’t it? Not getting even.”

Y/N pulls away from his skin with a coquettish look in her wide eyes, her brows raised and lips parted into a small pout. “Are you saying that my mouth isn’t enough of a thank you?”

“Your—? Oh, fucking hell—” Harry nearly swerves the car into the other lane of traffic when Y/N frees his length from his trousers, the cool temperature of the air-conditioned car sending a shudder down his spine. The sensation only increases when Y/N dips her head down and extends her tongue to tease his cherry tip with the textured surface. “Y/N.”

“That’s what I thought.” The human girl says smugly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips even when she wraps her mouth fully around his head and sucks gently, just enough to draw a breathless whimper from the man above her.

With one hand still grasped tight around the steering wheel, Harry threads his other into Y/N’s hair, roughly tangling his fingers between her silky locks. He doesn’t guide her head as he usually does, but the idea of being able to move her if he wants allows him to feel a semblance of control.

Y/N clenches her thighs together as she bobs her head down further, heat pooling inside her belly as she feels Harry tug on her hair with the lightest pressure. She trails the tip of her tongue down Harry’s expanse, following the prominent vein that pulses underneath her touch. “Do you still want me to stop, baby?” She asks softly, looking up at him through her lashes as she pumps him in a slow motion, batting her lashes sultrily.

“No.” Harry whines the word as he presses his head back into the seat rest, his neck flexing as he forces his gaze to stay pinned on the road. “No, love, just— fuck, just keep going.” He grits his teeth when he feels her nose smudge along one of his fern tattoos, his next phrase coming out as a barely contained growl. “You’re down there already, so you might as well.”

Tucking her loose hair behind her ears, Y/N takes Harry back into her mouth, pushing herself further and further down his cock at a pace that’s nearly agonizing. Harry twists his hand within her roots to create a makeshift ponytail, holding the locks out of her face so that she can focus better on the task at hand. He feels the mortal girl smile around his length, her tender fingertips drawing a little heart along his exposed pelvis as a cheeky thank you.

As the highway straightens out, Harry risks lifting his hand from the steering wheel for a quick moment, and his deft fingers quickly find the volume button of the stereo to lower it to a quiet lull. He wants to hear every sound of Y/N’s throat opening up for him, and the muted noises she releases at the taste of him in her mouth.

Of course, all of that is nearly overpowered by his own sounds of pleasure, and he struggles to keep himself quiet as he grips the wheel with renewed force. “Fuck, doll, look at you...I just…Christ.” The last word comes out as an elongated groan, his eyelids fluttering as her tongue massages down his extent in slow and even strokes. “Just like that, darling. God, you’re so good. Such a pretty mouth with such a filthy fucking tongue, hm?”

Harry throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder as another vehicle passes them, and a flash of territorial protection runs through him at the possibility of someone looking into the car and seeing Y/N touching him like this. The sight of her acting like such a bold little minx is for his eyes only, and that thought combined with her slow, blissful motions pushes him to inch his foot towards the gas. Harry wants to put a bit of distance between them and the other traffic on the highway, which will insert some much needed privacy into the situation.

His acceleration, however, is interrupted by a particularly rough bump in the road, and his body jerks in his seat as they drive over it. He hears the sound of Y/N gagging before he registers the searing sensation of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and he risks a peek downwards to see Y/N’s watery eyes blinking up at him in disorientation.

“Baby—” He tugs her head up from his lap, concern mingling with the pleasure in his voice as he evaluates her well-being. Her expression is hazy from her ministrations, and she blinks tears from her irises, keeping one hand wrapped firmly around his length as the other wipes away the wetness at the corner of her eye. “‘M sorry.” Harry gulps thickly as he smooths his thumb over Y/N’s scalp, trying to soothe any discomfort he may have caused. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods in a jerking motion as her mood darkens lustfully, and she swipes her thumb over the glistening tip of his cock before answering. “I’m fine, H. Just caught off guard. Don’t worry.” The rasp in her voice is evidence of her actions, and Harry hates how the sound goes straight to his throbbing length in her hand. Undeterred by the harsh thrust that had choked her a few moments earlier, Y/N leans down once more to smear more sloppy kisses to the head of his prick, rubbing the slit against her bottom lip to elicit a cracked gasp from Harry’s lungs. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“You—You are. God, you fucking are.” The praise falls easily from Harry’s raspberry lips as her mouth returns to its previous distraction, fully suckling on the leaking head as her hand continues to work him in a practiced manner. “Feels like a dream, sweetheart, t-the way you take me down your throat like that.”

The mortal girl keens at the validation, and uses it as fuel to push herself further down his shaft again. She makes sure that she’s mindful of how deep she’s taking him, keeping her hand wrapped firmly around the base as a buffer in case they hit any more rough patches of road. With that worry eased, she allows herself to focus on massaging his pulsing prick with her tongue, alternating movements with strong sucks to his sensitive tip. She twists her wrist at a rising pace, matching it to the tempo she’s established with her mouth, working him over messily and swimming in the strangled noises that pour out above her.

Y/N sniffles lightly, talking over Harry’s thick cock to the best of her ability, her voice garbled and raw. “You’re so fucking big, Harry. And so pretty, too.” She moves her hand lower down his expanse, carefully cupping his heavy balls and fondling them between her fingers, preening at the fractured grunt that filters from her lover’s taut throat. “And so full.”

“Please, baby…” The immortal’s quiet plea sends electricity coursing through every cell in her body, his grip on her hair tightening to the point where blots of color speckle her foggy vision. “Don’t stop. Just please don’t fucking stop.”

“I want it.” She whispers around him, the warm breath of her words puffing down his prickling skin and sending goosebumps across his clammy thighs. “I want you to fill my mouth, Daddy. Want every last drop.”

The creature sucks in a rattling breath through the cracks of his teeth, waves of pleasure erupting along his cheeks and down the knobs of his spine, all because of how erotic her delicate voice sounds as it expresses such explicit confessions. “You’re fucking ruining me, dove.”

The girl tugs at Harry’s balls gently, rolling them around her palm again as she gives a particularly harsh suck. He can’t stop the loud whine that tumbles down his tongue in response, his hips bucking upwards a tad in unrestrained need. “I want you to give it to me, H. Please? Want you so bad.”

Harry throws his head further back against the headrest of his seat, his jaw dropping open in a silent moan as his heavy eyelids lull over his rolling irises, tears blearing his vision until he can barely make out the road in front of him. “Gonna—Gonna give it to you, pet. Gonna give you every last bit, all for my sweet girl.”

Y/N hones her blurred sight above her onto Harry’s face, more warmth flooding the area between her thighs. He looks gorgeous as ever, with his prominent features slack in ecstasy, his clavicle cutting into the sweaty skin visible along the collar of his fitted tee, and with his unusually dark eyes framed by his long lashes. His chest is heaving wildly as he tries to keep his composure, his cross necklace glimmering in the sun with every rapid rise of his defined muscles. His sharp jaw is wound taut, the tendon along the structure ticking as he gazes at her drunkenly from above his sculpted cheekbones. His chestnut curls as matted along his temple and over the nape of his neck due to the heat of the moment, his thick brows are knitted together in pleasurable gripe, and his teeth-swollen lips are parted in aroused wonder at how skillfully she’s taking every last inch of him without any hesitation whatsoever.

Y/N watches him intensely, drinking up every twitch of his expression and every soft groan he tries to stifle, her tongue lapping at him with more excitement than before. Harry locks eyes with her through his foggy haze, the corners of his flushed lips jolting upwards into a cocky open-mouthed smirk when he sees just how fucked he’s got her, despite the fact that he’s barely lifted a finger through the entire process. He slowly tongues over his chapped lips, glimpsing back up towards the highway for a split second to make sure he’s avoiding any other oncoming cars. He then returns his attention to the human, giving her head a playful tug and feeling the tip of his cock nudge along the roof of his mouth, resulting in a low hiss streaming past his condescending simper. “Why don’t you take a picture, princess? It’ll last you longer.”

Y/N gives a quick squeeze to his balls, sly satisfaction weaving its way into her chest when she feels him jerk in response, a whined curse of, “Fuck me.” slipping through his defenses. “Maybe you should watch your tone while I’m down here.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her challengingly, his palm grasping the back of her head with more intent and forcing her down, her nose smearing over his tummy as he hits the back of her throat deeper than before. He holds her there for a second, reveling in the way she constricts around him as soft gagging sounds bounce off the walls of his Cadillac.

After a few seconds, he pulls her back up his cock to a more reasonable length, humming smugly as she shudders and coughs dryly, her eyes twinkling submissively. His voice comes out strained, but its dark and accented tenor holds its usual unyielding authority, as well as arrogant chiding. “And maybe you should learn not to talk back to me. Guess I’ll have to pull the paddle back out sooner than expected, huh?”

A shiver coils down Y/N’s spine at the reference to that night. It happened a few weeks ago, but the memory is fresh in her mind as if it’s only been hours. It’s nearly impossible to forget, given everything Harry had put her through, and she often finds herself thinking back on it whenever she needs some relief and doesn’t have his company as help.

The human murmurs her next sentence shyly, her watery eyes regarding him with a certain type of wistfulness that makes his balls ache. “Maybe you should.”

Harry lets out an airy chuckle at her eagerness, which slowly molds into a gravelly moan when she returns to dipping her head with faster, sloppier strokes. A few strands of hair have escaped the ponytail in his palm, and he takes great care in tucking them back behind her ears with his index finger, which then trails across her cheek affectionately. “Maybe I will. But right now, you just worry about finishing me off. Then, we’ll see if I’m feeling up to it some other time— if I feel like you deserve it.”

Y/N nods her head obediently. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“‘Course, darling. Anything for my proper little slut. Especially when she’s taking me down her throat like such a good fucking girl.”

Y/N’s only reply is a broken mewl, and she allows herself to become immersed back into the action of giving Harry the orgasm she so desperately wants to deliver.

She can taste precum as it dribbles onto her tongue, a precursor to Harry’s impending climax, and the flavour makes her center throb. She has half a mind to remove him from her mouth and beg him to pull over so that she can properly ride him, but she doesn’t doubt that doing so would add hours onto their travel time. There’ll be time for all that once they’re back at his place, she reminds herself, pulling off of him just enough to lick her lips before lowering herself again. Right now, there’s just one thing she wants above all else, and if the sounds Harry is making are any indication, she’s fairly close to getting it.

“So fucking close, angel.” Harry pants, his abdomen contracting over and over again as he struggles to keep the car moving at a steady and consistent pace. “Gonna make me cum, aren’t you? Want Daddy to pump that pretty mouth full?”

Y/N hums around Harry as he yanks on her hair again, more for the sensation than to actually guide her. Still, she pulls up from his prick with a pop, looking up at him with doe-like eyes as she replies. “Mhmm.” She hums again, giving him a particularly hard pump and delighting in the groan that rolls from his tongue. “Wanna taste you.”

“You— fuck, darling, that’s fucking it.” Harry’s words echo from his throat in a ragged gasp as he twists his jeweled fingers around her locks once more, straining his head back against the seat to keep himself from looking down again as she retakes him down her throat. “I’m gonna fucking— Oh my God, baby, please—”

Y/N digs the nails of her free hand into Harry’s pelvis, scraping over his plant tattoos as she feels his toned tummy tighten beneath her touch. It only takes one more squeeze of her hand around his balls and one last determined suckle to draw his orgasm from him, and she lifts herself until just the head of his cock is in her mouth as he spills onto her tongue. Her own eyes flutter shut as she whines at the salty taste, swallowing it down without a second thought. She keeps her lips locked around him, wanting to capture every aftershock that spurts into her mouth, feeling ropes of cum splatter across her taste buds as Harry squirms against his seat, whining in encouragement.

She continues to milk him for everything he’s worth, repeatedly prodding the twitching vein protruding along his prick and scraping his sputtering head against the inside of her cheek, wanting to urge every last drop out of him. She only pulls away when the young man whimpers from above, shakily tugging on her hair to alert her that he’s crossing into more sensitive territory.

“Fucking shit…” He murmurs weakly, his breathing erratic as he eases off the gas pedal to reduce the car to a slower pace, rather than keeping the accelerated speed he’d fallen into as he came. He combs his fingers through Y/N’s mussed locks as a faint, exhausted chuckle rolls from his lips, his thumb ducking down to collect a bit of the mess that had seeped out of the corner of her mouth. He pushes the digit past her swollen, colored lips, his breath catching as he watches her clean it off without a single hitch. “God, minx, I’m gonna need a little warning the next time you decide to do that. Thought I was gonna crash the car a few times.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Y/N reassures him quietly, looking up at him with a fond smile before turning her attention to his softening prick. She licks up one stray bead of cum from his tip, delighting in the strangled sound the action draws from Harry. She then proceeds to carefully tuck him back inside his trousers, buttoning and zipping them up with ease. She even takes care to tuck his red and black striped shirt back inside the waistband, but only after she presses a gentle kiss to his still-tensed abdomen, nuzzling her nose across his happy trail and feeling butterflies flutter in her belly when he lets out an appreciative mewl.

Harry inhales deeply as he watches her sit up from the corner of his eye, his hand slipping from her hair to his own to fix the disheveled curls. “No, I suppose not. I have precious cargo. Speaking of—” He reaches over Y/N’s body, and with one hand still on the wheel, fumbles to fasten her seatbelt back across her chest and lap. “Y’gotta keep this on if you ever do that again, alright? S’not safe to have it off for so long.”

A fond smile tugs at Y/N’s lips as Harry sews his fingers over her thigh, squeezing lightly over her jeans before massaging the muscle. She’s noticed that he’s grown more and more touchy and protective each time they’re intimate with each other, and it would be a lie to say she doesn’t enjoy it. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s fingertips stutter over Y/N’s leg for just a moment, and the twitch of his sensitive cock beneath his slacks nearly causes Harry to swerve the car again. “Fuck, don’t say that right now.” He mumbles brokenly, his voice much more raw than he’d like it to be. “Don’t think my poor dick can handle it.”

Laughter bursts from Y/N’s chests, and the contagious sound draws a giggle from Harry’s own body as she settles her fingers over his, twisting them together in an instinctive motion. “Too sensitive?” She teases, lulling her head back against her seat rest while keeping her eyes focused on him, sweetening her voice down into a babying drawl. “You poor thing.”

A bright pink blush sears itself onto Harry’s cheeks as he clears his throat, tightening his hand around the wheel again to ground himself. “Yeah. I only really like overstimulation when I’m the one administering it, not the one receiving it. And you—” He squeezes her thigh as punctuation. “—are much too stimulating, especially when you’re looking at me like that.”

Another honeyed giggle falls from Y/N’s strawberry lips, and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her smile continues to grow. “I like seeing you like this.” She says decisively, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she reaches over and affectionately twirls one of his loose ringlets around her finger. “All flustered. It’s cute.”

“Are you seriously calling me cute after deep-throating me while I drive?” Harry asks incredulously, a snort echoing from his throat as he shifts around in his seat. He’s already uncomfortable in his trousers again, both from the wetness she’d left on him and the way her words are making him stiffen again.

“Mm.” Y/N thrums in agreement as her free hand reaches for the stereo, dialing up the volume again so the sounds of The Kinks can be heard without strain. “I think you’re cute— very cute, actually. Even moreso when you get all blushy. Am I not allowed to say that?”

Another layer of warmth soaks itself across Harry’s small ears and stinging nose, and he tries to play off his childish reaction with a casual scoff. He can’t deny the way the compliment makes him feel, though. It’s different from the praise she usually gives him, which tends to be sexual and in the heat of the moment. But this is much more intimate in such a sweet and tender manner, and he hasn’t received that type of innocent attention from someone in much too long. He likes it, he decides. Especially when it comes from Y/N.

She makes him weak, and though he’d normally seethe at the idea of anyone ever making him weak again, he comes to find that the softness she coaxes from him is something so different from the mainstream definition of that dangerous word. She makes him weak, yes, but not in a destructive sense. This girl— this simple mortal girl with bones made of glass and skin of fine velvet— makes him weak in the knees, and in the pit of his stomach, and in the cement walls he’d built around his phantom heart. She makes him vulnerable in new places that have been entirely foreign to him for the last twenty decades, if the glowing warmth surging through him is any indication. And for the first time in a while, he’s beginning to think that maybe— just maybe— that’s not such a terrible thing.

The vampire comes to the sudden epiphany that being weak for someone is unorthodox to him because it’s a human trait. Allowing yourself to form a deeper connection with someone— with a person completely the opposite of what you are— requires compassion and understanding. It requires willingness and empathy, as well as trust and pure intentions. It requires humanity. And that’s what Y/N is doing, Harry realizes. She’s taking that last wilted shred of humanity he possesses and is urging him to use it. Even though it’s not intentional on her behalf, and even though she has no idea of just how small that fragment of humanity is, it’s somehow miraculously working; just her being the caring soul she’s always been seems to be enough to awaken that part of him.

Despite the fact that the immortal would normally laugh at such a stupidly cringey and cliche concept, there’s no denying that at this point in their little LifeTime movie crossover, it’s true. That’s why it feels so utterly weird— she’s bringing out a side of himself he hasn’t shown in literal centuries. She makes him feel the one sensation he didn’t think was possible for him to ever experience again: She makes him feel alive.

Oh.

…Oh.

Harry snaps himself out of his inner turmoil, sucking in a shaky breath and exhaling slowly, releasing all his consuming thoughts. Relying on his supernatural impulses to focus on any oncoming hazards, the creature allows himself the indulgence of shifting his hunter eyes onto Y/N for a lingering glance. The sun is just beginning to set outside the car window, ducking over the cityscape and washing the distant buildings in mellow shades of soothing pinks, cozy oranges, and buttery yellows. The colors cast a golden light through the glass of his car, and it settles onto Y/N’s soft features like stardust, highlighting her flyaway hairs, the gentle slope of her plush lips, and the dreamy tinge in her captivating eyes.

If Harry didn’t know any better, about both what she is and about not believing in such ridiculous tales, he’d think she was an angel. Not that an angel would ever be seen with the likes of him.

“Y’can say that, petal.” He murmurs after a lengthy pause, reluctantly returning his attention to the long stretch of road in front of him, his palm still secured over Y/N’s denim-covered thigh. If he focuses enough, he can feel her pulse through the fabric, and the steady thumping sends a strange prickling through his hand and into the rest of his body. “You can say whatever you’d like, and I’d listen.”

“Oh, is that so?” She pokes at him with a cheeky grin, using her nail to absentmindedly trace the blood red daylight crystals embedded into the eyes of his lionhead ring. “So you’re actually offering to listen for once, instead of making your cocky little comments?”

The edges of the vampire’s lips jolt with endearment. “Just this once, yeah.”

Except it’s not just this once, Harry thinks to himself, adding on the words he will most likely never have the courage to speak aloud. I’d listen to anything and everything you have to say. No matter how small and insignificant it may be, or however random and useless you might think it is. I’d listen. For you, always.

Harry doesn’t express his private thoughts, but he pretends that he has, and he pretends that the smile Y/N is gifting him at the moment is her heartfelt response to his silent confessions.

He adores it more than he should, and how could he not? It’s so blinding, he thinks it could very well burn him.

///

It’s not that Harry is nervous for tonight, because he’s not.

Spending his Friday nights with Y/N has become as regular as clockwork, and Harry knows that it’s overdue in their routine for him to cook a dinner for her, given that she’d had the courtesy of doing it for him. He’s already picked up her favourite red wine to accompany the gnocchi recipe he’d sweet-talked Vincenzo into sharing with him (Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto— the one she’d enjoyed on their date at Bella Vita), as well as snagged all the ingredients for the lavender lemonade cocktail he planned to make her when she first arrived. He’d even gone so far as to freeze a few petals from edible flowers into his cubed trays earlier in the day, just to up the ante on his already stunning presentation.

He’s already set out shining dinner plates along his kitchen island, tidied and dusted his entire condo, and made each of his friends promise to leave him alone for the night. He’s prepared everything that’s been within his power into sheer perfection; nothing could possibly go wrong. So he’s not nervous, because everything is fine and because he never gets nervous. Being nervous is for morons, and he’s far from being one, so he just isn’t. It’s that simple. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous.

Except that he can’t manage to get his mahogany belt to lie properly against his waist (he’d searched in vain for his black Gucci belt with the logo buckle, but hadn’t been able to find it), the woven leather tail twisting repeatedly whenever Harry tries to tuck it beneath the rest of the belt. And while the rational part of his mind knows that this doesn’t matter, and that he can just guide the tail into a loop along his olive trousers, the irrational part of his mind— which, unfortunately, just happens to be in control at this very moment— knows that tucking it in won’t look nearly as chic as folding it just right to lay the excess along the length of his thigh.

He’s already crafted the rest of his outfit so carefully, spending almost an hour deciding on the red and black patterned vest to pair with the trousers, and an additional forty-five minutes choosing which short-sleeved button up to layer beneath it. He’d ended up picking a yellow top with indigo swatches along the collar, proceeding to tuck the shirt sleeves up along the sleeves of the knitted vest to give the fit a stylish flare. Harry thinks he looks good (although, to be fair, he always does), but he knows that if he turns his attention back to it for too long, he’d end up tearing it off and starting all over again. However, judging by the clock that’s ticking from his bedside table, Harry knows that isn’t an option. It’s 5:42 PM, and Y/N had said she’d be here by 6:00, and if Harry isn’t ready by the time her delicate knuckles rap against his front door, then she might just decide to turn on her heel and leave, and Harry won’t ever get the chance to ask her—

The creature stops short in his tracks, his fingers freezing over the leather of his belt that he’d just managed to settle into place. He’s not asking her that, he reminds himself, loosening his limbs just enough to nervously twist his mother’s ring around his pinky. He’s already decided that— and undecided it, and decided it again— after his road trip epiphany the previous weekend. It doesn’t matter just how weak, or warm, or alive, or just plain human Y/N makes him feel. He knows what this is, and has known since the beginning, and there’s just no way that he can bring himself to ask Y/N to be his—

Harry can’t even force himself to think of the word.

He makes long strides towards his dresser, picking up the string of pearls lying on top of the varnished wood and fastening them around his icy neck. What meaning could that word even hold for him, anyways? He’s a vampire, and though Y/N makes him feel the complete opposite, there’s no way he could ever feel so human as to give into the notion of having a girlfriend. A girlfriend leads to a fiancée, which leads to a wife, which leads to the expectation of a family, and Harry knows that none of those things are compatible with the immortal afterlife he lives now. If Mitch, who is— by any accounts— ten times the man Harry could ever be, hasn’t even managed to lock Sarah— another vampire— into a solid relationship after three years, how could Harry delude himself into thinking that he could do that with a human?

And even if he, with all his commitment, abandonment, and trust issues aside, could have a relationship with a mortal— not any mortal, he reminds himself, but the only mortal that’s ever managed to capture a sliver of his genuine attention— that doesn’t mean he actually wants one. Why would Harry ever want to be tied to one place, or one person? Why would he ever want to have to phone someone before going somewhere, or have to check in on them when they’re doing the same? Why would he want to deal with having to manage someone’s emotions, problems, and life? He’s traveled the circumference of the world and back again, and seen more changes to society than any human could ever comprehend. He loves being reckless, and untethered, and not responsible for anyone other than himself. He enjoys being impulsive and not having to worry about his actions falling back on anyone else’s shoulders other than his own. It’s who he is— it’s who he’s been for a while now— and it’s who he had imagined he’d continue to be for another two centuries.

It’s like that one country song that tormented his radio in the early 2000s— the one about life being like an endless road and about how people should enjoy it while it lasts. He believes the exact words are, “Life is a highway, I want to ride it all night long” or something of the sort. Horrendous song, but it held a pretty decent message.

So with all of this taken into precise consideration, why would he, in his right mind, ever chain himself to one geographical location, and one single fleeting soul?

The answer floats to the forefront of Harry’s mind as he casts a glance towards his half-opened dresser drawer, where a pair of Y/N’s pastel blue sweatpants are folded neatly on top of his own pairs. She’d left them there a few weeks ago, and while Harry had washed and dried them for her with the intention of giving them back, he’d decided it would be a better idea to keep them here in case Y/N ever ended up staying the night without planning to. Just so she’d have something comfortable of her own to put on before falling asleep in Harry’s bed, on the side that he now keeps made up just for her.

Why would Harry ever tie himself to one person? Because that person is Y/N, and she’s not just a person. She is— in every way except officially— Harry’s girl.

Harry can’t even bring himself to deny that fact as he fixes the collar of his shirt and strides out of his bedroom, dimming down the lights before making his way to the glass staircase. Every issue he’d brought up, every fact that he’s tried to use to convince himself that he doesn’t want a relationship, can’t even be considered an issue when it comes to Y/N. He already does all of those things— checking in on her to make sure she’s alright, letting her vent about her stress, listening to her problems with an attentive ear, holding her hand whenever they’re together, kissing her forehead while she lays against his chest, switching her to the inside of the sidewalk to ensure her safety, moving strands of hair out of her face so they don’t become a bother— and he does it all gladly. He’s come to adore the soothing comfort he receives when he walks Y/N to her door after a date, or double checks the locks after she’s inevitably invited him inside. He delights in calling her during her lunch breaks to inquire about how her day is going, and to remind her that “iced coffee isn’t a substitute for water, peach. You’ll feel a lot better on your shift if you drink a glass, alright?” And even when her voice is strained and laden with anxiety as she curls into his side after a particularly rough day, it still sounds like the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard, and the weight and warmth of her body against his own acts like a relaxant to Harry’s cold limbs.

He rolls his shoulders now as he skips the last two stairs and lands squarely on his leather Gucci boots (they’re one of his favorites, and though they’re a simple black, they have a rainbow impression along the lip that he thinks is quite chic). He releases a long breath as he absentmindedly studies over his art wall, his eyes landing on the painting of a deconstructed sunflower. The abstract piece reminds him of the night Y/N had come over to his condo for the first time, and he begins to feel that annoying yet familiar knot between his shoulder blades that always seems to form when he’s away from her. It’s something he hadn’t even noticed until a few days ago; how his body grows rigid and stiff whenever they’re separated, like he can’t allow himself to exhale until she’s beside him again. He supposes it’s a strange vampire tendency— something carnal and territorial inside of him that thinks it’s his job to protect Y/N, the decadent and intoxicating center of his strange obsession, and when she’s not around, unease threads into his muscles until he can be sure his primary source of blood is alright.

Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s something deeper inside him— some other reason to keep her out of any harm and an arm’s length away. However, he refuses to indulge that unsettling mystery right now. It’s too fucking complicated to dwell on.

Ambling into the kitchen, Harry begins to dig through his lower cupboards for the apron he hadn’t bothered to slip on when he was cooking earlier. Pushing aside the white cover with the words “World’s Best (pancake) Tosser” stamped onto the front (it had been a gift from Niall, delivered with a sly grin and a cheeky comment about how the apron was too accurate to pass up), Harry selects the butcher’s apron printed with the phrase “Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’!” He slips the loop over his head and ties the straps behind his toned back with a quick motion, the edges of his lips quirking at the pompous joke. He knows Y/N will make a comment about it.

He hadn’t bothered with the apron before when he’d been preparing the gnocchi simply because his loungewear isn’t necessarily that important, but now that he’s changed into something much nicer than the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d previously worn— and after he’d struggled with deciding on the outfit for so long— the last thing he wants to do is splash sauce onto himself as he navigates his kitchen.

Harry’s mind continues to race with nearly incomprehensible thoughts as he gathers the last of the ingredients needed to finish the meal, his nimble fingers easily peeling the skin from a clove of garlic before he begins to mince it with practiced skill. Maybe that’s the cause of all his confusing feelings, he muses as he tosses a knob of butter into his preheated pan, scooping the garlic onto his knife and adding that to the mix as well. Maybe that instinctual feeling to protect is the root of all his fantasies of a relationship. He can’t possibly want— can’t actually believe that he’d...

Except he does.

Sighing grimly as he snags a wooden spoon from a kitchen drawer, Harry nudges the cabinet shut with his hip before beginning to stir the sizzling concoction in his pan. Somehow, against all odds— against all reason— he’s become attached to Y/N. So attached that he’d spent an hour begging Vincenzo for this specific recipe when he could’ve so easily googled a different one and recreated it to near perfection. So attached that he’d driven to three different liquor stores to find her favourite brand of red wine, which he’d set to chill in his fridge hours ago, because even though a cabernet sauvignon is supposed to be chilled for forty-five minutes at most, Y/N likes it icy cold. So attached that he’d taken care to freeze individual flower petals into ice cubes, just so he could make her a cocktail flavoured with honey and lavender, the exact same way she is. So attached that, for the first time in twenty decades, the concept of a relationship doesn’t draw a disgusted gag from his throat and doesn’t send a ghostly spike of pain to his neck.

“Doesn’t matter.” He mutters the words out loud to himself, as if speaking them audibly will reinforce their meaning. Opening the fridge with a rough tug, Harry nabs the quart of cream he’d purchased earlier that day, bending the mouth of it open and pouring it smoothly into the saucepan and giving it a stir. It doesn’t matter if he wants a relationship, because there’s no way that Y/N does.

A bitter laugh tears its way through his chest as he reaches for the bowl of gorgonzola cheese he’d shredded earlier, scattering the ingredient into the saucepan and slowly mixing it in. He’s arrived at the same point he has all week when he’s had this argument with himself. The same fact that’s stopped him in his tracks each time he’s dared to think that— if he should ask— Y/N would say yes to him becoming a more permanent fixture in her life. She’d say yes, he thinks. Or he hopes, at least. She’d say yes, until she wakes up in the middle of the night to Harry caged over her with crimson irises, terrifying shadows below his waterline, black veins webbing out from his eyes, and a blood-soaked mouth bared to reveal his dagger-like fangs. Then, she’d be gone.

Not gone, he amends in his head, the thought somber and acrid in his mind as he reduces the sauce to a simmer. He’d have to go after her, of course, but not in the way a man usually goes after a woman. Despite how they’d joked about it casually, Harry most definitely doesn’t belong in a LifeTime movie. No, he’s from a much darker genre— less leading man, more malicious creature that lurks in the night— and the only thing he could do when he chases Y/N down would be to wipe all traces of himself from her mind entirely. That’s the ending they’d be destined for if he let himself buy into his romantic delusions. It’s better not to put a label on anything. No labels keep a degree of separation between their two lives— at least, that’s what Harry tells himself. And as much as it pains him, a degree of separation might be exactly what they need.

And yet, when Y/N knocks on his door two minutes later, just as he’s sprinkling various ground herbs into the sauce and setting it onto the back of the stovetop to wait until they’re ready to eat, Harry can’t help the giddy grin that immediately decorates his dimples. He hurries to untie his apron and tosses it onto the back of one of the chairs lined against his kitchen island, dragging a ringed hand through his purposefully tousled curls as he nearly super-speeds to the front door of his condo. He trips on his way there, spewing curses as he barely saves himself from face-planting the ground like an imbecile. He straightens himself out with a petty huff, slowing down slightly and being more mindful of every step he takes. His smile has already returned before he even yanks the door open.

Y/N— his Y/N, he allows himself to think affectionately— is dressed from head to toe in his own clothes. Well, almost head to toe, he corrects, casting a sly glance at the way her black jeans hug the curve of her hips too perfectly to be his own pair. But he recognizes the black and white speckled short-sleeve button up that’s french-tucked into the high-waisted denim, and shrewdly notes the addition of a Gucci belt looped around her waist— the very one he’d been searching for earlier. She’s even styled the shirt the same way he does, with half the top buttons undone. However— Harry licks his lips unconsciously as his eyes hover over her exposed chest— she’s paired the top with a delicate looking black lace bralette that catches his hungry gaze the moment he spots it. Even the black ankle boots she’s wearing are reminiscent of his own fashion choices.

“Y’know,” Y/N’s amused voice cuts through his stupor, drawing his attention back from the obvious canvas of her body and up to her glittering eyes. “It’s not very gentlemanly of you to check out my tits before even saying hello.”

Harry’s mouth crooks sheepishly in response as he reaches out to her, looping his muscled arms around her waist and pulling her inside the condo and against his body with ease. “Hello.” He murmurs obediently, thumbing at her waist over the silky fabric as a teasing yet fond cadence sews its way into his voice. “So this is where my clothes keep disappearing to, hm? I searched for that belt for an hour today.”

“Shouldn’t have left it at my apartment, then.” Y/N counters easily, curling her hands against Harry’s chest. He can already feel her heat beginning to web through his entire being, warming him in a manner nothing has in the last two hundred years. “And you said tonight’s dress code was casual formal— which makes zero fucking sense, by the way— so I figured the best way to conform to that would be would be by wearing your own clothes.” A drop of hesitance begins to colour Y/N’s tone as she casts her gaze towards his own, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tries to read between his teasing words for any hint of actual annoyance. “Is that… okay?”

“Perfectly okay, angel.” Harry soothes the worry lines that have formed between her eyes by stamping a kiss onto her forehead, allowing himself to linger for a moment to inhale her familiar scent of sugar and flowers. It seems more powerful today than it usually is, almost bowling him over right there in the foyer, and he takes a step back to regain control of himself under the pretense of closing the door. “Honestly, I’m a little miffed that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

“‘Miffed’?” The mortal girl laughs as she reaches down to retrieve something from the ground, and it’s only then that Harry realizes that she’d had an overnight bag in her hand before he’d tugged her into his grasp and caused her to drop it. “Who says ‘miffed’? Are you a sixty-seven year old woman named Betty?”

Although he allows a chuckle at her incredulous question, Harry’s attention has focused in on the bag inches away from her outstretched hand. Cursing himself for being too wrapped up in her appearance to notice the item she’d been toting, Harry quickly fetches it from the ground before she can, carrying it further into his apartment before setting it down on one of the island chairs, as if the small distance could make up for the initial lack of manners he’d displayed.

“No, I’m not. I’m just British.” He should bring the bag up to his bedroom, he thinks, just so Y/N doesn’t have to wonder where her clothes are when she’s fraught with exhaustion later. But that would mean having to leave her side, and the grip her fragrance has on his senses right now won’t allow him to do so.

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot.” Y/N lilts with an exaggerated air, another giggle rising from her petal-like lips as she leans against the marble countertop on her elbow, propping her chin up in one hand and resting the other on top of the stone. She regards him with all the affection that he doesn’t deserve, and yet always seems to crave, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to not grasp her chin in his hand and sift their lips together just to taste her laughter. “Along with ‘pip pip’ and ‘cheerio,’ right?”

“Yes, those phrases are definitely at the top of my vocab list. You’ve heard me say them a million times.” Harry rolls his eyes playfully, shaking himself from his distracted thoughts as he steps back behind the counter to effectively put a little bit of much needed space between him and the mortal girl. His restless hands are already outstretched to his bar shelves before he even asks, “D’you want a drink, darling?”

Y/N watches with innocent curiosity as Harry sets two lowball glasses down on the counter before reaching into his cupboard for a jar of honey, which he spoons onto an awaiting plate. He rims the glasses in the syrup before dipping them into sugar, sparking confusion in Y/N as she tries to decipher what cocktail Harry is making her. Her befuddlement only grows as he extracts a bottle of clear liquid that she assumes is vodka and a purple concoction that she can’t identify. “What are you making?”

“Lavender lemonade.” Harry answers swiftly, reaching into a drawer for the small double-ended measuring cup tool that Y/N still can’t remember the name of, as well as his crystal cocktail shaker. Y/N observes with wide eyes as he fills the shaker with ice and vodka before picking up the mysterious liquid. “This is lavender syrup. Not homemade, unfortunately, but I do buy it from a little organic grocer I know at the farmer’s market. Adds a nice floral note to the drink, and mixes well with the lemonade.” He caps the container and shakes it expertly (the way his muscled arms ripple with effort doesn’t go unnoticed by her, as it never does) before setting it down on the counter and making his way to the fridge freezer. “S’where I get my honey, too.” He chances a look over his shoulder just in time to see Y/N dip her finger into the honey pooled on the plate and pop the digit into her mouth, and Harry has to force himself to tear his eyes away as she sucks lightly on her fingertip, her cheeks just barely hollowing. “Do you like it?”

“Mhmm,” Y/N hums around the digit as she keeps her eyes shamelessly glued to Harry’s ass while he bends down to open the cooled drawer, retrieving a tray of cubed ice and coming back over to add one large block into each lowball glass. “Are there flowers in there?” She asks in wonder after retracting her finger from her mouth with a pop, leaning over the table more to observe the decorative ice that has filled the cups.

“Mm.” Harry matches her hum with a more pleasured undertone, both from her noticing the small detail, and from the unobstructed view of her cleavage that her new position allows him. He picks up the shaker and strains the light purple lavender and vodka mixture into the glasses, topping off each cocktail with a can of sparkling lemonade that he’d also retrieved from the fridge. “S’pretty, isn’t it?” He asks, stirring the drinks with a spoon before holding up one of the glasses to the light and handing it to Y/N. “My own creation. You’re the first person to try it.”

Their fingers graze as Y/N accepts the glass from him, sparking electricity up her entire arm, and she can’t help the irreverent moan that thrums in the back of her throat as she brings the glass to her lips, tasting the honey and sugar first before the lavender coats her tongue. “This is so good, H.” She praises, licking a lingering dab of honey from her mouth between her words. Twisting the glass in her hands as she regards the lilac drink, Y/N eyes him over the rim of the crystal, pupils blown wide. “I didn’t think honey and lavender could ever taste so good.”

“You know, I used to think that, too.” Harry’s mumbles knowingly as his own eyes drift a shade darker. He watches the human girl’s neck strain with her swallow, as if she knows he’s trying to keep his gaze away from there and she’s beckoning him back. “But it’s my favourite flavour combination now. Can’t ever seem to get enough.”

The comment goes right over the mortal girl’s head, just as Harry knew it would. His expectations of the cocktail in his hand are also met from his very first sip; although the concoction is delicious, it pales in comparison to the fragrance wafting across the island from Y/N. He may as well be drinking water, honestly. But he knows he’ll end up repeating the recipe a few more times at the very least, just because Y/N tells him that it’s her favourite drink he’s ever made.

“You say that every time I make you a new drink, dove.” Harry can’t help but quip coyly at the repeated compliment, setting his crystal tumbler against the counter with a quiet thud. “Am I supposed to keep believing it?”

“Obviously. Especially when each drink keeps getting better and better.” Y/N licks a drip of honey from the rim, her tongue delicately capturing the sugar crystals before her lips settle back onto the edge to take another sip. “You would be an amazing bartender, but we’ve already talked about that before.”

“We have, yeah.” Harry smiles softly as he recalls the conversation they’d had weeks ago, where she had said his drinks were better than anything she’d had at a club, and he had responded by saying he doesn’t have the patience to be a bartender. That conversation feels as if it happened a lifetime ago, and considering how much closer they had become since, it quite literally could be. “But refresh my memory, will you? Why is it that I’d make such an amazing bartender?”

Y/N gives Harry a jokingly flat glance as a response to his smug tone, but decides to humor him, nonetheless. “Well, you obviously have the mixology skills, and I don’t doubt that the whole thing you have going—” She nods her head to him over the island with a teasing smirk. “—would get you endless tips.”

“My whole thing?” Harry repeats the phrase with an air of faux confusion. “What do you mean, my whole thing?”

He knows what she means, of course. But he won’t deny himself an opportunity to hear Y/N feed his ego with sweet-spoken praise.

Y/N doesn’t buy his innocent act for a minute, but still indulges him, yet again. She likes to see Harry preen under her compliments just as much as he likes to receive them. “You know…” She casts her eyes over his figure slowly, picking out every detail she can comment on as she wedges her bottom lip between her teeth. “Your whole look— the tattoos, the muscles, the dimples, the sparkling green eyes, the shiny curls… all of that would have any drunk customer draped over the bar for you. And even if you couldn’t get by on looks alone, you’re absolutely charming. To the point of ridiculousness, honestly, but,” Y/N eyes him suspiciously, and while her words are mostly in jest, she can’t deny that she’s seriously thought them at some point in time. “I’m not entirely convinced it’s genuine. Although being able to fake that kind of attitude would serve you well in a crowded bar.”

Whatever Harry was expecting to hear among the praise, an accusation of dishonest behaviour wasn’t it. His brow furrows deeply as his lips turn down into a displeased grimace, and he drums his ringed fingers over the marble countertop as he cocks his head to the side. “What d’you mean?” The question is earnest now, no longer a coquettish teasing remark, and the warmth the mortal girl had provided him with begins to subside as a flash of icy doubt digs shards through his chest. “Not genuine? Does it seem like I’m faking it or something?”

Y/N teases her lips with her tongue, unable to stop the nervous tic as she hears the displeasure that clearly strains Harry’s tone. Setting her own glass down on the counter, Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I just mean, like… I don’t know. I don’t really think that now, but in the beginning…”

“What?” Harry prompts her with more intensity than he’d meant to, but he’s spent so much of this past week analyzing their every interaction while wrestling with his own thoughts that he’s already on edge; he needs to hear what Y/N had thought of him when they’d first met. His own recollection of the memories has made him flinch multiple times, particularly the times when he’d thought that Y/N was as boringly ordinary as humans come. He can only imagine what her take on the situation is. “Did I— was I rude, or—?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” She hurriedly assures him, shaking her head hard enough that her loose locks bounce around her shoulders. “You weren’t rude at all— the opposite, actually. I don’t know, it just seemed… like it was too good to be true, y’know?” Her voice grows impossibly softer as she traces her finger over the rim of her glass, her eyes dropping from Harry’s like it hurts her to hold them. “Like, there was no way that someone could be so attractive, so funny, so good in bed—” Harry can hear blood creep up the nape of her neck against her will, beginning to pour into her cheeks. “—and so charming. Something had to be an act.”

Despite the urge Harry has to justify his actions, he knows there’s nothing he can say that could prove Y/N’s original perception of him wrong. And, in all honesty, he has no right to. As much as he’d like to argue the fact, and as much as he did genuinely come to enjoy being around her, Harry can’t deny that from the first moment he’d approached Y/N in that club, he’d dialed up his charm as he always did without a second thought. He’d flattered her, flirted with her, done everything he could to convince her that she should take him home so he could indulge in the two things he’s always manipulated people for: sex and blood. And when that worked, he did it again, and again, and again, until they’d fallen into the pattern they have now. He’d never lied, of course, and he prides himself on that— every compliment he’d paid her had been rightly deserved. But even that justification doesn’t stop the shame that’s twisting its way through his limbs and making his head heavy.

She had thought something had to be an act, and she had been right. Harry himself was an act, in every aspect of the term— stretching the truth about his past, opening himself up just enough to make her open herself in return, setting her up so that she’d become dependent on their relationship. And all so he could sink his teeth into her neck without a second thought.

He can’t exactly pinpoint when all that had changed— singing “Non-Stop” in his kitchen? The jealousy he’d felt when he spotted her on a date with that insipid idiot, Jacob? Seeing her in that yellow sundress when he picked her up for their first date?— but the fact that it had changed doesn’t erase how it had started. It doesn’t erase the cruelty he’d hidden beneath his calculating words, intricately-placed caresses, and dirty promises.

“Harry.” He’d been so caught in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Y/N had moved until she’s standing right in front of him, one of her velvet hands twisting into his own as the other tucks a loose curl back from his creased forehead. “I don’t think that now. You know that, right?” Even after securing the ringlet, she keeps her palm pressed against his cheek, and Harry can’t help but lean into the burning heat her touch provides. “I just— I’d never met anyone like you. There was no one like you where I grew up. I didn’t think someone could be so…” Y/N worries her lip between her teeth again, and Harry wishes he had enough in him to smooth the bite mark with a touch as soft as her own. “I didn’t know you yet. But I do now.”

The vampire inhales a shaking breath as if he needs it to live, lifting his own free hand to wrap over the palm Y/N rests against his cheek. Weaving his fingers through hers, he drags her hand lower until her skin is secured over his lips, and he smudges a gentle kiss against her handprint. There’s something so tender in her words— no one could ever accuse Y/N of being disingenuous. But he needed to hear this, he thinks as he presses his mouth repeatedly to her palm, the throbbing of her pulse in her wrist catching against his cheek. He needed to hear how she thinks she knows him. It’ll serve as a reminder that he can’t allow himself to succumb to the weak thoughts he’d battled earlier in the day. As much as Y/N assumes she knows him, there’s things that she’ll never understand— things he would never allow her to understand, because she doesn’t deserve such a terrifying burden— and how could he keep up that pretense while allowing her to call him her boyfriend?

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Harry mutters the words into her fragile skin, inhaling her intoxicating aroma deeply until his throat burns in agony. It’s a small price to pay for what he’s put her through. “It’s alright. I don’t blame you for doubting it.” The smirk he forces onto his face is nowhere near believable, but he manages to keep the strain out of his voice enough to sell it. “I’m pretty hard to believe, y’know? Especially when you grew up with people like Cucumber Dick.”

Successfully diffusing the moment, Harry’s comment tugs an irritated groan from Y/N’s chest, and she takes a step back from him as her hand falls from his face, despite her other fingers still remaining tied with his own. “You can’t just keep calling him Cucumber Dick, alright? He has a name!”

“Yeah, Bradley.” Harry says in distaste, his nose wrinkling as he shakes his head slowly. “S’honestly worse than Cucumber Dick. I’m doing him a favour— a bit of charity work.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat thoughtfully as she steps back around the kitchen island, Harry’s arm extending over the countertop as she tugs his hand along with hers. “Then don’t do me any favours like that, alright? Can only imagine what you call me when I’m not here.”

A few names pop into Harry’s mind— dream, darling, angel, and countless others that he’s murmured to himself in the privacy of his condo— but they’re tainted by the memory of his friends confessing how they’ve talked about her when he hasn’t been around to hear it. How they’ve compared her to different foods, used that to reference her, as if that’s all she is to him. As if she isn’t the only person who has managed to make him feel something in over two lifetimes.

In the rational part of Harry’s mind— which, once again, is sadly not the part of his mind that’s ever in control— he knows that he can’t blame his friends for thinking that. It’s his own fault for being so insistent on that fact over the last few months. How many times had they questioned his motives behind his daily phone calls to her, or how often he found himself dropping everything just to spend some time with her? How many times had he rolled his eyes at their assumptions that he wanted more from the mortal girl than he’d ever admitted? How many times had he asserted that there was nothing more that she could offer him than her body and her blood? They’d only listened to what he was saying, despite knowing that Harry’s reassurances were false. Did any of them suspect that things had changed for him now? Or did they still think that Harry’s only motivations behind his relationship with Y/N are primal?

Harry pushes the badgering thoughts from his head as best he can as he reaches for his apron that’s still lying over the back of the chair. He can’t dwell on those thoughts now. If the turmoil twisting inside of him hasn’t subsided by the end of the night, he’ll call Mitch once Y/N is fast asleep under the extra blanket he keeps on his bed just for her. Although he doesn’t relish the thought of admitting he was wrong to the likes of Xander or Niall— he knows their teasing and taunting would never end— he can talk to Mitch about it without the worry of judgement.

“Why don’t you put a record on, petal?” Harry asks absentmindedly, nodding his head towards the record player set up in the corner of his living room as he slips his apron back over his head. “I just have to boil the gnocchi, and then—”

“Wait, wait wait,” Y/N cuts over him with an increasingly gleeful expression, rounding the edge of the island again to tug on the strap of Harry’s apron. “Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’?” She repeats, unable to bite back the giggles that are rising through her throat. “Please tell me you didn’t buy that for yourself.”

His troubling mindset disappears the moment laughter falls from her lips and echoes around the kitchen. “‘Course I did. And why wouldn’t I?” Harry simpers as his deft fingers easily secure the ties behind his back in a neat bow. “I’m Mr. Good Lookin’, and I’m cookin’. S’only the truth.”

“Your vanity is astounding. Truly.” Y/N trails her finger from the strap of the apron to the pearls around Harry’s neck, stroking the silky stones with the lightest touch. “Like, borderline narcissistic.”

Snaking his arms around her waist, Harry easily pulls the mortal into his body, securing her against his chest just as he had done when she’d first arrived. It’s comfortable for him to have her pressed against him like this. The steady rising and falling of her chest and hummingbird beat of her heart against his own unmoving organ keeps him centered, like his own personal lifeline.

“Is it so wrong to be confident in my appearance?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as his dimples pop from his cheeks, and he slides his hands from Y/N’s back to her ass, cupping and squeezing firmly in appreciation. His smirk only grows as Y/N’s cheeks begin to boil from the suggestive contact. “How can you contradict me when it gets such a reaction from you?”

“I think that has less to do with your looks and more to do with where your hands are.” She quips dryly, and yet her nails dig into Harry’s exposed collar bones with the slightest of pressure, a surefire sign of just how much his touch affects her.

Harry leans forward as the girl’s breathing grows more erratic, and he nuzzles his nose along hers while keeping the smallest of spaces between their lips. “Either way, I’m getting what I want, aren’t I?”

To his immense pleasure, Y/N’s words are breathy and strained when she replies, a side effect of the shallow inhales her body draws against his. “Which is?”

“You. More specifically, you melting under my touch like you just can’t get enough of it.” Harry drags his lips across Y/N’s for no more than a second before continuing his path up her jaw, only stopping when he can feel the flushed shell of her ear beneath his mouth. “You should indulge your vanity a little more often, sweetheart. S’quite fun, honestly.”

Y/N shivers beneath Harry’s touch, her eyelids fluttering as his cool breath rolls over her ear and down her neck. Turning her head to the side, she locks her half-lidded gaze with his own before slotting their lips together to indulge in the lingering taste of honey and lavender that sits on his tongue.

Despite his instinct to draw her closer while curving her body into his own, Harry separates their lips with a gentle nudge of his forehead against her own, his breathing growing just as erratic as Y/N’s. Control, he reminds himself as heat prickles along his icy skin from the tender pads of Y/N’s hands. This isn’t like their first meetings, when he could invite her over under a pretense and take her against the counter before they’d even finished their drinks. This is different now. She’s different now.

“Why don’t you go put a record on?” He says again, his voice noticeably deeper than it was when he first made the request. “And I’ll finish getting dinner ready. Sound alright?”

Y/N manages to nod without removing her forehead from his, but that seems to be the only movement she makes; her palms remain pressed firmly against Harry’s tattooed biceps, even after he reluctantly releases his hold on her body. She can’t help it— it feels too good to be so close to the young man to allow herself to willingly walk away. Something in his presence is so calming, so steady to her, even when he’s whispering obscenities in her ear.

But outweighing the need to be next to him is her desire to make him happy, and if he wants her to pick out a record… “Alright.” She nods once more as her hands slip from his skin, trailing down his forearms and grazing his wrists before falling to her sides. “Any record?”

Harry drags a ringed hand through his curls, his lithe fingers tugging on the locks before falling to his side in a loose fist. “Any record.” He confirms as he reaches for a kitchen drawer, tugging it open to extract a long metal spoon. “Anything you want to listen to.”

He watches as a serious expression paints itself over the human girl’s face, as if the task he’s given her is of the utmost importance. She turns on her heel and marches out of the kitchen as if on a mission, and as Harry turns towards the now-boiling pot of water on his stove, he knows that his own face reflects a look of fondness. It’s too easy to let his guard down with her, he thinks as he ladles his homemade gnocchi into the rolling water. When she looks at him, there’s such an openness in her expression that he can’t help but allow himself to be seen.

But being seen doesn’t always feel so sweet, which Harry remembers the moment he hears Y/N’s melodic voice ring from the living room.

“When did you get a piano?”

Harry’s hand freezes mid-scoop, the few gnocchi that had been dangling on the edge of his spoon falling into the boiling water. A bit of the liquid splashes out and lands on his arm, but quickly fizzes to room temperature once it meets his freezing skin.

“Uh—” He clears his throat as he tries to refocus on his task, but his actions are much more frantic than careful as he finishes filling the pot with gnocchi. “I’ve had it for a while, remember? I mentioned it to you before. At the antique mall.”

When his explanation receives no response, he gives his own frustrated sigh, and sets down the polished spoon to retrace Y/N’s steps out into the living room. As he expected her to be the moment he heard her question, he finds her with a reverent hand tracing the edge of the matte black Steinway grand piano that’s occupied a space in nearly every home he’s had since he purchased it in the 1920s. Seeing her nimble fingers drift over the hand-crafted edge brings back a hazy human memory to Harry’s mind— a flash of sharply manicured fingers and a strangely pale hand, adorned with an opal ring as they danced over the pianoforte in an opulent sitting room. The sound of tinkling laughter that rang like a bell, pitched almost high enough to make his ears ache, and a soft, hypnotizing voice slathered in the most delicate accent he’d ever heard.

Harry has to blink a few times to bring himself back to the present.

“What was that, darling?” He hopes his voice isn’t nearly as strained as it feels when he refocuses his eyes on Y/N’s waiting gaze. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said that you told me it was in storage.” She glides over the intricately carved music stand, the digit dancing across every twist and curve of the decorative panel. “Why did you bring it out?”

“Uh, I dunno, really.” An uncomfortable itch settles onto Harry’s skin, his stomach turning as Y/N takes a seat on the creaking piano bench set in front of the instrument. “I just, uh, figured it should be displayed somewhere, instead of gathering dust in a storage unit. It’s a vintage Steinway, y’know? Those need to be taken care of.”

In truth, the vintage instrument had rung Harry quite a high bill over the last few decades, not only in the price it cost to keep it in permanent storage, but in the services he’d had done to it once a year to keep it in its nearly pristine condition. Despite keeping it out of sight to keep it out of his mind, he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let the instrument fall into disrepair, just in case he ever decided to display it again. Or sell it, as he’d been leaning towards doing over the last few years— a genuine Steinway piano in condition as good as his had quite the high price tag. But he’d never been able to force himself to part with it, as it looked too similar to the one he had originally learned to play on. Even though those memories were tainted with the usual pain that came with thinking about his human life, it was still his life, and he ached to hold onto some part of it. It’s why he had his mother’s ring, and his sister’s earring, and his father’s cross and pocket watch. It’s why had a small wooden box hidden away under his bed with memorabilia from his first life. As much as it hurt to remember— and it did, in ways he can’t possibly begin to describe— remembering seems better than the alternative.

“Well, if you want to show it off…” Y/N’s fingers are trailing down the fallboard now, inching their way towards the ivory keys with a daydream-like purpose. “You shouldn’t hide it away in the corner of the room. It would look gorgeous in front of the windows, don’t you think? A proper centerpiece.”

It would make a beautiful centerpiece, and he originally intended it to be so after the delivery company had dropped it off at his condo a few days before. After bribing Adam and Niall with the offer to buy out their bar tabs for an entire month, the three of them had spent the afternoon rearranging the furniture in his living room to display the Steinway in the center of the room. He’d thought that, knowing how excited Y/N had been to hear him play the piano in the antique store, she’d like to hear him play in his own home, on an instrument he knows like the back of his hand. He’d even begun kicking around the idea of teaching her a few songs, but those musings had quickly turned sour as the instrument brought back more memories of his foggy human life. In the end, he’d decided to restore his living room back to its original state with the addition of the Steinway thrust into the corner, where the ghosts of his past could plunk the keys quietly without drawing too much of his attention. He’d done his best to ignore the instrument over the last couple of days, and in his hurricane of thoughts that had centered around Y/N, he’d nearly forgotten about its existence completely.

He can’t be mad that Y/N is asking about it; after all, he’d brought it out of storage with her specifically in mind. But seeing the newfound object of his affections with her fingers poised over the keys brings back a rush of emotions he’d been repressing for the better part of two hundred years.

“It—” Harry clears his throat once more, trying to rid himself of the lump that is rising up like bile. “It took up too much space in the center of the room. Wasn’t very cohesive.”

“That’s too bad.” The mortal girl’s words fall from her mouth in a murmur as her gaze remains locked on the keys, almost as if she’s in a trance. Her finger begins to press down on the ivory with a slow and meticulous motion. “It seems like such a shame to—”

“Let’s— Let’s not get into that now, sweetheart.” Harry says hurriedly, his fingers catching her own before she can trigger the instrument to make a sound. “Dinner’s almost ready, and you—” He forces a grin onto his lips. “—still haven’t picked a record out.” Threading her fingers through his own, Harry gently tugs the human girl up from her seat on the piano bench. “Would you rather I do it instead?”

As he expected, Y/N wrinkles her nose with distaste as she rises to meet his emerald eyes. “No.” She scoffs as a quiet snort rises from her throat. “I don’t need to listen to some weird experimental 60s music while trying to eat dinner.”

While Harry would normally bite back at her dig, he just responds to her with a thin laugh and a smile without dimples. “Exactly. So why don’t you pick something out,” He jerks his head over his shoulder to where his record player and vinyls sit neatly on a shelf lining the wall, ignoring the ghastly spike of pain that twinges his neck as he does so. “And I’ll plate dinner, yeah?”

“Alright.” She agrees, and Harry nearly breathes a sigh of relief before she finishes her phrase. “But you’ll play for me later tonight, won’t you?”

The phantom pain grows until it extends down Harry’s entire spine, filling every nerve in his body with a sense of anxiety and trepidation. The last thing Harry wants to do is move his fingers over those weighted keys, and with the burning sensation now shooting through his fingers, making his hand twitch around Y/N’s, he’s not even sure he can.

But he is sure of one thing, and that’s the fact that he can’t ever seem to say no to Y/N.

“Yeah, dove. Of course.” Keeping his voice even, Harry pulls her away from the extravagant instrument as inconspicuously as he can. “Later tonight.”

///

There are so many things that Harry has done over the last two centuries that have both angered and confused him.

He’s held grudges against himself over the way he’s acted, the people he’s surrounded himself with, the people he’s allowed himself to trust, and the blatant disregard for human decency he’s allowed himself to succumb to. In the last twenty decades, Harry has amassed enough vendettas for fifty lifetimes, let alone the one endless life he’s been given. And yet, even with all of those missteps in mind, the fact that Harry ever looked at Y/N and deigned her an ordinary human might be one of the biggest mistakes he’s ever made.

It’s so clear to him now— sitting across from her at his kitchen island, the few scented candles flickering between them doing almost nothing to cover her sugar and flower scent, her eyes reflecting back the burning flames and something else that Harry can’t quite put a finger on— that he’s not sure how he ever missed it. How had he once leaned against the counter in her own kitchen, looked into those very same eyes, and managed to convince himself that it was only her blood that drew him to her? How had he listened to her sweet and sensual voice murmur delicate phrases about her day and her emotions, and not realize that he was inching closer and closer in order to hang on every word, as if she had the supernatural ability to compel him as he did her? How had he seen her in the smokiness of the club, with her fragile skin practically luminescent under the pulsing strobe lights, and thought that she was so utterly unmemorable and unnoticeable that he could easily take her home for one night without anyone wondering about her whereabouts? How had he convinced himself that it would only be one night?

There are so many things that Harry will always be angry about, will never forgive himself for, and his initial perception of Y/N is one of them.

If he has any redeeming qualities, he thinks as he watches the mortal girl spear a bite of gnocchi onto her fork over the rim of his wine glass, it’s that he can, at the very least, admit when he’s wrong. He can admit to himself that this girl— this self-assertive, stubborn, vivacious, kind-hearted mortal girl— is the most interesting and most intriguing human he’s ever met. And as terrifying as that is, it’s also a little thrilling; it’s been so long since Harry has felt a pull to someone like this. The sensation, while unfamiliar and something he’s severely out of practice with, is just as electrifying as he remembers, and now that he’s had a taste of it, he can’t stop chasing that high.

It’s that undeniable pull which drive Harry to murmur an unauthentic apology about not having a dining table (he’d chosen a larger living room over a dining area when he moved in, and his friends just settled for eating at Niall’s when they wanted to sit down somewhere) because he’s secretly pleased that he has an excuse to sit next to Y/N. It’s that pull that makes him hang on her every word about her day like she’s relaying the plot of a Greek tragedy, his facial expressions perfectly mimicking hers as she describes the customers she dealt with. It’s that pull that sends his fingers forward of their own accord to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear as the soft melody of Hozier’s “Like Real People Do” floats between them like a comforting lullaby. It’s that pull that, when she inquires about the entrée he’d prepared for them, causes him to proudly admit that he’d recreated the recipe from Bella Vita after wrestling it from Vincenzo. It’s that pull that urges him to scoop up one of his own gnocchi and bring it to Y/N’s lips to feed her the first bite of the meal, his hand cupped delicately under the utensil to catch any sauce that might drip onto her shirt (which is really his shirt, and that fact alone delivers so much more pleasure than he ever would’ve thought possible).

It’s that pull, that adrenaline rush, that indescribable sensation, but underneath it all, it’s her. It’s always been her, since the moment they’d first met. From the moment he first laid eyes on her. How is it, Harry wonders, that his first sighting, enhanced by his supernatural senses, had managed to make him so blind? How is it that he’d had this girl in front of him all along, and he’d managed to delude himself into thinking that he’d be able to stop himself from becoming vulnerable for her? And maybe, he wonders slowly as he clears Y/N’s empty dinner plate from the marble island to the sink, he’s still deluding himself, because for some strange reason, being vulnerable for the mortal girl doesn’t seem to be as terrifying as he thought it would be.

The vampire suddenly recalls a specific day all those weeks back, when Y/N had stayed over and they’d taken their first bath together in his jacuzzi. He thinks about how he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable for just a fraction of a second, when he had admitted to her that she often caught him off guard. She had returned the sentiment, and he remembers the words he'd uttered to her amidst the warm steam and quiet splashing of the water. He had said that he found her influence on him— the influence they had on each other— to be scary, but exhilarating. And now, after spending so much time together and allowing himself to grow closer to her than he ever could’ve imagined, he’s come to find that his attraction to Y/N is no longer incredibly scary. Yes, there’s still a sliver of fear in him at the notion of opening himself up to her, but it’s only natural— there isn’t one person in existence who isn’t scared to strip themselves emotionally bare for someone else. However, his genuine excitement soothes his hesitations, and it startles him in a pleasant manner he can’t quite decipher.

Setting the dirty dishes into the sink to be dealt with later, Harry risks a glance at Y/N over his shoulder. He watches as she wipes the corner of her mouth on a napkin before raising her stemmed glass to her lips, delicately draining the last of the crimson liquid before placing it back down with a clink. When he catches her sparkling eyes, Y/N shoots him a smile that, even with only one corner of her lips lifted, manages to dazzle him from across the kitchen. Harry can hear the fresh flush of blood that overtakes her cheeks, as if the wine itself is settling beneath her fragile skin.

Yes, vulnerability should petrify him. Vulnerability means danger. It means giving someone the ability to break you, and Harry knows this from firsthand experience. Harry might be the only monster in the room, but in this moment, Y/N is the ominous threat. She’s the vague silhouette that hides in the shadows, the mysterious mass circling just beneath the waves, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But now that he’s dipped a toe in, Harry can’t stop himself from diving headfirst into those dangerous depths.

“D’you want another drink, love?” He asks, turning back around and leaning his hip against the marble counter as he cocks his head to the side in a questioning manner. “Some more wine before dessert? Or another cocktail?”

Y/N glances at her multiple empty glasses in front of her, but shakes her head slowly. “No, I’ve had enough to drink. But I’d love a cup of tea, H. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. A cup of tea, coming right up.” Harry reaches for the sleek kettle that he keeps set on the backburner of his range, flicking on his tap with his other hand before settling the hollow object under the stream of water. “You know, I think this is the first time I’m actually making tea for you. S’a real treat, isn’t it?” He flashes a toothy grin at the girl before placing the now-full kettle back onto the burner and twisting the knob to high. “A proper cup of tea made by a proper Brit. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully as she circles her finger around the rim of the empty wine glass, her motions just starting to get heavy with the liquor. “It’s just some dried leaves and water, Harry. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

“I think you’re the one who’s usually full of me, aren’t you, pet?” Although his back is turned towards the stove, Harry can hear the effect his words have on the human girl by the small, nearly imperceptible gasp that leaves her lips. “‘M not sure you’re allowed to make that observation.”

Despite the choked feeling that’s welled up in her throat at his comment, Y/N quickly clears it out with a small cough, capturing Harry’s sea glass eyes with her own to stare him down stubbornly. “I’ll make any observations I want.” She says firmly, crossing her arms over her exposed chest in a mockingly angered pose.

A fond laugh rolls from Harry’s stained lips as he opens his cupboards and extracts two tea cups that are painted with vines of wisteria flowers. He’d found them a few years back at the very same antique mall he’d brought Y/N to, included in a china tea set that he hadn’t been able to resist buying. The hand painted violet flowers had caught his eye from the moment he’d glanced at the china cabinet they’d been locked inside, and he’d barely been able to tear himself away from the glass case to retrieve the key from an employee.

He’d always had a soft spot for wisteria; there had been a wisteria tree outside of his childhood home, and he and Gemma used to collect the bunches of blooms and bring them inside for their mother. That had been a long time ago, of course. When they were children. Harry can’t quite remember at what age they’d stopped digging through the garden for flowers— it might have been when Gemma turned eleven, which would’ve made him…. Seven? Harry frowns at the uncertain memory as his grip tightens around the delicate china cups. Yes, he reminds himself, he would’ve been seven. His sister had been four years older than him, and it was around age eleven when she’d declared herself a lady, and said that it wasn’t ladylke to dig through a garden and walk around with dirt under one’s fingernails, and Honestly, Harry, you must wipe your feet before stepping into the house, or else you’ll track mud everywhere—

With trembling hands, Harry sets the wisteria tea cups down on the marble counter, flexing his fingers to get rid of their shakiness before reaching for the respective saucers. It seems that Y/N’s ability to make him feel more human isn’t just resurfacing the manners and emotions he’d long suppressed, but the memories, too. How long had it been since he’d heard his sister’s voice ring in his head as clearly as that? How long had it been since he’d thought of the tiny foyer of his childhood home, which he’d tracked mud into countless times as his mother and, eventually, his sister clicked their tongues at him? Is the tree still there, he wonders as his thoughts continue to spiral. Or had it been cut down in the two hundred years since he’d last seen it, long after his family had all…

Harry places the saucers carefully down against the marble before bracing himself against the edge for just a moment. Barely thirty seconds have passed since Y/N’s retort, and although his enhanced mind had begun to spiral, it’s not too late for him to give a half-sane response.

“I know you will, sweetheart.” He finally murmurs, hiding his face as he pulls open his fridge to extract the carton of oat milk he’d purchased last week. Y/N, he’d come to learn over the last few months, prefers milk over cream in her tea, just like she prefers sugar over artificial sweeteners.

Harry can feel the burn of her eyes into his back as he extracts a teaspoon from his kitchen drawer and the kettle begins to whistle. Focusing and relishing in being the object of her attention, Harry removes the kettle from the heat, flicking the stove off before reaching for the canister that stores his tea bags. In an effort to fully distract himself from the troubling thoughts of his past, he begins to hum the tune to the Hozier song that had been playing earlier, before the record had spun to stop just before they’d finished their entrees. With the near murmur of the melody reverberating through his throat, he spends a moment debating on whether or not he should use the matching wisteria-adorned teapot that sits on the highest shelf of his cupboard, but quickly decides against it— it’s too formal for the occasion. But tossing two separate tea bags into the two teacups, he finds as soon as he does it, doesn’t feel right either; after all, he’d told Y/N that he’d be making her a proper cup of tea. That fact settles the manner in his (moreso than usual) changing mind, and within a few moments, he has the two teabags deposited into the teapot before pouring in the boiling water to steep the satchels of dried leaves.

Halfway through his preparation, his ears had perked up with the distinct sound of Y/N rising from her chair, which had been followed by the muted pattering of her feet against his hardwood floor. Not bothering to ask where she’d been going, Harry had instead decided to wait for his suspicions to be confirmed. Sure enough, just as he’s stirring the sugar and oat milk into Y/N’s cup of tea, he hears the quiet press of one of the keys of his piano. C4, if his aural skills are still as tuned as they used to be.

Setting the two cups of tea onto their respective plates (Y/N’s with milk and sugar, and Harry’s plain), the vampire easily balances both cups of tea in his hands and makes it to the living room without spilling a single drop.

Just like before, Y/N seems entranced by the piano, plunking out different notes and letting them ring into the open air. Harry can’t help but wince slightly as he approaches— as talented as Y/N seems to be at some things, music theory does not appear to be included.

“Christ, love, a tritone?” He protests, his voice hinging on a whine as he approaches the piano bench. “What, your fingers couldn’t make it a perfect fifth, hm?”

The answer to his teasing question comes in the form of Y/N’s entire body jumping as her fingers stutter over the keys, an audible gasp falling from her mouth while her hand clutches to her chest and her head turns to stare at Harry over her shoulder. “Jesus, you scared me!” She says breathlessly, her palm massaging over her the area where Harry can hear the rapid pulsing of her heart. “Have you always creeped around like that?”

A playful grin tugs at the immortal’s lips as he extends an arm out, handing the china saucer and cup to the human girl. “Only when I’m carrying boiling tea. Scooch over, will you?” Nudging his way onto the newly unoccupied space of the bench, Harry nods his head towards the keys she had been previously playing. “Was that an original composition?”

“Beethoven, actually. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it.” Y/N blows gently over her tea with pursed lips before taking a small sip. Harry knows that his sister would have condemned the action, along with the following slurp, by calling it unladylike, but the inelegant manner leaves a fond feeling buzzing through his body once more.

Raising his own teacup to his lips, Harry chuckles quietly over the rim of the cup. “I wouldn’t have pegged it for the classical era, actually. Sounded more atonal to me.” He takes a small sip of tea, the liquid scorching down his throat in the best way. “You said you took lessons when you were younger, didn’t you? Do you remember anything?”

“Twinkle twinkle little star, maybe.” Y/N takes another small gulp before setting the cup back down on the saucer. “I was, like, eight. Nursery rhymes were as far as I got.” Her gaze drops to the caramel coloured tea with a curious gaze; Harry had remembered exactly how she takes it, despite him only having seen her make a cup of tea once a few weeks ago. “But you, on the other hand… Mr. Good Lookin’...” Her lips jolt into a teasing grin as her eyes flicker to the side to capture his own. “You’re quite the musician, from what I remember. And you promised to play me something.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Harry’s smile grows imperceivably tighter as he takes another drag of the boiling drink, his throat growing thicker with every swallow. “And you still want me to?”

Brow furrowing at his reluctance, Y/N cocks her head to the side in bewilderment. “Of course I do, H. I loved listening to you play for me at the antique mall.”

Harry thinks back to that day, when he’d stuttered his way through a Chopin piece before his stumbling fingers had given up entirely. “I’m just a little out of practice, love. It’ll be a bit messy.”

“I didn’t ask for perfection; I asked for you to play.” Her warm fingers find Harry’s upper arm, massaging the tattooed muscles just underneath the tucked sleeve of his shirt as she regards him with wide, curious eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you’re nervous because you might mess up… Well, you heard me play.” Her light laugh rings through the cavity of the piano, reverberating off the highest strings in a way that only Harry’s immortal ears can pick up. “I won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Despite his reservations, a half-hearted smile finds its way to Harry’s lips over the rim of his tea cup, which he sets down on the living room side table after taking one last sip.

Flexing his ringed fingers, he repositions himself on the piano bench, moving more towards the center of the seat as Y/N moves down to the edge to give him full access to the piano. For a brief moment, his hands hover over the ivory and ebony keys as he evaluates the repertoire he knows he can muddle his way through without too much trouble. He’s already played a few Chopin pieces for the human girl, so that composer is out. Liszt doesn’t seem to fit the mood, either, as his pieces are much too ornamented for their quiet living room ambience. Debussy is out before Harry can even consider him; the last thing he wants to do is invoke any more memories of sitting at a piano with the much too familiar composer. And Beethoven and Mozart seem too contrived for this setting, as well.

With a frown on his wine-stained lips, Harry spares one glance at Y/N, whose own eyes are glued to his floating fingers. She reaches out with a tentative touch of her own, gliding them across Harry’s tensed knuckles with a pressure so soft that, if not for the heat of her skin, Harry might not feel it at all. The cautiousness of the motion is not lost on him— it’s almost as if Y/N is worried that she’ll spook him out of playing, like any sudden movements could break him. It reminds the creature of the awareness he has whenever he touches her; how he always carefully evaluates the amount of pressure he uses whenever he glides his fingers over her vulnerable skin.

As if she were a butterfly, he thinks, not for the first time. His butterfly.

Harry doesn’t remember making the conscious decision to start playing. He doesn’t even recognize the piece that’s tentatively ringing from the piano until the repetition of the first motive, when Y/N emits a satisfied breath and her warm hand falls back to Harry’s thigh, rubbing gently over his olive trousers with that same delicate touch, almost as if he were a butterfly.

The creature’s fingers continue to glide over the ivory keys, his phrases growing smoother and more confident with every passing moment. He pays careful attention to the dynamics of the piece, trying his best to recall the sheet music that he hadn’t looked at in decades, but it only takes about thirty seconds for him to realize that it’s easier to just let himself feel the music. With Y/N’s hand continuing to dance over his thigh in time with the tune, Harry lets himself play around with the score, peppering in crescendos and decrescendos as he sees fit. He draws out some of the minor phrases, hoping to wrench on his obsolete heartstrings the way he had when he first learned the piece in the early 20th century, and hovers his fingers over the bass notes as he uses the pedal to make them ring out into the living room.

Halfway through the composition, Harry realizes that he’s breathing with the phrases, timing each inhale and exhale of his lungs with the musical lines. It only takes him another two measures to realize that Y/N is doing the same, her body leaning into Harry’s as Harry leans into the instrument. And that, he finds as his jeweled fingers slide over the keys, tugs on his heartstrings more than any melody ever could.

As he approaches the end of the piece, he softens his touch, his fingertips almost ghosting over the keys as he gently presses the final notes. Harry keeps his foot hovered over the pedal, allowing the quiet cadence to fade to silence in its own time, and as it does, he can feel his body coming back into itself— which is strange, considering he hadn’t noticed the trance-like space he’d slipped into.

Y/N, however, must have noticed, because her voice is hushed and hesitant when she speaks again, waiting until the final notes have completely faded to silence, as if she’s afraid that she’s interrupting something.

“That was so beautiful, H.” She praises, her hand still rubbing over his clothed thigh. The motion would normally drive Harry mad, but for some reason, all it does to him in this moment is bring a strange lump to his throat. “What’s it called?”

In his unfamiliar haze, it takes Harry a moment to find his own voice. “Uh, Papillons.” He says through his thick accent, clearing his throat subtly as he lowers his hands to his lap. He hadn’t even realized they were still lingering over the last notes. “It means—”

“Butterflies.” The mortal girl nods in recognition, a thoughtful look over her face as she taps a finger against his trousers, her tone slightly jesting as she murmurs her next sentence. “I know enough sixth grade French to understand that. Is it a French piece, then?”

“No.” Harry jerks his head in the negative, only remembering to soften the agitated motion after it’s happened. He raises his keen eyes to meet Y/N’s, a reminder of where he is. And a reminder of who he’s with. “It’s the fifth movement in a suite by Robert Schumann— the “Polonaise,” in B-flat major. S’one of my favourites.”

“I can see why.” Y/N murmurs, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It was wonderful, really. ‘Out of practice,’ my ass.”

Even with the residual anxiety still coursing through his veins, Harry manages to force out a chuckle at her teasing. “Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are. But Schumann has always been a favourite composer of mine—” Harry takes Y/N’s teacup from her, noting how her eyes had flickered to the ground, as if she was looking for a place to set it, and she sends him a thankful grin as he sets the cup next to his own on the end table. “—along with his wife. They were both incredibly talented musicians.”

“His wife?” Intrigue threads through Y/N’s voice as she props up an elbow on the piano, resting her chin on her loose fist as she turns her body towards Harry. “She was a musician, too?”

Harry hums affirmatively as he cracks his knuckles, flexing his fingers in his lap to loosen them from the buzzing sensation that’s still prickling his skin. “She was, yeah. They had a pretty passionate love story, y’know. That’s why his music is so beautiful— he wrote it all for her.”

Y/N doesn’t miss the reminiscent tone that seeps into Harry’s voice, and she threads her fingers through his own as her eyes widen with a gentle plea. “Will you tell me about them? Schumann and his wife?”

“I—” Hesitating at her request, Harry squeezes her hand tightly, half in affection, half in warning. “It doesn’t have much of a happy ending, darling. A bit of a tragedy, that one.”

“I want to know.” The human girl nods her head stubbornly as her eyes flash with determination. “Just because it has a sad ending doesn’t mean it’s not worth knowing.”

Harry pauses for a moment, allowing her words to fully sink into his mind and spark the beacon of hope that’s sat coldy in his head for so long. “I suppose that’s true.”

He mulls over where to begin, thinking back to all the newspaper articles he’d read about a child prodigy in Germany in the 1820s, who was the daughter of—

“So the story really begins with Friederich Wieck.” Harry’s voice falls into a smooth cadence as he begins, thumbing over Y/N’s warm knuckles absentmindedly as he recalls the information. “He was a music teacher, most known for piano, but what he really wanted to be known for was raising a child prodigy. He had a few children, but the one who filled that description was Clara, his second oldest.”

As Harry begins to spin the tale, Y/N can’t help but focus on his expression. Although his eyes are set on their linked hands, she can tell that his gaze is far away, as if he’s seeing the scene play before his eyes as he tells it. It’s fascinating, she thinks, seeing him focus so intently on something as niche as an old love story between musicians, but more than that, it’s new to her. This is a new side of him that she hasn’t seen before— not cocky, or charming, or playful. This side of him is intent, as if he wants to make sure that every word he speaks is the truth. His expression is almost as interesting as the story itself.

“Clara’s parents, Friederich and Mariane, didn’t really get along very well, and Clara had a lot of trouble when she was young; she didn’t really speak until she was four. But music always came easily to her, which made sense, considering her parents.” Harry’s free hand drifts back to the ivory keys, just resting over the lacquered surface. “Her mother was a musician, too— an accomplished singer. But after her parents split when she was five, when Mariane had an affair with a family friend, Clara was left with her father. And her father wanted to focus on her music career. He gave her hour-long lessons every day, and made her practice for two hours on top of that. She made her performance debut when she was just nine years old, in 1828, at the Gewandhaus in Leipzig.”

“Okay, wait. Pause.” Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits for Harry’s faraway eyes to refocus on her confused expression. “What does playing in Leipzig at age nine have to do with a love story?”

An amused laugh slips from Harry’s lips at Y/N’s impatience. “I’m getting there, sweetheart. A little bit of patience would be beneficial to you, I think. And a little bit of trust in me, yeah?”

Although she huffs a little bit, Y/N relents, squeezing Harry’s hand in acknowledgement at the phrase he always seems to end up repeating: Trust me. She vaguely wonders why it’s so important to him. “Alright, fine. Continue.”

“Thank you.” Harry swipes a hand through his tousled curls before settling it back down on the keys, running his fingertips over the smooth surface absentmindedly in the same rhythm he’s swiping over Y/N’s knuckles. “Okay, so… She played in Leipzig a few times that year, and once was at a private music party at someone’s house, where she met Robert Schumann.” At the mention of the name, Harry shoots Y/N an ‘I told you so’ look, which she meets with a roll of her eyes. “He was a gifted pianist, and was so inspired by Clara’s playing that he got permission from his mother to quit his law studies in order to study piano under Clara’s father, Friederich. So in 1830, Robert moved into the Weick household as one of Friederich’s students, and—”

“Sorry, I— pause again.” Brow furrowed, Y/N’s eyes narrow in suspicion as she mulls over Harry’s words. “So— if Clara was, like, nine—”

“Eleven, actually. It’s 1830 now, remember?”

“Alright, eleven. If Clara was eleven… You said Robert quit law school to study music.” Y/N’s narrowed eyes widen as she regards Harry, as if asking him to contradict her suspicions. “How old was Robert?”

“Around twenty, I think.” Harry says casually, lifting his shoulder in a light shrug. “He was born in 1810, so— yeah. He would’ve been twenty.”

“Twenty?” Y/N yanks her hand from Harry’s as she fully twists her body to face him, as if just hearing the horror in her voice isn’t enough. “He was twenty? I thought this was a love story?”

“It is! It’s just—”

“No, it’s not! It’s gross!” Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Y/N shakes her head harshly, her loose hair spilling over her flushing cheeks. “A twenty year old shouldn’t—”

“He didn’t! Nothing happened until they were older, love.” Harry captures Y/N’s hand within his own again, smoothing over her knuckles as he hurries to reassure her. “And it was the nineteenth century… a nine year age gap in a relationship wasn’t exactly uncommon.” For a brief moment, Harry wonders what Y/N would think if she knew just how much older he really was than her. Would she react with the same horrified expression she had now? Yank her hand from his again as she had just done?

“Yeah, well…” Y/N’s appearance is still bristled as she shoots Harry a condemning look. “There’s a difference between a nine year age gap and a child—”

“Nothing’s happened yet, sweetheart.” Harry bites back the involuntary laugh that bubbles through his chest at the indignant tone of her voice. “Now can I continue? Or do you want to yell some more?”

Although her response is grumbled, the mortal girl mutters, “Fine. Continue.” as Harry lifts her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.

“Thank you.” He lowers her hand back down to his thigh, smoothing it over his trousers before continuing where he’d left off. “So Robert studies under Clara’s father and stays with them for a year. And although Clara and Robert were just friends, Friederich could tell that they were becoming close, which he didn’t like. And before you say anything,” Harry watches as Y/N’s lips twitch into a frown. “It wasn’t because of Robert’s age. Friederich didn’t want Clara to fall in love with anyone; he just wanted her to focus on her music. He still wanted his child prodigy, you know? So he began to take her on tours through Europe. But by the time Clara was sixteen, it was clear that she and Robert had feelings for each other. They wrote countless letters to each other, signed them ‘your special friend’... And when Clara turned eighteen, Robert asked Friederich for his permission to marry his daughter. And Friederich said no, because that would ruin his plans for Clara’s music career.”

Despite her hesitation at the relationship, Y/N still mutters a quiet “Harsh.” at the story.

Harry’s hands return to the keys, but this time, they do more than hover. He begins to press a few notes slowly, letting one ring out completely before moving to the other, and it takes Y/N a few moments to realize that he’s playing an actual melody, albeit a deconstructed one.

“Because Clara wasn’t twenty-one yet, they needed her father’s permission to marry, so Robert took the case to court. And it was…” His fingers stutter over the keys for a moment as his face twists up, remembering how the story had decorated the society pages of newspapers back then. “Messy. Really messy. But in the end, Robert won the case, and he and Clara were married. And they wrote all this beautiful music together…” Harry’s left hand joins his right over the piano, moving with more intention now as he adds a quiet harmony to his slow melody line. “They weren’t good with words, but they were good with music. That’s how they communicated with each other. You can hear the love in everything they wrote, the devotion they had for each other. Listen,” He says in a hushed voice, the melody of the music becoming unbearably sweet. “D’you hear it?”

“I do.” Y/N nods softly, her fingers massaging Harry’s thigh muscle as he continues to play. It’s not a lie, either; there’s a sincerity in what Harry’s playing that twists within her chest.

Or maybe, she thinks, her eyes trained in the profile of the man beside her, it’s just Harry.

“Didn’t you…” Y/N hesitates both in her words and her motions over Harry’s leg as a new thought tugs at her mind. “Didn’t you say the story had a sad ending? That all seems good, isn’t it? Clara and Robert got married, wrote music together…”

Harry’s fingers begin to slow down, returning to the reduced melody he’d been playing previously, as if weighed down by the knowledge he’s about to share. “Uh, yeah. Robert had a lot of problems— mental health issues. Later in their marriage, he became manic, had episodes where he saw angels and demons… and he was worried he’d hurt Clara.” Harry says quietly, risking a glance at the girl beside him, who’s watching him with such wide and trusting eyes that he almost can’t bear it. Harry knows what it’s like to fear hurting the ones you care for. “He tried to kill himself, and when he was unsuccessful, he asked to be taken to an insane asylum. And he never went home again. He died there, just a few days after Clara was finally allowed to visit. S’like…” Harry’s fingers pause over the piano once more. “S’like he was waiting for her. Before going.”

Detecting the emotion in his voice, Y/N raises her hand from his thigh, smoothing back a few loose curls before gently setting her palm over the curve of his neck. “That is a bit of a tragic story, I’ll admit. To have fought so hard for each other for so long… And then to lose all of it like that…”

“Yeah.” Harry clears the lump from his throat as subtly as he can. He’s certainly no stranger to loss, to feeling helpless at being unable to save someone you love… He knows that pain all too well.

As if she can sense the darkness in his mood, Y/N rubs a comforting hand across his shoulder and down his arm, drifting over his inked skin with a warm touch. Her comment, however, is more lighthearted than her caring caress.

“I still think the age gap is a little weird. How do you go from writing letters about being ‘special friends’ to falling in love?”

Harry rises to her baited joke, doing his best to shake himself from his introspective thoughts as his fingers begin to drift over the keys once more. He focuses on just his right hand now, playing out an absentminded yet tender tune as he speaks. “So if I started to call you my special friend, you wouldn’t like it?”

“God, no— that sounds awful.” Y/N scoffs, her own hand drifting to the ivory keys. “We’re sleeping together, not making mud pies in a kindergarten class.”

Harry’s laugh is more genuine as he begins to slow down his playing, plucking only single notes that Y/N echoes in the lower register of the piano. “Alright, fine. Not special friends, then.”

“There’s just so many cooler historical ways to say we’re having sex, y’know? None of that ‘special friend’ bullshit.” Y/N continues to match Harry’s notes as best she can, wincing every so often as she plays a dissonant key. “Like… ‘lover.’ That’s a good one. Nice and simple. Or—” Her eyes light up with mirth as the thought pops into her head. “Courtesan to the queen. Not as simple, but it certainly rolls off the tongue.”

Harry quirks a brow at the suggestion. “And you’ll be the queen in question, I presume?”

“Of course. Do you have a better idea?”

“‘Paramour’ is a neat little name, don’t you think?” Harry asks, his fingers pressing down a simple perfect fourth on the piano to punctuate his question. “Sounds pretty elegant. Understated.”

“If you want understated…” Y/N matches the top note of Harry’s interval, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to match the actual notes without hurting both of their ears. “We could do what historians do when talking about ancient queer couples. Say we’re just good friends.”

The creature hums in acknowledgment at the back of his throat. “We could, yeah. Or we could be mistresses. Is there a word for a male mistress?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as his lips pull into a quizzical frown. “A master?”

“Jesus Christ, never refer to yourself as a master again.” Y/N groans loudly, her fingers slipping from the keys as she feigns a shudder. “That just sounds creepy. Even creepier than a special friend. How about…” She tries her best to stifle a wry grin as a more vulgar alternative pops into her head. “The Whore of Babylon?”

“Fuck’s sake, what did I say about slut-shaming me?”

“I just thought it’d fit! It has a nice ring to it! But if it really irks you that much— Oh, wait—” She quirks her head to the side, a new wave of amusement lighting up her eyes as she thinks of her next step in their game. “What about ‘special advisor’? You know, like we’re in a historical drama, and I have a kingdom to defend from oncoming war, and you’re my most trusted advisor, and when my husband is away with the army, you and I sneak off into my chambers…”

Although he giggles boyishly at the suggestion, Harry can’t ignore the twinge of jealousy that shoots up his spine at the mention of Y/N’s— albeit imaginary— husband. He doesn’t like being referred to as her side relationship, even in an imaginary world of queens and wars. Even then, he wants to be Y/N’s first choice.

Because she’s his, he realizes, his fingers continuing to pluck out single ivory notes as a way to deal with the impending ball of tension that’s growing inside his abdomen. Even in a game, in an imaginary world, in any way imaginable— Y/N is his first choice.

He just— he wants her, in every sense of the word. And he knows all the reasons he shouldn’t— he knows how reckless it is to allow a human to get so close to him, how he’ll never truly be able to be honest with her, how he’ll always be using her for her blood, how he can’t give her the human relationship she deserves. But he can’t stop from thinking about Robert and Clara, who fought for each other from the very beginning, who persevered through every challenge thrown their way, and who still only got sixteen years together before circumstance tore them apart.

Harry is here. He is— for all intents and purposes— theoretically alive. And the girl he wants more than anyone else is right next to him. There’s no doubt in his mind that it’ll be difficult, but does he not owe it to those who ran out of time to try? At the very least? Does he not owe it to himself to fight for the happiness he’s spent so long evading, all out of fear?

He can manage that. He can manage his cravings around Y/N enough to take only what he needs, and never anything more. He can manage his double life and keep her from falling victim to the darkest corners of his mind. He can manage his strength enough to treat her as delicately as he’d treat a butterfly. He can manage the most monstrous parts of himself. He can do that for Y/N.

But only if she wants him to.

It’s that hesitation that brings a tremor to his hands as they pause over the keys, poised over the lacquered surface that he can barely tear his gaze from. “A special advisor sounds fun, yeah. Or you could…” Harry clears his throat roughly, sweat pooling across his brow as he fiddles with the opal ring on his pinky. He twists it back and forth around the digits, only managing to spare one look from the corner of his eye at Y/N’s quizzical face before dropping his stare back down to the piano.

“Or you could, um… you could just… call me your…” Say it, the voice in his head practically yells. It’s just one word. It’s not that hard. “Boyfriend. You could just call me your boyfriend.”

A heavy pause fills the air in the large room, and Harry feels like he’s being suffocated. His voice grows fainter when he detects the sudden hitch in Y/N’s breath, but nothing else. He finds himself wanting to fill the empty space between them with something, or else he might pass out from the nerves. “If you… If you want, that is. It would just keep it simple. Plain and simple.”

Plain and simple, Y/N thinks as her hands curl together in her lap, slotting between her thighs as if the pressure of her clamped legs can keep her from feeling how they shake. It would keep it plain and simple.

But when has their relationship ever been simple?

It should’ve been simple, and the mortal girl knows this. Two consenting adults, calling each other every once in a while for a bit of release— that’s simple. That kind of relationship doesn’t have any pressure. There’s no need to try and impress one another, or to meet any expectations. That kind of relationship is no muss, no fuss, and no strings attached. That was how they had started, and it had been simple. It had been easy. It had been uncomplicated.

And it also hadn’t been that way for a long time.

Y/N’s known for a while now that the line between two friends having sex and being in a committed relationship has become increasingly blurred; that was all but confirmed when Harry nearly pitched a hissy fit when he saw her coming home from her date with Jacob. But even with all of the dates, the gifts, the phone calls during her lunch breaks, the homemade dinners and drinks and desserts, even with all of that— Y/N never thought that they’d actually arrive at this moment. This moment, in Harry’s apartment, their bodies pressed together on the small piano bench, his fingers fidgeting nervously as hers are pressed between her thighs, with the word boyfriend dangling over their heads like a sword.

She can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about it, because she has. And she can’t pretend that her thinking about it doesn’t usually lead to her daydreaming about it, because it does. It’s why she spends the majority of her downtime wrapped in Harry’s rainbow cardigan, and why she’d picked out his button down shirt to wear tonight. It’s why she’s talked about him to her friends, why she’s begun to speak about him casually to her coworkers, instead of hiding in the storage closet when he calls her on her break. Because even though they aren’t together— even though they’re friends in the least and seeing each other at the most— it had been nice to pretend that either of them were capable of being more.

Y/N is no stranger to heartbreak, and she’s spent long enough studying her own commitment issues to be able to recognize them in someone else. Harry had pretty much told her in the beginning that relationships weren’t his thing, that he didn’t want to be defined by a label that could so easily be broken. And Y/N, who hadn’t opened herself up since Bradley, had been inclined to agree. Relationships are messy, and labels only bring expectations that would eventually not be met. Seeing each other is easy. Seeing each other is breezy. Seeing each other leaves room for interpretation, for allowances, for excuses to be made if one of them suddenly changes their mind. Seeing each other is plain and simple.

Boyfriend.

The truth of the matter is that Y/N shouldn’t be so terrified of such a simple word. In all forms and fashion, Harry practically already is her boyfriend— he literally calls her his girl during sex, for fuck’s sake. They do everything that a normal couple does, and have been doing it for a while now. She’s fairly certain that calling Harry her boyfriend instead of the guy she’s seeing wouldn’t actually change their relationship that much. But if she’s honest with herself, Y/N knows that it isn’t their present day situation that’s sending a cold sweat down her back. Boyfriends, from her limited experience, lead to fiancés, which lead to husbands, which lead to children and a white picket fence in an unassuming suburb. That was the exact life she’d come to L.A. to escape— how could she willingly fall back into it?

And then she hears Harry exhale shakily, his thumb fumbling with the opal ring on his pinky, and she knows exactly how she could willingly fall back into it.

This is Harry. Harry, who tells her the stupidest jokes that can somehow still make her laugh. Harry, who gives her all of his attention every moment that they’re together. Harry, who listens to every story about rude customers without complaining once, hanging onto her every word as if what she says matters more than life itself. Harry, who makes her believe that it does. Harry, with entrancing emerald eyes, shining chestnut curls, intricately inked skin, and the most comforting arms she’s ever been held in. This is Harry. Not Bradley. Bradley wanted the wife, the white picket fence, the house filled with children. Harry— as far as she can tell— just wants her. And she just wants him.

Plain and simple.

Y/N extracts one of her hands from between her legs, snaking it over Harry’s, where she captures one of his fiddling hands in her grasp. Intertwining their fingers, Y/N fixes her gaze onto his opal ring as she hesitantly swipes her thumb over his cool knuckles.

“Yeah,” She whispers the word, as if speaking any louder could break whatever it is that’s brewing between them. “Yeah, that could work. I’d really like that.”

The human girl watches from the corner of her eye as Harry’s lips, which he’d been gnawing on nervously while waiting for her response, slowly curl into a hesitant grin, as if he’s nervous to show how anxiously he’d been waiting for her to answer. He keeps his sea glass eyes glued to their tangled hands, his own fingers contracting to test their grasp.

Harry knows that it’s selfish of him to be so happy that the girl he cares for is entering into a relationship with a monster. But seeing as how he’s the monster in question, he can’t make himself feel guilty for it. All he feels is the elation that’s slowly spreading through his entire body, and the determination that’s chasing it. He can do this. He’s strong enough. He can be strong enough for her.

“Can I…” His voice is just as quiet as hers, nearly cracking at the end when he finally lifts his gaze to her heated cheeks, wide eyes, and stained lips. “Can I kiss you?”

A tender laugh falls from those stained lips as Y/N combs his curls back over his ear, dragging her thumb over the sharp lines of his jaw. “You do that all the time, so the answer is obviously yes, isn’t it?” She thumbs down the muscles in his neck, until her palm settles over the collar of his shirt to fist the fabric between her grip. “You don’t even need to ask anymore.”

“It never hurts to ask. And this time…” Harry worries his bottom lip back between his teeth before he soothes the bite mark with his tongue. “It’s different. We’re different.”

“Not too different.” Y/N leans forward until their noses nudge against each other, their mouths kept apart only by an inch. She cards her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, twisting the locks around her digits in a way that’s so much softer than Harry thought possible. “Still us, yeah?”

The taste of honey and lavender is so thick on the back of Harry’s tongue that he’s almost choking on it, but he’s never felt less thirsty in his life. He has this under control. He can tame this. He can.

“Yeah.” He inhales deeply through his mouth, as if he were relishing the bouquet without tasting the wine, and slots their lips together with ease.

Although they’ve shared countless kisses over their months together, this might win the record for the gentlest that they’ve ever shared. There’s no rush, no animalistic need to pull Y/N closer and tighter against his body. There’s only her burning warmth, her silky skin, and her sugar and flower flavour washing out the black tea that had been lingering on his taste buds. Harry has never felt closer to being human again than he has in this moment. Right now, they’re not a predator and his prey; they’re simply two people who, against all odds, have managed to find each other. And Harry is owed this happiness. He knows he is.

The rest of the night passes in a blissful haze of comfortable domesticity. They eat dessert on Harry’s couch, feeding each other bites of raspberry sorbet in between giggles and banter. It’s something they’ve done countless times before, but there’s something different about it now; maybe it’s the fact that Harry knows that Y/N isn’t going to push him away now. She wants him. She wants him. She’s leaning into his touch every time he brushes his knuckles over her cheek, laughing at his poorly-timed jokes, gazing at him through her lashes in a way that stirs desire in the very pit of his belly. They’re comfortable together, and for the first time, Harry is realizing just how wonderful that is.

It’s the only thing on his mind as they stand side by side in front of his double vanity in his en suite, his gaze tilted to the side to watch as Y/N removes her makeup with some wipes she’d packed in her overnight bag (Harry makes a mental note on the brand so that he can pick them up the next time he finds himself near the drug store). He’s never had such casual comfort and ease with someone like this before; the last time he’d found himself in a relationship, it had been in a time where maids were required to help lace and unlace corsets and valets prepared him for bed. There was never a chance to watch as someone he cares for ties their hair back in a loose ponytail before rubbing cleanser into their skin. He never got to observe the quiet, intimate moments of someone’s bedtime routine. In the early days of their relationship, Y/N had never had a chance to properly take her makeup off before Harry was tugging her into bed, her lipstick smeared across his face as much as hers. This is his first time really witnessing that transition, and he likes it more than he thought he would.

There are, however, a few things that he knows Y/N likes before bed, and he gives her a moment of privacy to change into her pyjamas while he makes the quick trip to his kitchen to fill a tall glass with cold water. He doesn’t need to grab an extra blanket this time— he’d already made sure to toss the knit afghan onto his bed before Y/N arrived, and he finds it draped over her body when he returns to his bedroom.

“You look cozy.” He comments with a fond smile, handing the mortal girl the glass of water as he pulls back the other half of the blankets. He climbs underneath the covers, propping his elbow up on his pillow as he lies on his side to watch as she takes a sip of the drink. “Y’alright, love? Need anything else?”

Y/N shakes her head as she sets the glass down on the bedside table and settles back into her pillows, stifling a yawn into the back of her hand. She always gets sleepy after she has a few drinks, something she’d explained to Harry— much to his amusement— a few weeks prior, after a movie night at her house when he’d made his famous margaritas. They’d been having a Harry Potter marathon, and they’d barely begun the second before her eyes had started to flutter closed.

“I’m good, I think.” She tugs the blankets up to her chin, tilting her head to the side to find Harry already staring at her with a soft expression. “Actually…” Extending a hand to him, she lifts her covers off her body enough to indicate what she wants. “C’mere.”

A boyish giggle falls from the vampire’s strawberry lips, and he flicks off the lamp before crawling towards Y/N in the enveloping darkness. He folds himself right into her side, opening his own arms for her to slide into, but is surprised when her hand finds his shoulder and tugs him closer to her.

Harry takes the hint and hesitantly settles himself onto her own body, allowing the mortal girl to rest his head along her collarbones, his ear finding a home just above her beating pulse. One of her hands knots itself in his hair, delicately detangling his messy curls as the other finds a home on his naked shoulder blade, rubbing over his defined muscles with the hottest touch Harry has ever felt.

It’s a vulnerable position, one that Harry hasn’t been in for decades. And yet, instead of feeling the usual mix of fear and trepidation, all Harry can feel is comfort. The combined sensation of Y/N playing with his hair and massaging his shoulder is more pleasurable than he ever could’ve assumed. A month ago, that would have confused him. But now… he exhales softly as Y/N’s nails lightly scratch along his scalp. He can be vulnerable with her. He trusts her. And, to his extreme luck, she seems to trust him.

A few minutes pass with nothing said between the pair, the silence around them punctuated with only the sound of their breathing and Y/N’s lone heartbeat. If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think that Y/N had fallen asleep, but his sharp senses know that’s not true; her pulse is still a few beats faster than it normally is, and her breathing hasn’t completely evened out yet.

Sure enough, Harry’s suspicions are confirmed when Y/N whispers into the darkness a moment later, as if she could hear him mentally assessing her body language. “Harry?” Her voice is gentle, halfway between a whisper and a murmur, as if she’s afraid to be any louder. “Are you awake?”

Harry bites back the smirk that threatens to overtake his lips. “Mhmm.” He hums, nuzzling his head further into Y/N’s caring touch. “Still awake.”

She matches his hum of acknowledgement, the pads of her fingers pressing deeper into the knots of his back. “I was wondering…” Her voice thickens with hesitation. “Would you, um, would you sing for me?”

Without completely lifting himself from her chest, Harry raises his eyes to meet her own, her fingers pausing their motions through his locks as he does so. “Sing?” He asks, taken off guard by the out-of-the-blue request. “Y’want me to sing?”

Although there’s a shadow of shyness across her face, Y/N nods slowly. “I heard you humming earlier today, while you were cooking, and it sounded nice, so I was just thinking about it…” She clears her throat nervously, and Harry can hear the wave of blood that rises to her cheeks. “But you don’t have to. I know it’s late—”

“No, petal.” Harry hurries to ease her, a frown settling onto his face as he hears her breathing grow shallower with anxiety. “S’fine. No need to get shy.” Harry is amazed at how smoothly the reassurance falls from his lips. “Yeah, I’ll sing for you. Any requests?”

Despite him telling her not to be shy, Y/N just shrugs her shoulders in response to his question, her eyes locked on the ceiling above them as if she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Harry plants a kiss along her clavicle before settling back into her plush chest, mentally running through the catalogue of songs he’d been humming earlier. He should pick something soft, he thinks. Something like a lullaby.

Y/N resumes her gentle combing through Harry’s locks, mostly to distract herself from his thoughtful silence. She shouldn’t have asked him to sing something— he’d made it clear earlier that playing the piano for people was something that made him nervous. They’d sung together playfully multiple times, and Y/N could tell that Harry has a pretty voice, but half-singing, half-rapping along to the Hamilton soundtrack is so different than singing to her in the darkness of his bedroom. She shouldn’t have asked. In fact, she should tell him to just forget it, and—

“I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt.” Harry’s low vibrato echoes around the previously silent room, his voice no louder than a murmur. Y/N can feel the vibrations of his vocal chords against her chest, a quiet hum that soothes her like nothing else ever has. “Why were you digging? What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the Earth?”

Harry clears his throat quietly between the stanzas, his own eyes drifting close. He’s never been one for stage fright— he’s always been eager to show off his vocal skills, and there’d been a time when all he wanted was to sing on stage in a smoky speakeasy. But this— singing in the quiet of his bedroom for an audience of one— is more intimate than he’s used to, and he knows if he catches Y/N’s observant gaze right now, he’ll lose his nerve.

“I will not ask you where you came from; I will not ask and neither should you.” Harry tunes his ear to the steady pulse of Y/N’s heart, using the rhythm as a makeshift metronome to keep his time. To keep himself steady. “Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips; we should just kiss like real people do.”

Harry feels a spike of warmth against the top of his head, and it takes him a moment longer than normal to realize that it’s Y/N’s lips pressing against his hair. As he continues to sing, she times her caresses of his ringlets with the beat of his words, which he keeps timed with the beat of her heart. They’re in a cycle, he realizes as he quietly sings the second verse into her skin. She’s lined up with him as he lines up with her. They’re locked together, steadying the other while relying on them to keep them steady in return. For the first time in two hundred years, Harry feels truly in sync with someone.

“Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,” Y/N’s mouth smudges against his temple once more as he nudges his nose along the base of her throat, allowing himself to press his own lips against the satin skin of her chest, just over her heart. He feels like he could stay in this moment forever, which means something given that he truly does have forever. He’d spend every second of the rest of eternity frozen in this instant, if the world allowed it. He’s content, and relaxed, and cradled in his duvet with the one other soul who has somehow managed to thaw the coldness from his stony heart. For the first time in too long, he feels like an actual person again. He isn’t bogged down by his carnal instincts, or by the fear of losing his composure, or by the fact that he doesn’t have a thumping rhythm behind his ribs.

He doesn’t need all of that because he has Y/N, and she makes him feel more real than all of those aspects ever could.

“We could just kiss like real people do.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #vampire!harry styles #vampire au #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles au #writing #ysijwa

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starryhyuck · 4 years

Text

monetary value. (m) | richkid!mark

pairing: richkid!mark x richkid!reader

words: 8k+

summary: falling in love with mark lee is not as easy as it seems. especially when you’re both engaged to other people.

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: dom!mark, sub!reader, creampie, kind of infidelity, little exhibitionism, office sex, riding, unprotected sex, overstimulation

thank you for 1400 followers!!

you fall in love with mark lee in the summer of 2018.

it’s short but blissful — filled with longing gazes, soft whispers and the crisp trepidation that it would all be taken away from you someday.

and it was. you watch as mark loops his arm around mina’s waist, smiling for the cameras as the flashes drown their figures. you throw back your glass of champagne and you feel someone grasp your arm.

your brother, jaehyun, is giving you a warning look. “don’t cause a scene,” he hisses down at you. you roll your eyes at him.

it wasn’t your choice to separate and it wasn’t mark’s either. you two had obligations that you needed to return to — mark’s being mina and yours being yukhei. you’ve both been engaged for several years in order to bring your respective companies success, and falling in love with someone else was never in the cards for you.

yukhei was a lovely, gentle soul, but he wasn’t what you wanted. you wanted it to be that summer all the time. you wanted to feel mark’s hand grip yours at the local cafe. you wanted him to greedily kiss you on the sand while the waves crash against the shore. you wanted his fingers to brush away strands of your hair while he gently makes love to you underneath the moonlight.

you and mark ended things once summer was over. you both knew you couldn’t carry on with what you were doing after being betrothed to other people. you returned to yukhei with a heavy heart, and your fiancé remained oblivious, simply overjoyed to have you back home with him.

jaehyun is the one of the only people who knows of the affair. you tell your brother everything as you know you can trust him wholeheartedly. he also keeps you firm and grounded, reminding you of your place in this socialite world.

“i’m not causing a scene,” you reply to your brother. he gives you a hasty look.

you spot yukhei walking over and jaehyun disappears, leaving you with your fiancé. yukhei has his signature smile painted on his lips, coming to your side and offering you another glass of champagne.

“this place is nice, isn’t it? i was surprised at first when chenle decided to buy it, but now i can see why,” he murmurs to you.

your eyes roam around the expansive building, topped with a golden chandelier and dozens of socialites roaming about, sipping champagne and speaking frivolously to one another. zhong chenle, a close friend of yukhei, bought the building a couple of years ago and today was the grand opening of the new remodel. yukhei was more than excited this morning to attend, having been stuck at his father’s office for the past month working on the merger with your family.

“it’s very pretty,” you remark, your eyes once again finding mark’s figure. he speaks to na jaemin with a wide smile, his arm still snug around mina’s waist.

yukhei hums next to you. “chenle wanted to have dinner with us tomorrow night. i think jisung might tag along too. what do you think?”

you offer your best smile to him. “sounds great, yukhei.”

he beams back at you. you wish you could love yukhei as much as he clearly loves you. but no, your heart still lays with the man across the room.

“i’m going to go to the restroom,” you announce, handing him your champagne glass. he nods and after you step away, you hear kunhang approach him and ask him about how things are going at the company.

you need to breathe. you’re not trying to cause a scene of any kind like jaehyun thinks you are, but you need to be more loving and faithful to yukhei so that everyone is convinced by this sham of a marriage. mark plays his part well, and you need to do the same.

you’re staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror when mina walks in, pausing at the sight of you. you know that mina knows what happened between you and mark that summer, considering mark couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

she doesn’t say a word when she stands next to you, fixing her hair in the mirror. your fingers grip the sink as the silence passes, tension filling the air.

“i’m sorry.”

you refuse to look at her as she makes her apology.

“you have nothing to apologize for,” you mutter back to her. she shakes her head.

“i do. i wish things were different, i really do.”

you can hear the sympathy in her voice, but you don’t want any part of it. you’re grateful that mina understands in some way instead of revealing your secrets to yukhei, but the emotion is overpowered by the feeling of jealousy that mina gets to be the one to go home with mark at the end of the day.

you exit the bathroom with a heavy heart, trying to find yukhei in the midst of the crowd. you’re stopped by naeun, who smiles gently at you and pulls you to the side.

“are you alright?”

naeun has been engaged to your brother since she was seven, but the only difference between their relationship and yours was that naeun and jaehyun actually loved each other. naeun acted as a sibling to you, and you didn’t mind jaehyun telling her your secrets from time to time because she was so understanding. she was constantly checking up on you to make sure you and yukhei were doing alright. most of the time, yukhei was but you were not.

“i’m doing fine, naeun.”

she frowns at your lie. her eyes flit over to where mark is standing, mina rejoining his side.

“he doesn’t love her.”

you shake your head. “it doesn’t matter.”

you find yukhei next to xiaojun and give him a soft kiss on the cheek, causing his whole face to light up at your affection.

this is where you belong. you simply can’t afford to think otherwise.

—

“i was thinking we could go to paris for your birthday. i know a few friends who live there.”

you smile at yukhei, who is eagerly leaning across the kitchen counter to speak to you. he looks like a kid on christmas day as he talks about your birthday plans.

you honestly didn’t want to do anything lavish this year. usually, your parents pay for some expensive trip as compensation for not giving a fuck about you. since you’re living on your own with yukhei now, they don’t really feel guilty anymore when they forget about you.

you’ve liked your past birthdays, most of them being spent in spain or italy. your favorite birthday was in athens, where jaehyun had first introduced you to mark.

you shake the thought out of your head to respond to yukhei.

“xuxi, i don’t really want to go anywhere this year. staying at home would be nice.”

he frowns. “that’s not fun! come on, this is the perfect time to take a vacation. we can go anywhere you’d like.”

you finish up the remains of your lunch and put the dishes in the sink. yukhei is adamant on following you out of the kitchen and into the living room. you lean down to pick up your laptop sitting on the couch but he stops you.

he has a serious gaze planted on his face and he sighs.

“i know you don’t really want to be married to me,” he whispers.

you avoid his stare. “what are you talking about?”

“i can see right through you, y/n. i’ve known you long enough.” he pauses, his fingers running over your hand gently. you still refuse to look at him, knowing you’ll only see the desperation in his eyes. “just give me a chance? i don’t want you to be stuck with me if you’re going to be unhappy.”

“i’m not unhappy, xuxi.”

“you are. i know you are.”

you exhale and he takes a step back from you so you can breathe.

“just let me throw you this party, okay? i promise it’ll be fun.”

and you feel bad. you feel awful because yukhei’s known this whole time that you’ve never loved him.

“okay.”

two weeks later, you find yourself in the heart of paris. yukhei made all of the arrangements fairly quickly, the both of you rooming in an apartment next to his friends, ten and yangyang. you know absolutely nothing about your party, and yukhei intends on keeping it that way.

he’s been doting on you since the plane landed in france, taking you to all of these art galleries and finding multiple bakeries to soothe your sweet tooth. you can tell yukhei is trying his hardest to change your mind, but everywhere you go, you see mark.

you see him as lovers pass by you, holding hands and smiling at one another affectionately. you see him as you gaze up at the eiffel tower, the lights shining down on your figure. you even see him when you look at yukhei, wishing mark was beside you instead.

you think back to that summer in greece when you first fell in love with him.

“you’re a little clumsy for a billionaire’s son, aren’t you?”

mark rolls his eyes at your teasing and you giggle. his cheeks redden as the both of you lean down to wipe up the coffee mark spilled all over the floor.

mark left the balcony door open so the breeze could flow inside but when a gust of wind throttled him, he spilled his morning coffee everywhere. he was such a klutz, yet you could never stay mad at him for long.

“the wind is really strong today, okay?”

you laugh again, throwing the soggy paper towels in the trash. you stand up and kiss him gently.

“you’re so silly.”

he grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “but you love me anyway.”

you chuckle. “i guess i do.”

“so what do you think?”

you’re taken out of your daydream by the sound of yukhei’s voice. the both of you are sitting outside of a cafe, enjoying the gentle breeze of paris.

“sorry, what did you say?”

yukhei laughs softly at you. “about dropping by ten’s art gallery tonight? he’s been working really hard on his latest collection.”

“oh,” you murmur, breaking off a piece of the croissant yukhei bought you. “yeah, that sounds nice.”

he nods at your answer and takes a sip of his cappuccino. the two of you eat and drink in silence and although you find it comforting, you can tell his mind is swirling. he’s clearly troubled by your indifference to him. you’ve tried to make it better over the past few days, holding his hand and giving him kisses on the cheek here and there. he knows, however, that you don’t really mean it.

later that night, you slip on your favorite red dress from versace and pair it with some black louboutins. yukhei waits for you by the door, beaming when you approach him.

“you look beautiful,” he comments, sliding your jacket over your shoulders.

“thanks, xuxi.”

the car ride to the gallery is spent in silence, and you realize most of your interactions with yukhei consist of this now. you hate it because you and yukhei used to talk so freely, but you can tell he considers this trip to be a turning point in your relationship.

when you arrive at the venue, yukhei quickly jogs over to open your door for you, and you smile as you take his hand and step out of the car. you thank the driver and loop your arm through yukhei’s, walking slowly up the steps to the gallery.

“have fun tonight,” he murmurs to you. you furrow your eyebrows at his odd statement, but it all comes clear to you once yukhei swings open the door.

you’re drowned in a chorus of surprise! and you’re in shock by the sight before you. all of the people who run within your circle are gathered in this small art gallery, huddled together as streamers fall down from the ceiling.

naeun and jaehyun approach you first, both of them offering a hug.

“happy birthday!”

even though your birthday wasn’t for another two days, you figure this was part of the illusion of yukhei’s surprise.

“how did you guys get here?” you ask, still a little frazzled by everyone’s appearance.

naeun giggles at you. “xuxi arranged everything!”

“yeah, isn’t that nice of him?” jaehyun questions. you know what he’s implying, but you ignore it.

more of your friends envelop you into their arms, giving you happy birthday greetings or complimenting your appearance. you smile at all of them, accepting their kind words as you try to get through everybody. you feel a little overwhelmed by the attention but you do your best to thank everyone for coming.

it probably wasn’t a hassle for most of them to fly to paris on such short notice, given most of your friends like taking spontaneous trips anyway. you’re pretty sure yuta was just in new york yesterday with sicheng.

you lose yukhei again in the crowd, rina pulling you aside and asking how your romantic getaway with yukhei has been. all of your friends seem to buy into your blossoming relationship, and they have no reason not to.

“everything’s going great, rina,” you smile tightly.

she grins and clutches your arm. “it’s so sweet how he did all of this for you! i would die if i was in your place.”

you nod and laugh, ignoring the guilt pooling in your stomach. you know that no matter how nice yukhei treats you and how hard he tries to be the man you want, you can never love him the way he wants to be loved. you can never have what your brother and naeun have.

rina leaves you to get a glass of champagne and that’s when you hear him.

“happy birthday.”

your back stiffens. you can identify that voice anywhere. it’s the same voice that used to sing you to bed, strumming his guitar gently as his gentle hums lull you to slumber. it’s the same voice that asked you if you would wait for him when the seasons changed. it’s the same voice who whispered sweet nothings to you during those late nights when it was only you and him.

you turn around to look at him. mina’s right by his side, looking a little uncomfortable by the interaction.

he looks as handsome as ever — wearing a suit from armani’s latest collection. your eyes focus on the cufflinks he’s wearing, the same pair you bought him for his birthday two years ago.

his gaze is heavy and you feel trapped underneath it. was it possible for him to be your biggest daydream and your greatest nightmare all at once?

“thank you,” you clear your throat. “i’m glad you both could make it.”

you fail to decipher the look in his eyes. you feel as if time has stopped, and there’s no one else in the room except you and him. mina averts her gaze, feeling as if this is too intimate for her to see.

mark whispers delicately to you, but you swear that he’s screaming.

“we wouldn’t miss it.”

—

it’s two hours later when you feel completely exhausted, walking outside to catch some fresh air. you’ve talked to yukhei only once since the party’s started. he’s been distracted by ten and yangyang, all three of them laughing and catching up with one another. you have no problems with this considering it’s the happiest you’ve seen yukhei in weeks.

you settle down on the outdoor steps, sighing softly and gazing at the night sky.

you hear the door open but you figure it’s just doyoung leaving early. he usually has morning meetings but he always makes sure to attend these gatherings for his friends.

you’re surprised when you catch mark in the corner of your eye, taking a seat beside you. you freeze, not really sure exactly what he’s doing.

“we could’ve made it work.”

you pause for a few seconds before responding.

“no, we couldn’t have.”

he chuckles and shakes his head, staring down at the concrete steps. you bring your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them.

to have mark this close to you after so long — it felt both terrifying and freeing at the same time.

“we should’ve left,” he whispers. you hear the crack in his voice and you shut your eyes. “that night in plaka. we should’ve run away. you’re not supposed to be with him and i’m not supposed to be with her.”

“you’re wrong,” you murmur, feeling choked up already. “we were always meant to be with them. xuxi would’ve searched for me if i had left-“

“bullshit,” mark hisses, turning to face you now. you keep your eyes closed but you can feel his stare burning through the side of your head. “look at what yukhei’s done just to make you happy. you honestly think he wouldn’t let you go if he knew it’s what you wanted?”

you can feel a tear slip out and you sniffle, wiping it away frantically with the back of your hand. mark’s heart breaks at the sight of you crying.

“i don’t want to argue with you,” you whisper breathily. “what’s done is done. you get married to mina and i get married to yukhei. that’s how it was always supposed to go.”

you think mark will leave then, but he stays by your side, eyes staring up at the moon. you can hear the tremble in his voice the next time he speaks.

“i fucking miss you. i miss you so fucking much, you don’t even understand,” he says, hands balling up into fists. “i wish we could go back. remember that night we met in athens? you looked straight out of heaven, i swear. i knew i wanted you then. just like how i want you now.”

“stop,” you mutter. “stop saying those things.”

“why? it’s the truth,” he scoffs.

you feel a burst of anger flare in your chest. your eyes flutter open and you glare at him.

“you think i don’t miss you either? you think that that summer meant nothing to me? fuck, mark, i think about you all the goddamn time. i think about you when i’m supposed to be thinking about yukhei. when i’m supposed to be marrying him, not you.”

the door swings open again and you both turn to see who it is. yukhei walks out, his face confused by the sight of your teary eyes. he rushes over, leaning down and checking on you.

“hey, you okay? what happened?”

“nothing,” you smile at him, giggling a little to reassure him. “i just drank too much champagne. mark was out here comforting me.”

mark looks frustrated by your words, and he’s clearly not liking the fact that yukhei’s trying to take care of you. his hands are still balled into fists as he stands up. he puts on his best grin for yukhei to see.

“just wanted to make sure the birthday girl has a good time,” he assures. you watch as he walks back into the building, his figure disappearing into the sea of bodies.

“you sure you’re okay?” yukhei murmurs, checking you over again. he’s never really seen you cry and he’s honestly panicking a little on the inside.

you put on your best smile once again.

“i’m fine.”

—

“mark, this is my sister, y/n. y/n, this is mark.”

you smile at the man jaehyun has presented before you. you’re a little tipsy and you quickly adjust the birthday girl tiara that’s threatening to fall off your head. jaehyun laughs at your ridiculousness.

“nice to meet you, mark lee. my brother talks so fondly of his soulmate.”

mark chuckles out of embarrassment, the tips of his ears growing red. “ah, jaehyun just jokes about that.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes. “don’t act like we weren’t meant to be, mark.”

mark’s cheeks grow redder if it was even humanly possible. you giggle at his cute nature. jaehyun is soon whisked away by johnny, who is asking your brother to play beer pong with him. you snicker at their antics.

you’re left alone with mark, and to be perfectly honest, he’s a little awkward. a little too awkward to be a big shot ceo.

“aren’t you supposed to be the heir of lee enterprises?” you shout over the blaring music. it’s only fitting that jaehyun chose a raging club in athens as the venue for your party this year. you were genuinely having a good time, especially because you didn’t have to worry about pretending to be in love with yukhei — he couldn’t join the trip since he needed to step up to his duties at the company.

mark laughs at your question. “that’s my brother, taeyong! i’m just the stand-in second child.”

you smile at his joke. “same here! i’m the disappointment, jaehyun’s the looker!”

you both chuckle and you take a step forward, ignoring the way mark’s breath gets caught in his throat at your action. you lean up to whisper in his ear.

“wanna get out of here?”

you toss and turn in bed, struggling to fall asleep. yukhei grumbles next to you, having fallen asleep over a hour ago. you sigh and get up as quietly as possible, trying your best not to wake your fiancé. you succeed as yukhei doesn’t move an inch, still as a rock while he dozes on.

you move to the balcony connected to your bedroom, shutting the door quietly and taking a seat on one of the lounge chairs. it’s a little cold and you wrap your blanket tighter around yourself.

the party ended without a hitch tonight, most of your friends still laughing and drinking together when you and yukhei left. he was worried about you after he caught you outside with mark, but after repeatedly reassuring him that you were okay, he let it go.

you didn’t see mark after your conversation, and you assume he left quickly with mina to avoid doing something he would regret. you think about his words as you stare down at the small streets of paris. you can still hear people chattering even though it’s already 4am, most of them drunk and stumbling on their way back home.

your mind travels to the last night you spent with mark during that summer. he was begging you to leave with him, practically on his knees to try and convince you.

“just come with me. we can start a different life. we don’t have any ties to hold us down! jaehyun and taeyong will both take over our companies, they don’t need us to be there!”

you shake your head at his ludicrous idea. “are you insane? did you forget about mina? about yukhei? they’re both waiting for us to come home, mark.”

“i am home,” he says strictly, walking over to you and gently stroking your cheek. “i’m right here with you, and that’s the only place i need to be. we don’t need to do this to ourselves, baby. we don’t need to separate. let’s get on the next flight to wherever and start a new life.”

you push him away and sigh. “we can’t. i can’t do that to him.”

“do you love him?”

you narrow your eyes. “no, and you know very well that i never have. i’m just not going to be some asshole who leaves her fiancé and her family with no explanation whatsoever. we both knew this wasn’t forever, mark.”

he tugs at his hair, clearly frustrated with your stubborn nature.

“so you’re telling me that you’re going to go home and act like everything’s fine? you’re going to walk down the aisle and get married to yukhei and not think of me?”

you turn away from him, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill. realization is hitting you like a truck — this would have to be it. you can’t see mark again. everything that’s happened since the beginning of summer is coming to an end.

“yes, that’s exactly what i’m going to do. i recommend you do the same.”

mark watches your back tremble as you refuse to face him. he exhales, running his hands down his face exasperatedly. minutes pass in complete silence, the only sound being heard are your small sniffles and mark’s occasional sigh.

“i love you,” he whispers. “i love you, and that’s not going to stop. i don’t care if i have to tell yukhei myself, but i’m going to make you realize it.”

the weight of mark’s words still linger in your mind. you ponder over the consequences if you do decide to leave yukhei. honestly, you didn’t want to break his heart. he’s always been so kind to you and understanding, despite your indifference towards him. he’s treated you that way since you two were younger. the only flaw about yukhei is that he loves you.

you wish you had one of those romance stories where you grew up with yukhei and fell in love with him when you both became adults. it would make everything so much easier if that were the case.

on the other hand, you couldn’t embarrass your family. your parents have worked so hard just to build the family business from the ground up. jaehyun’s been trained to step in as ceo since the day he was born, and the merger with naeun and yukhei’s family would bring your company’s profits through the roof. you couldn’t afford to lose yukhei and potentially damage the future of jung corporation.

you can’t decipher if you’re using these reasons as excuses. you’ve always been scared to go against your parents’s wishes. you were so young when they told you that you would be married to yukhei, and you’ve been raised to believe that everything they’re doing for you is for your own good.

maybe you really were a coward. you’re just afraid to fully take the leap with mark — to leave everything behind and be known as a disgrace to the rest of your family. mark was ready to sacrifice everything to be with you, but your cowardice prevented you from doing the same.

the door to the balcony opens and yukhei peers out, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“what are you doing out here?”

“couldn’t sleep.”

he joins you on the balcony, gently shutting the door behind him. he settles on the chair next to you. you both bask in the silence for a while before yukhei speaks up.

“have you been in love with mark for a long time?”

your head darts up, eyes widening at his question. you stare at yukhei but he doesn’t look at you, continuing to peer over the balcony.

“w-what- how did you-“

“you never cry,” he replies. “you only cry when you’re overwhelmed or seriously hurt. i’ve seen you drink at least seven glasses of champagne without ever tearing up. it also wasn’t hard to tell that mark wanted to murder me as soon as i came over to you.”

“yukhei,” you whisper. “i-“

“i know. you don’t need to be sorry. i should’ve known — you were always so dismissive and standoffish whenever we were at a party with the lee’s. you also weren’t the same when you returned from greece.”

you try to digest the fact that not only did yukhei know about you and mark, but he also knew you so well that he could tell something was off about you.

he takes a brief pause before asking his next question. “did you think i would be mad? that i wouldn’t let you be happy?”

you shake your head. “i just- i couldn’t disappoint everybody-“

he throws his head back and releases a throaty laugh.

“y/n, who gives a fuck about what anyone thinks? i’ve watched you be miserable over the past two years because you’re torturing yourself with this idea that you need to please everyone.” he turns to you and takes your hands in his. “i really do love you. more than i’ve ever loved anyone else. so that’s why i’m telling you that you need to find mark and be with him before it’s too late.”

“xuxi, it’s not that easy-“

“but it is!” he exclaims, trying to get you to see the bigger picture. “don’t you understand how easy it is? listen, the merger with your family is already ninety-five percent complete. there’s no way in hell my father is going to back out of this, especially after our stocks rose by a considerable amount last month. we don’t need to be married. our relationship was just the first step for both of our companies.”

your bottom lip trembles while you register all of the information he’s throwing your way. yukhei is telling you that you can be with mark now, you have nothing holding you back. everything would be perfect if you just weren’t so-

“scared,” you mumble. “i’m so scared, xuxi.”

“i know, i know you are,” he says, eyes staring at you in worry. “just talk to him. if he loves you, he’ll listen.”

—

when you come back home, you’re a little out of touch with reality. the first thing yukhei wants you to do is call mark but since you’re still trying to register everything, he lets you be.

he takes the guest room while you try to sort out whatever the fuck is going on in your head. you call naeun in the midst of your imminent breakdown, and she answers immediately.

“why can’t me and yukhei be like you and jaehyun?”

she’s a little startled by your question but she replies anyway.

“because you don’t love yukhei. you love mark.”

and it sounds so idiotic because you already knew this, but hearing someone else say it makes all the lightbulbs click.

“thanks, naeun.”

the first person you want to talk to is mina. you really don’t know mina well, the both of you simply acknowledging each other at parties. her brother, seungyoon, was the head of kang corporation and working on the merger with taeyong.

you’re in your head as you drive over to the kang household, fingers gripping the steering wheel while you try to think of what to say.

mina is surprised when she opens up the door to see your figure behind it. you both awkwardly stare at one another before you clear your throat.

“can we talk?”

she nods, stepping back to let you in. you two rest comfortably on the kang’s living room couch while one of the maids serves some tea for the both of you to drink. mina avoids your gaze but you can tell she is curious about why you’ve decided to visit.

“um,” you start off, trying to find the words to say. “i came over because i wanted to talk to you about mark.”

“oh. well, mark isn’t here,” she replies. “he hasn’t lived with me since he came back from greece.”

“oh,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed. you’re sure that mark’s living situation changed because of you. “i didn’t know that.”

she sighs. “y/n, i wasn’t lying that night when i told you i wished things were different. i don’t love mark and i know for sure he doesn’t love me. you’re all he can think about since that summer, and we only put on a good show for the cameras.”

you exhale. “i’m sorry. we shouldn’t have been so reckless, especially knowing you and yukhei were waiting-“

you’re surprised when mina throws her head back and laughs.

“i don’t care about that.” she comes over and sits next to you, looking into your eyes. “i actually love someone else just as mark loves you. i loathe this marriage as much as you do.”

you widen your eyes. “wait, what? who?”

mina blushes then, averting her gaze from you. she clears her throat.

“do you know the hwang family?”

you choke. “hwang hyunjin?”

her cheeks grow redder as she nods. she stares down at her feet while she speaks to you. “that’s not the point. i’m just saying that if you want to go to mark, by all means, i’m not stopping you. it would make him less grumpy.”

you laugh, feeling as if a big weight has been taken off your shoulders.

“thank you, mina.”

you head to lee enterprises on a mission, wearing mark’s favorite floral dress and the cartier necklace he bought you. you know he’s bound to be in the office right now, especially since taeyong is away in japan for business affairs.

you’re nervous as you can feel the stares of the company workers on you when you walk through the glass doors. you keep your head low and sigh when you get to the elevator, pressing the highest floor before anyone can get in with you.

you go over and over in your head what you plan to say to mark but you know you’re going to forget everything anyways the moment you see him. when the elevator doors open, you scan the area and try to identify where mark’s office is before anyone sees you.

you’re caught when jungwoo lays his eyes on you as he walks by.

“y/n?”

you laugh awkwardly. “uh, hey, jungwoo. do you happen to know where mark’s office is?”

he blinks twice, clearly surprised by your presence.

“yeah, um, his office is in the back. next to taeyong’s.”

“thanks,” you mutter, glancing at him one more time before scurrying away. you’re fully embarrassed now but you can’t afford to go back, not when you’ve made it this far.

you awkwardly enter the waiting room of mark’s office and his secretary, renjun, is shocked to see you.

“oh, hi y/n. did you have an appointment with mark?”

“not really,” you reply. “is he with someone right now?”

“well, no, but-“

“okay, great!” you beam at him, and renjun stutters when you knock on the door to mark’s office.

when you hear him call come in, you take a deep breath before opening the door.

mark is working diligently at his desk, head down as he shuffles through papers. you close the door so that renjun doesn’t hear anything. mark’s yet to look up at you, focused on the task at hand.

“what is it, renjun?”

“i’m a coward, and i’m sorry.”

mark’s head darts up at the sound of your voice, and he swears he’s dreaming.

there’s absolutely no way you’re standing in front of him right now. he stands up, pinching his leg to make sure he’s actually awake. you walk closer to him, trying to gather all of the courage you can muster.

“we should’ve run away together.”

he comes over to you, stumbling a little and almost tripping on one of the chairs, causing you to giggle. he stands in front of you but he’s lost on if he’s allowed to touch you. you smile and decide for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him gently.

mark digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you closer. the kiss quickly turns into something else as mark is greedily trying to get you as close to him as possible.

you pull away, slightly breathless. “don’t you want to know why i’m here?”

“i haven’t had you like this in two years, baby. i don’t really give a fuck about anything else right now.”

you end up pinned underneath him as he lays your body across his desk, desperate to get a feel of you. he stumbles as he quickly tries to find the phone and you watch him click a few buttons before renjun’s voice comes over the speaker.

“yes?”

“cancel everything today. you can go home early, renjun.”

“mark, you have that meeting with-“

he hangs up the phone, returning to pressing kisses against your collarbone. his fingers work on pushing up your dress so he can fully see the lacy underwear you’re wearing.

“mark,” you hiss, trying to get him to slow down so you can actually have a conversation with him. he’s rabid at this point, pulling down the top of your dress and attaching his lips to your mound. “mark, i wanted to let you know that i finally realized how stupid i was during that summer.”

he hums around your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple. you moan and tug at his hair.

“mark, yukhei made me realize something.”

“please don’t talk about yukhei right now,” he murmurs, moving his attention to your other breast. “you’re so pretty, baby. did you wear this dress just for me? you know how much i like it. gives me easy access. remember when i fucked you in that alleyway in plaka?”

and you do remember. you were high on adrenaline that day and mark was absolutely mesmerized by the way your dress would bounce whenever you took a step. he was practically dying to get a taste of you and so you let him pound you ruthlessly in an empty alleyway. it didn’t end there either — he also fingered you in a cafe bathroom and let you ride his cock on the balcony of your shared apartment in athens.

let’s just say mark really liked this dress and you two were also very sexually active that summer.

“missed you, baby,” he murmurs. “haven’t fucked anyone else in two years.”

your eyes widen. “you haven’t fucked anyone in two years?”

he shakes his head. “can’t. only think of you.”

he moves up so that he’s face to face with you again. you rub your thumb over his cheek.

“i’m sorry. i love you. i wish i wasn’t so stupid.”

he laughs. “you’re not stupid. a little out of your mind, maybe.”

you whine when mark plays with the waistband of your underwear.

“aren’t we going a little too fast?”

he chuckles. “this is coming from the girl who rented a whole movie theater just so we could fuck in there all day.”

you narrow your eyes. “touché.”

soon enough, mark’s got your dress and underwear on the floor, his tongue lapping at your folds. you cry out, tugging fistfuls of his hair while he devours your pussy.

mark’s clearly clouded by lust and the office is filled with sounds of him slurping your juices. you try to give mark a warning that your orgasm is approaching fast, but he’s lost in his own world, eyes closed as he eats you out. you soar into your first orgasm and sob, bucking your hips up into mark’s mouth.

he groans when you cum, not stopping his relentless assault on your pussy. you whine from the overstimulation and try to push him away, but mark is persistent, using his hands to pin your thighs down to the table.

you forgot how much mark likes to see you cum. you remember being completely drained that summer in greece after mark pounded into you every night, desperate to see you fall apart over and over again.

you throw your head back when another climax builds just as quickly as the first. he pulls away from you and pushes a finger inside your weeping hole, curling it upwards.

“missed this pussy, baby,” he murmurs. “forgot how wet and tight you are. gonna take my cock later like a good girl?”

“yes, yes,” you chant, moaning when mark adds another finger.

“come on, baby. come on,” he whispers, picking up his pace and inserting a third finger. to throw you over the edge, he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks hard.

you thrash underneath his hold as your orgasm sweeps over your body, heightening your senses and throwing you deep into pleasure. you ride out your high on his fingers and when you whine again from the oversensitivity, mark stands up and unbuckles his belt.

you gasp when he lifts you off from the desk and drags you over to the large, glass windows that cover half of his office. you whimper when he presses you up against the glass.

you’re high enough to where the people walking on the sidewalk can’t see you unless they really looked, but the thrill still pulsates through your veins. you can’t even imagine what you look like — your breasts exposed and your dress bunched up at your waist.

mark’s grunting behind you, slacks around his ankles as he fists at his cock. you whine and arch your back, desperate to feel him fully.

“want me, baby?” he whispers in your ear. you shudder. “tell me how much you missed me.”

“m-missed you s-so much,” you blubber, pressing your hands up against the window. “fuck me mark, please.”

he slowly pushes into you and you cry at the stretch, feeling the burn in your throat. he soothes you through it, rubbing his thumb over your hip when he bottoms out. he gives you time to get adjusted, pressing small kisses against the curve of your spine.

“feel so good, baby. wet and snug around me, you fit like a fucking glove. did yukhei ever fill you this well?”

“i-i never f-fucked yukhei,” you reply.

the answer pleases him and he takes an experimental thrust into you. when you moan at the pleasure, mark turns into someone else.

you try your best to balance yourself on the glass while mark relentlessly pummels into you, pushing you further and further up the window. his hands move to cup your breasts and he licks at your neck, wanting to touch you everywhere.

“a-angel,” he hisses in your ear, the sound of his balls slapping against your clit filling the air. “my perfect little angel. little cock whore, aren’t you?”

you barely register his words and mark growls when he doesn’t receive an answer. his fingers grip your face and he brings you against his chest. you sob when the angle has him hitting you deeper.

“don’t wanna answer? been fucked too dumb to reply, baby? missed my cock, didn’t you?” you quickly nod at his questions, eyes rolling back as he constantly hits your sweet spot. “thought about you all the time. jacked off every single night to the thought of having you like this again. missed you so much.”

“m-missed you too, mark,” you mumble back to him.

his other hand moves down to stimulate your clit and you grip his wrist, your body going into overdrive. you convulse around his cock and you spasm around him, crying and whining while mark holds you firmly.

he moves the two of you so that he’s sitting in his office chair with you on top of him. you wail when he slaps your ass.

“ride me.”

despite your shaky legs, you follow his orders and build a steady pace on top of him. he watches as you swivel your hips and groans at how good you feel around him. you pick up your pace when the pleasure builds up in your tummy again. mark’s fingers dig into your hips as he tries to guide you up and down his cock. you grab his shoulders and move faster, bouncing on top of him.

you practically see white when you cream mark’s cock for the fourth time, wrapping your arms around him when your body goes limp. he gives you a few seconds to recover before thrusting into you.

you whine. “mark, i can’t.”

“don’t lie to me, baby.”

and you remember that mark’s seen you come at least seven times in one night, so he knows no feat is impossible.

he lazily fucks you to another orgasm and you let him use your body until he shoots ribbons of his cum deep inside you, groaning loudly as he empties out. he doesn’t stop until almost a minute later, giving you everything he has.

you can already feel some of his cum start to spill out but you and mark don’t care as you kiss each other gently. mark holds you close, not wanting to part from you any longer.

“what are we gonna do?” you ask him quietly.

“about what?”

you roll your eyes. “about our engagements! and the company’s merger too.”

“i’m sure mina would be more than happy to be engaged to hyunjin, and i can talk about the merger with taeyong. i’ll make it work, baby, don’t worry. how about yukhei?”

“he’s the one who told me to come to you.”

“huh,” mark hums. “maybe he isn’t that bad.”

“he isn’t! you’re just jealous,” you murmur.

“can’t help it. i love the prettiest girl alive.”

“you’re spending too much time with johnny.”

he smiles and kisses you.

“we’re going to be together, baby. i’ll make sure of it.”

—

“merci, bonne journée à toi aussi!”

the young man at the bakery smiles and waves at you as you exit. you carefully place the cake you ordered in the back of your car, making sure it’s safely tucked away before driving off.

you hum lowly to the sound of the music vibrating through the speakers. it isn’t long before you reach your apartment, quickly parking and unloading everything inside.

you get to setting the cake up immediately, lighting the candles and clearing the kitchen counter. you jump a little when you hear the familiar click of the front door.

“y/n?”

“in here!” you call, quickly holding the cake up in your hands as mark walks into the room. “happy birthday!”

he grins at you, laughing as he walks over. you sing a horrible rendition of the birthday song to him but mark loves it anyways, giving you a kiss on the lips before blowing out his candles. you cheer for him and smile, placing the cake safely back down on the counter.

“thank you, baby,” he hums, kissing your temple. “i love it.”

you and mark moved to paris shortly after reuniting. as soon as taeyong returned from his business trip, mark worked day and night to try and get the merger with mina’s family to go through. mina’s father was at first appalled by mark’s decision to leave his daughter but once he learned of mina’s own relationship with hyunjin, he agreed to keeping the merger. knowing the company was in safe hands with taeyong, mark had no qualms about leaving.

yukhei was able to successfully merge his and your family’s company without letting anyone know of your relationship problems. your last conversation with him still leaves your mind dizzy, but you’re grateful to him for everything he’s done for you.

“you don’t deserve this, xuxi. i’m sorry for not being who you wanted me to be.”

yukhei shakes his head, leaning back in the dining room chair. he knows you leave for paris tomorrow to start your new life with mark, and he doesn’t want you to feel guilty about anything.

“you have nothing to be sorry about. i’m just glad you’re finally happy. i’ve never seen you like this before.”

you smile shyly. “yeah, i guess i’m acting a little different now. i hope you could visit us in paris someday.”

he smiles. “count me in. don’t forget to add the wedding invitation.”

jaehyun was a little more reluctant on letting his baby sister run off with one of his friends to a different county. naeun was able to soothe most of his worries and your departure was one of the first times you’ve seen jaehyun cry.

it was also the first time you’ve seen him threaten mark.

now, you and mark live a peaceful life in france. given most of your inheritance was cut in half due to your strike of ‘rebellion against the family,’ mark found a small job producing music at a local recording studio and you took to practicing what little business knowledge you acquired from your parents by investing in some new homes around paris.

you were living the life you always wanted with mark, and you couldn’t be happier.

you’re interrupted from your thoughts by the feeling of mark sliding his hands up your shirt.

“i think i know what i want for my birthday present.”

you laugh and kiss him, letting the birthday boy take you the way he wants.

taglist: @suhweo, @bubudays, @ncteaxhoe, @floweringtheflowers, @keemburley, @en-see-tee, @nctandmatteblackaremyaethstetic, @oreo-cheesycake

#nct smut #nct scenarios #mark lee #mark #mark smut #mark lee smut

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Little Wolf, Pretty Wolf, Your Wolf

; Omega!Jungkook x Alpha!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

; Word Count: 22.3k

; Warnings: Stereotyping, blowjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, knotting, sub!Jungkook, dom!reader, impregnation kink

; Synopsis: An Alpha wolf is supposed to be strong, powerful and bold. A commandeering presence that can rule a pack efficiently. An Omega is supposed to be submissive, quiet and meek. A calming influence and a lucky charm for a pack. But you’re not like a normal Alpha wolf. Just like Jungkook is not a normal Omega wolf.

; A/N: I’m very unsure over this story. We’ve been having troubles but I finally got it finished and out! It’s half proof read...I hope you enjoy. If you do, please reblog and leave me comments, feedback or reviews! Or send in an ask, I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions :)

“Now, what you need to remember is that the Ancient Greek’s weren’t one nation like how we think of them today. They were a collection of city states which were called polis back then. In their times, this was considered a nation on it’s own like the Vatican City or Singapore is today. You might realise that polis is actually still used today in words such as metropolis, which basically means ‘mother city’ as it comes from the Greek word for mother, necropolis which translates to city of the dead basically and so forth.

“The notion of ‘nation’ as we understand it is actually a relatively new concept that has only emerged in the last few centuries so trying to discuss things like a ‘nation’ or a ‘nationality’ is hard. Particularly when we’re talking about ancient civilisations.” You carry on talking, hands gesturing to the interactive whiteboard behind you that currently shows a map of Ancient Greece.

Your students are watching intently, some nodding slightly while a few of them jot down notes in their exercise books or read from their textbook. History was one of those topics that many people found boring but it had always inspired a fire inside you. The desire to learn from the past and incorporate it into the future was strong. Over the course of your own education, you’d also felt it was important to teach and mould the minds of the young with the lessons of the past.

It was why you’d gone into the teaching career, despite the concerns of your parents and everyone around you. Alpha’s like you simply didn’t go into teaching, the aura of power and dominance around them normally too strong for youngsters to cope with.

But you’ve always been a little different to the other Alpha’s you’d known throughout your life. Your wolf was always present and willing to protect when necessary but mostly she was content to lay back and watch the world. While most Alpha wolves were tall and extremely well muscled, a genetic quirk that gave them a visual representation of strength along with the metaphysical one that all wolves could understand, you were of average height and just looked in shape.

Your scent was sweet and pleasant to be around, according to your friends growing up you smelled like the tastiest candy with the slightest hint of rose. That on it’s own was unusual because Alpha’s were supposed to smell like...well an Alpha, power with that hint of earth that reminded everyone of the forest. Instead, you just smelled like a candy shop.

While great for the Delta’s, the general population that made up most packs, or Omega’s, the rarest and most treasured of all wolves, it wasn’t really great for an Alpha. You were the equivalent of a teddy bear instead of a grizzly, which didn’t really mix well with people's expectations.

On the plus side though, it meant that you were excellent at getting through to people because they listened to you first and only if you needed to would you show the aggressive and dominant side of yourself. You may not look or smell like an Alpha, but you were still an Alpha and you liked to make sure some people remembered that.

A sudden movement out of the window in the door to the corridor catches your attention and you continue to speak, only looking in that direction for a moment. The mop of silver hair on the lithe wolf standing outside tells you immediately who it is and you stifle a smile, glancing over at the clock and noting the bell is about to go.

“Okay class, it’s time to end. I want you all to read this chapter and then write a one page essay on any Ancient Greek city state. I want you to try and be creative though, don’t all do Athens and Sparta. There’s plenty out there.” Smiling at them, you watch as they begin to put their stuff away into their bags when the shrill ring of the bell causes you to wince slightly.

You always hated how loud they put it, but you guessed that was the whole point.

Once everyone has left the classroom, a few of them running to catch the bus that was waiting for them outside, you lean back against the table and let out a deep sigh. That silver mop of hair darts through the door just before it closes and grins at you broadly, his eyes almost disappearing as the roundness of his cheeks takes over.

“Ahh Ancient Greece...your favourite topic.” Jimin says cheerfully, moving over to give you a quick side hug before standing back and looking around. Your big brother was taller than you, though not as tall as any Alpha got. He was a Beta though, so just below you in the pack social hierarchy. He used his height to his advantage in any arguments you had though.

Smiling at him, you nod as you begin to clean up the classroom that teenagers have made messy throughout the day. There’s a whole stack of papers on your desk that need to be taken home and marked, plus a whole new lesson plan to come up with for next week. For now though, you’d just focus on this and be thankful it was the weekend.

Jimin begins to help you, moving through the desks and placing the chairs on top of the tables carefully. He’d come straight from one of his jobs and so is still wearing the oh so stylish black work trousers that have a billion different pockets sewn into them, some of them still filled with items from wherever he’d been. A plain black polo, covered in a few stains from whatever he’d been doing has the logo of his company on the left side.

Your big brother had always been good with his hands and he’d developed a love of manual work when you were younger. Everyone in your family had thought that he’d become a mechanic or something, but he’d surprised you all by becoming a plumber of all things. But he seemed to enjoy it and he’d founded his own company last year, enabling him to take on jobs at his own pace while also taking on another plumber along with an apprentice.

“Have they called about your car?” He asks absentmindedly, throwing the trash that he’d found on the floor into the bin before moving over to wipe your whiteboard clean. You’re putting away some of the books that you’d used earlier in the day before storing the printouts you’d made but you give him a quick nod.

“Yeah, it’s all done. Are you okay to drop me at the garage so I can grab it?” Jimin smiles and nods, giving you a thumbs up as well before hopping up onto your desk. His hands drop between his legs while his feet dangle happily as he watches you.

“That’s fine. I can take you there and then go get some pizza if you want? The job today will pay well and they’ve already signed up to be a repeat customer. Which is exactly what I want as it’s a chain of businesses!” He says excitedly, wiggling in place and you grin at him.

“Awww, that’s so good. Congrats. Told you that you’d do well.” Turning back to the little bookcase you keep in your classroom, you place the final book into its place before standing back and moving over to him. Jimin has that look on his face now and you sigh, knowing where he’s going to go with this already.

“Yeah, I’m doing well. And I think you’re going to do well in the elections too. You just need to actually...get out there and talk to people in the pack. They know of you, but most of them don’t really know you, know you? I mean...you work out here in the city so there’s not really any reason for anyone to get to know you well.” Jimin points out, leaning back on one arm and raising a brow at you.

Sighing again, you look over at him before chewing your lip. “I grew up there and I live there again. How is it that people don’t know me? They’ve known me my whole life. I’m only really doing this because you’re adamant on it and think I’ll have a chance, which I think is stupid by the way.”

The pack leadership elections were going to be in less than a year and the candidates had already put their name forward for consideration a month ago. You’d been one of those to enter your name and had been confirmed as a potential candidate only a week ago.

Unsurprisingly, only Alpha’s could enter the pack leadership contests because Alpha’s had the required inherent characteristics that allowed them to lead. They needed to be strong enough to cope with everyone’s demands, empathetic enough to listen to people, diplomatic enough to make decisions about people’s problems and tough enough to defend the pack if necessary.

You didn’t think you really had the required skills given your unusual nature, but Jimin thought you’d make a good leader. Family and friends had thrown their weight behind you too and so you’d found yourself submitting your name, wondering what on earth you were doing.

The idea of you being the Pack Alpha was ridiculous, but you knew that you were going to receive a lot of stigma and hate because of your differences to a regular Alpha. On top of that, there had also been the creeping misogyny that had been spreading throughout the wolf world in recent decades, in direct contrast to the humans, which meant that many of the old schoolers in the pack were beginning to look down on a female Alpha.

It was all bullshit and everyone knew it. That was actually one of the reasons you’d gone along with it, because if you somehow did win then you’d love to be able to rub it into all of their sexist noses that you’d beaten their little boys. Petty? Yes. But you had to do what you had to do.

“Yeah, you grew up there. And we both live there. But you also went to the other side of the country for five years to go to college. They remember the baby Y/N, the teenage Y/N. Most of the folk in town don’t even recognise you. It’s only when they scent you that they realise it’s you. You went away and became all cultured with the university elites, became friends with other wolf packs and even other shifters. Most of the people in our pack have never seen another shifter breed or even left the state. They don’t know you anymore and you need to show them.” The look on your brother’s face is incredibly serious and you let out a groan that ends in a whine.

It’s very unbecoming for an Alpha but you don’t care. The idea of having to ingratiate yourself with a lot of people who would likely laugh at you for the very idea of thinking you could be Pack Alpha makes you want to throw something. But you know he’s right.

Jimin’s always right, unfortunately.

“Fine. Fine. What do I do? Go and knock on everyone’s doors? Hold a party? A meet and greet? Come, meet the pack’s weird Alpha and vote for her to your leader!” You make an overly exaggerated gesture as you talk, walking towards him and he rolls his eyes in response.

“Just...become a bigger part of society. Join some of the groups, come with us on pack hunts or runs. It’s easy. I don’t get hugely involved but everyone still knows who I am. I swear, you’ll be able to do it. And if you get to be our Pack Alpha, then you can start to make all those changes that you rant to me about regularly.” He shifts off the table at that, stretching his arms back until you can see the toned muscles of his abdomen.

Reaching out, you poke at them hard and he lets out a soft whine as he recoils forwards, arm covering himself before pouting at you. You grin and ruffle his hair, leading to even more complaints before he escapes your grasp.

“Those aren’t rants! They’re issues that need to get sorted out! I mean...you know that I thought this place was a little backwards when we were growing up here but moving away and coming back? God, you wouldn’t believe it.” Jimin grabs your bag from beneath your desk, placing it onto your desk before carefully putting your stuff into it.

You don’t go to stop him or anything, you trust Jimin with your personal belongings. The two of you live together in an apartment in the town you’d both grown up in, the ancestral homeland of your pack. It was partly to save on money for rent and utilities and partly just because you both liked being around each other.

Unlike other families in your pack where having four or more kids was normal, your parents had only been able to have you and Jimin. And it had taken six years for you to come into the world after Jimin. So despite the age difference, you were both close and adored each other.

“I do believe it. Because you tell me it’s true and I know you wouldn’t lie to me. Plus, you know I think there’s a lot of people in our pack that need to come into the 21st century. Some of them make me think they don’t even know what electricity is. And this is all why I think you’d make the best leader for us. Someone to modernise us finally and stop making us just look like the little backwater pack still stuck in the 18th century. I know we can do it, we have good wolves in our pack and there’s probably a lot who think like us but just don’t want to rock the boat.” Handing you your bag, he waits out in the corridor as you do a final sweep before turning off the lights and leaving.

“Yeah...you’re right. God yeah, you’re right about it. I’m trying to teach my kids here about the mistakes that were made in the past so that they know not to repeat them but I should try more with our pack too. And then...then I can make sure that our kids learn better and how to be better right?” Jimin grins broadly and hugs you to him, kissing your forehead sweetly tickling your sides until you growl gently.

“Yep. So...Operation Leader is a go.”

Humming lightly, you looked over the basket of potatoes that was on display in your local supermarket. It was your turn to do the grocery shopping, which was why you were stocking up on all the vegetables that Jimin turned his nose up at half the time. Sometimes you felt like you were living with a child but he always ate them eventually.

Tonight you were going to make lasagne and garlic bread, one of Jimin’s favourite meals. It was incredibly easy to make and you’d found yourself craving it as well, realising it had been a month or so since you’d last had it. And given Jimin was going to be home tonight, you’d decided it was time to make the cheesiest lasagne possible.

You might even indulge and make the garlic bread cheesy too. It was more than an indulgence really, because you would happily cover it all in cheese until it made you sick. Jimin wasn’t a huge fan of it though, so you knew that you’d have to limit it.

Picking up a tomato, you squeeze it experimentally to see how fresh it is before nodding and placing it inside the little net bag you’d brought for the vegetables. Fresh herbs go in as well and you get enough vegetables to make a hearty stew tomorrow, figuring that if you make a big enough pot then you can freeze some for the future and let both Jimin and you take some for lunch at work.

It’s only when you walk towards the dairy aisle, intent on grabbing a bottle of milk and deciding upon which cheese to liberally accentuate your lasagne and garlic bread with, that you accidentally knock into someone. A small ‘oof’ leaves your mouth as you wobble slightly, dropping the bag of prunes that you’d grabbed as you’d passed the end of the fruit aisle.

“I’m so sor-” You paused, brow creasing as a delicious scent fills your nose. Inhaling deeply, you take it in with wide eyes as your inner wolf growls lowly, her instincts immediately roused to life by the smell. Omega, she rumbles to you and you immediately get the biggest urge to press yourself to this newcomer.

The reaction from you isn’t surprising, given what you know of Omega’s. You’d never encountered one before, not until now, but everyone grows up learning of Omega’s. They were the rarest kind of wolf and a pack with an Omega present was considered to be exceptionally lucky.

Due to their rareness, an Omega was often treasured and deeply adored by the rest of the pack. They were to be protected at all costs, with the entire pack often banding together to ensure that they were okay. The reason for this was that Omega’s were considered to be the most submissive in a pack, naturally weak and timid along with being passive. It was a pack’s duty therefore to protect their Omega.

So you were beyond surprised that you’d encountered one in the supermarket of all places.

Shifting backwards slightly, you turn and pick up the packet of prunes before grabbing the tin of tomato soup that’s rolling your way. Standing back up, you hold out the tin to the Omega before pausing, your eyes going even wider as you look up.

He’s taller than you, a lot taller when combining what must be his natural height with the thick sole of what look like combat style boots. And he’s broad, his shoulders wide and accentuated by the black leather jacket he’s wearing, the silver embellishments of the buttons shining in the light.

Skinny jeans in black adorn his thighs and you can’t help the way your eyes drag over them, in awe of how...tight his jeans are. Especially when combined with the fact that this Omega evidently does some serious workouts given how thick and muscular his thighs are. In fact, how muscular everything looks.

His white shirt doesn’t give much away to you, but you have no doubt that if his legs look like that then the rest of him must look quite similar. Long, wavy hair is messed around his face, the strands wild and dark as they cover part of his eyes.

And it’s here that you discover the only part of him that looks like what you’d imagined an Omega would look like. Because right now, they’re wide open with shock and you freeze at the sight of them, the inner instincts that have been bred into you over centuries roaring to the fore and telling you to protect.

His eyes are filled with innocence and a tiny hint of fear, almost as if he’s afraid of what you might do. To any onlooker, that might look comical given how tiny you look in comparison to him. But his scent gives away the difference, because despite how...non-Omega he looks...he is still an Omega.

Which means if you wanted to, you could make him bow at your feet in submission as you forced a wave of dominance towards him. It wasn’t something you liked doing as it often felt like an assault on the receiver and you felt gross doing it. Some Alpha’s abused their ability, finding it amusing to lord their status over others.

But you only used it how it was meant to be used. When you were faced with someone who was refusing to follow the rules and putting others at risk. It was the only time you felt was acceptable to use that power, in order to save others.

So the fact he was looking at you like that made you pause, confusion making you hesitate as you wondered if maybe he thought you were going to force him to do something. And you realised that he’d probably be right if he’d met anyone else. There were plenty of asshole Alpha’s that you knew that would be pleased to play with an Omega, despite the reverence that a pack held for them.

Gesturing towards him with the tin, you give him a sweet smile as he takes it from you carefully, the way his fingers carefully avoid yours almost comical. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you or I would’ve moved out of the way.”

He doesn’t answer, his brow creasing in confusion as his eyes scan over you. You can’t help but watch those eyes in complete fascination, they’re so naturally big and you feel a strong urge to protect him. Not because he’s an Omega, but purely because he looks like someone with an innate curiosity that you don’t want to see die.

His nose twitches ever so slightly as he inhales deeply before speaking. “Why do you smell like that?”

You know what he means. An Alpha is supposed to smell earthy and musky, to remind a wolf of their forest homelands from centuries ago. It inspires confidence and trust, yet you smell sweet and gentle. Jimin said that you often smelled like he’d walked into a candy store.

This Omega though, he smells like an Alpha should. His strong scent is so reminiscent of the pine trees that grow in the forests around the town you’d grown up in, the only reason you know he’s an Omega is that genetic knowledge that distinguishes that part of his scent that’s different. It amuses you that you’ve found someone as contradictory in their nature as you.

“Why do you smell like that?” You counter, lips quirked up on one side in amusement as you tilt your head to look him over once more. A true contradiction of everything. Now you can understand why people find it hard to understand you.

He doesn’t respond, just stares at you with that same confusion that everyone always gives you. Only it seems a little stronger now, causing you to laugh slightly as you shake your head. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I really have to finish my shopping and go. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

Turning away from him, you continue onto the dairy aisle as you ponder what you’ve just said. You’re naturally nice as an Alpha, always polite and helpful to anyone who asks it. As someone running for the pack leadership, you’d resolved to be even more helpful from now on in order to try and help. Jimin had said it was a good idea, and you’d long ago discovered that it was easier to just go along with whatever he says instead of questioning it.

Questioning it would just lead to him whining.

But you’d felt the need to be extra nice to the Omega, almost as if to prove that you were not like other Alpha’s. Which was ridiculous, because why on earth would you care to prove that? You’d never even seen the Omega before, and you doubted that you’d see him again. They were so rare that you doubted it would be long before some Alpha snapped him up as a mate.

Pursing your lips, you hum to yourself in thought before shrugging and carrying on. You’d discuss this more with Jimin later. No doubt your brother would be fascinated to find out what you’d discovered today.

Jimin turns up in the kitchen within two minutes of you getting home, his curious expression ever so familiar as he tries to peer into all the bags. You don’t know why he’s so interested as he knows that you always buy the healthier food compared to him. Whether or not his card has ever seen a vegetable remains a mystery known only to him and the universe.

“Oooh, lasagne?” He says excitedly as you pull out the familiar items that make up his favourite meal. Grinning at him as you place the perishable items into the fridge and begin organising everything else, you nod.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be nice to have since you’re home tonight. I’m gonna try and make it so that I make one side be overloaded with cheese while the other side is more normal for you.” Your stomach gurgles at the thought and Jimin snorts in amusement, taking one of the apples that you’d bought and biting into it eagerly.

He may not be fond of vegetables, but you knew that he loved fruit.

“I fully expect you to make a mac n cheese lasagne one day. No meat or anything.” Jimin says, sitting down at the table as he watches you finish putting everything away before you turn on the oven to preheat.

Your nose wrinkles at his words and you shake your head in response, taking the minced beef out of its packet and into a saucepan before turning on the hob. Waiting for it to heat up so you can brown the minced meat, you turn to making the sauce for the lasagne.

“No way. I may love cheese but that’s because it can make the lasagne go all lovely and crispy. Mmm. I do enjoy the meat too.” Lips pursing, you take the juicy tomatoes that you’d bought to make the sauce and look at it for a moment, memory suddenly sparking.

“Hey Jimin...when I was at the supermarket...I bumped into an Omega there? It was really weird, I didn’t even think the pack had an Omega or anything. But like...he didn’t smell like one properly, nor did he look like what I imagined an Omega would.” The tone of your voice is wondering and Jimin can tell that you’re going through scenarios in your head.

He lets out a long noise as he considers for a moment before making a small ‘ahh’ sound. “That was probably Jeon Jungkook. You remember him? Or...remember of him?”

Nodding slowly, you frown as you try to think back to when you’d been younger and you’d heard of the stories of him.

“Yeah but I thought he, like, never left his house. Weren’t his parents super overprotective of him? He got homeschooled and everything right?” Jimin shrugs in response, biting into his apple once more and chewing carefully.

“He did. I think they did it so he wouldn’t get bugged by any Alpha’s or anything. I mean...your reaction right now is telling me that was probably a good reason and you’re one of the best Alpha’s I know. But he’s spent the last year living on his own, away from his parents. I think he’s trying to gain more independence and experience the world in a safer way or something. I see him occasionally around town. Not really what you expect of an Omega, huh?” That makes you laugh as you nod.

“The man is built like a truck. Honestly, I think he could probably take on most Alpha’s and win. He didn’t say much to me. He bumped into me and I gave him back his soup. In fact, all he said to me was ‘why do you smell like that?’ to which I asked him the same thing. He smells like an Alpha should smell, only with the overlay of Omega. He was very brusque, almost confrontational.” You ponder that as you turn the meat over, evenly browning it all before setting a second saucepan on the hob.

“Well, that’s understandable. I mean...he gets accosted by a lot of the Alpha’s and Beta’s who see him around town. The whole stereotype of Omega’s means that they think they can basically bully him into hanging out with them or...doing stuff with him. I think he’s probably been given a ridiculous number of mating requests and he’s turned them all down. Despite what many wolves think, apparently Omega’s are not as submissive as they’re stereotyped to be.” His voice gets light at that and you can practically hear the irony in it, knowing that Jimin probably severely disapproves of how Jungkook is treated.

It makes sense though, he’s grown up seeing how people have mistreated you because of how you don't adhere to the stereotypes of a traditional Alpha. Hearing that about Jungkook makes you feel angry though, almost resentful of everyone else in the pack who make Jungkook’s very existence a likely chore to him.

“Well that’s just rude. He’s still a person, a wolf with his own mind and abilities. Why are they so mean to him? I mean...I’m the least Alpha you’ve ever seen but it doesn’t mean I’m not an Alpha, you know? This is what I mean I say the pack is so ridiculous and outdated! It’s just gross. Why are they so bigoted and small minded? There’s no one way to be an Alpha and there’s no one way to be an Omega. Jungkook and I both show that. There’s nothing wrong either of us.” You say vehemently, grip tightening on the large plastic spoon in your hand.

Your argument makes Jimin laugh lightly, causing you to glare at him until he holds his hands up in defence, one hand holding an apple core. “Hey, hey. I agree. I fully support Jungkook being an ass to everyone if they’re being an ass to him in turn. See, this is why you need to win the leadership! So that then everyone can see how stupid they’re all being and backwards!”

That makes you groan loudly, eyes rolling to the ceiling as your head tilts back. You don’t even look over at Jimin as he deposits the core into the bin and makes his way over to the door frame. Your defeated expression makes him chuckle though.

“Jimin, I swear, every conversation with you better not end with you bugging me about this stupid fucking leadership competition. If it does, I promise that I stick this spoon up your damn ass.” You threaten, lifting the spoon threateningly as he laughs even louder.

Licking the ice cream that remains on top of the cone you’d bought, you let out a little happy noise before grinning over at Sana. She’s eating her own ice cream, only she’s already onto the cone now and you snort in amusement. Salted caramel was her downfall and you’d known immediately which flavour she was going to pick when you’d both headed into the small, family owned ice cream parlour in town.

It had been years since you’d been in there, long before you’d headed off to college and part of you had been surprised that it was still going. Mainly because it seemed that in this day and age, a lot of smaller stores like this seemed to die off as bigger conglomerates took over.

There was a Baskin Robbins just on the outskirts of town so it was impressive to see just how busy and popular the old ‘50s themed parlour still was. And also kind of nice, to see people still doing well in the pack while the pack supported them in turn.

They’d upped their game since you’d left though and now offered a ridiculously large range of flavours to match the national chain that had opened up while also expanding their range of milkshakes and smoothies in turn. And that was to say nothing of the cakes, cookies and other baked delights they’d invented.

Sana swore that it was the best place in town when you’d agreed to meet up with her today, praising it to the heavens. You were both just going to chill out and do a little shopping in the smaller, more boutique stores that your town had to offer while catching up on everything.

She was your best friend from childhood and when you’d gone off to college, she’d chosen to stay behind to attend the college in the closest city. It had allowed her to attain her degree in law and she was now working towards the bar, while interning at the only law firm in town. Quite obviously, it specialised in wolf law and inter-species relations and Sana had been determined to be a part of the law network around here.

Understandable, given her mother was a human and her father a Beta wolf. Their relationship hadn’t been entirely well received by the pack, yet another reason you felt spurred on to enter the leadership contest as it was another example of the pack being outdated. Human-wolf relations were completely normal when you’d been in college, the city you’d been living in cosmopolitan and liberal.

Perhaps it was too much of you to expect your small town to be more open, but you were determined to try. For wolves like you, Sana and Jungkook.

Bumping into her gently, you smile softly before taking the final lick of what remained of the ice cream in your cone. You’d picked your old favourite, chocolate chip mint, and had enjoyed every bit of it.

“Mmm, this was a good choice. It tastes even better than when I last went there.” Sana grins brightly, her face lighting up with happiness at the combination of the ice cream and just being with you again. It felt good to hang out with her and you were determined to spend more time with her now that you were living here once more.

“I know right? I mean, it was good five years ago but that Baskin Robbins has really made them up their game. Along with the general like for more flavours now. And thank goodness they decided to invest in learning how to make a salted caramel flavour because I swear, I go here once a week for this stuff.” She sighs dreamily before eating the last bit of her cone, licking her fingers in an attempt to make sure she got all the flavour before pouting dramatically.

Chuckling, you carefully bite your own cone before licking at the remnants of mint ice cream that cling to the inside. “Do they sell tubs? They should, it’d be a good business venture. They could even stock them in the stores here. People would buy it.”

Immediately, Sana’s eyes go wide with excitement as her jaw drops.

“Oh my god, yes they should! Why have they never thought of that? That's the best idea ever. We need to suggest it to them, they have a suggestion box and I would like to have my entire freezer filled with delicious salted caramel ice cream. Oooh, and the cookies and cream. And the pecan ice cream! Oh, and the pistachio!” Snorting, you shake your head as you finish your own cone and push her arm lightly in amusement.

“It’s a good thing you’re a wolf with a wolf’s metabolism because I don’t know how you’d keep that figure otherwise. Honestly. Does your fridge or pantry even have any food that doesn’t contain sugar?” You tease her gently, smiling as she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Of course. There’s water. That’s the perfect remedy for when I’ve indulged in too much wine.” Amused, you look away from her to the window of the store you’re both passing. Sana hadn’t changed much since you were both eighteen and you were thankful for it. She was still the happy, bubbly girl you’d been friends with for years, only now she has a veneer of adulthood about her.

Hopefully you were the same.

“You know, I can see why Jimin started dating you. You both have the eating habits of a five-year-old. If it wasn’t for me, I’m not sure Jimin would even know what a vegetable looks like. And I mean any vegetable.” That gets Sana smiling as you mention your big brother, and her boyfriend of two years.

The two of them had started dating in your final year of college. It hadn’t been too surprising as you’d known that Sana always had a little crush on Jimin but you’d been surprised that Jimin had reciprocated it. He’d always been steadfastly avoidant of anything that could potentially encourage a crush with your friends when growing up, which you’d definitely appreciated.

But apparently they’d come across each other a few times in your small town and one thing had led to another. They weren’t mated yet or anything, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it was only a matter of time. Jimin never did anything quickly, always taking his time to be as sure as possible before doing anything. It’s what made him a good plumber with a 100% success rate.

You had no doubt that Sana probably appreciated it as well, as being mated would mean they would have a higher chance of creating pups. And you knew damn well that Sana had big dreams for her career before starting a family. Not that she wouldn’t welcome them into her life, but you were pleased that they were both taking things slowly still.

“I don’t know, I’ve seen him with a cucumber before.” Frowning, you look away from the display of the latest book releases and over at her. You were about to ask her a question when you recognised the sly look of mischief on her face and you gagged loudly, turning away and back to the display.

In the window, you could see your expression of pure disgust. “Sana. That is my brother! I do not want to...oh god, ew. Ewwww.”

Sana’s high pitched giggle takes over as she enters the bookstore, her pure amusement at your horror causing you to smile despite the gross image you’d just had ingrained in your mind. That was the last time you were ever buying cucumber for the apartment.

The scent of fresh books welcomes as you enter the store and you instantly relax, closing your eyes to take a deep inhale. You’d always loved books and reading, it had been a strong passion of yours which was why you’d taken a dual subject degree; English literature and history. Your master’s degree had been in teaching, meaning that you were qualified to teach both English and history in the school you worked at.

Books were one of the most important things in the world to you as they not only informed and passed on the knowledge that people had gained over the centuries, even millennia, but they also opened up entirely new worlds to positively millions of people around the world. There was no world too big when it came to books and you felt passionately about encouraging everyone to read and indulge, whether they loved a bodice ripping romance or the autobiography of a popular sports star.

Sana tugged at your arm as she directed you towards the shelves of the popular novels, both of you scanning over them quietly. Reading had been a passion of you both and your parents had always been amused to sometimes come into your room when you were younger to find you both reading separately, the only thing making any noise was the stereo that played your favourite songs.

“You heard of anything good coming out?” You ask idly, crouching down to examine the history section and pursing your lips when you see an interesting book on the history of Ancient Mesopotamia. Flipping it over, you read the blurb intently before standing with it firmly in your hand.

“Not really, I think I’m just in the mood for something really light though. Easy to pick up and read for ten minutes or so at night.” She says, pulling out a copy of Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. You take in the cover before laughing and taking it from her, putting it back in its place.

“That is not the book you want then. Trust me, you have to read that book like, twice, to even understand what happened. Hmm...I’d recommend this, I have read it and it’s got a few sequels so you’ll be able to sink your teeth into it.” You hand her a copy of The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski. “It’s a series called The Witcher, they made some games from it and there’s a Netflix show out too. You’ll enjoy it.”

Sana makes an interested noise and reads over the back before nodding in approval, giving you a smile of thanks before wandering off to her favourite genre section of the store. She’d always been a sucker for the fiction books with a particular love of crime and thriller. No surprise really, given her career choice.

Smiling, you make your own way over to the non-fiction section. You would read anything but you really enjoyed your history, autobiographies or memoirs. Tilting your head, you scan over the titles carefully before pulling out a book called Educated by Tara Westover. It only takes a quick scan over the blurb to see that it’s something that interests you and you add it to your small pile before continuing to look.

“Are you stalking me or something?” Comes a deep voice to your right, the sound so low and unexpected that you jolt in surprise, a hand coming to rest on your chest as a noise leaves you. It’s probably not a very Alpha-like response but honestly, what did he expect when jumping up on you like that? He was lucky you hadn’t responded the other way and tried to rip his throat out.

Turning quickly, you go to snap at the intruder and pause, eyes having to scan upwards to meet him. You’re so surprised at who it is that you take a step backwards, any irritance you might have had vanishing as you take in the sight of Jeon Jungkook standing before you.

Today, he’s got an oversized black hoodie covering his entire torso while black cargo pants adorn his legs, the numerous pockets looking empty and meeting the same boots he’d been wearing the other week. You take all of that in within seconds, brows narrowing inwards as you try to understand how you’ve come across him again.

“I’m not stalking you. I’m buying books. What does it look like I’m doing?” The words fall from your lips before you even run through them mentally, causing them to come out simultaneously belligerent and confused.

Jungkook’s beautiful eyes narrow slightly at you and his free hand pushes his hair out of his face, his surprisingly soft looking lips going particularly pouty. You take the moment to admire how clear his skin looks, the crappy lighting of the store making him probably look worse than he actually does. Which is impressive, because he already looks monumentally handsome.

“Well I don’t know. Wouldn’t be the first time an Alpha stalked me.” He grumbles, glaring at you before turning to face the bookcase. It’s almost with amusement that you note he doesn’t even look at the spine of the book he grabs, instead just pulling it out immediately.

Brow rising, you bit your lip to try and stop your smile. “So...got an interest in the history of sex hmm? Not really something I’d try and teach my students but it’s always good to have more information.”

You can’t help it, not when you see the obscenely large pink text that clearly states ‘A Curious History of Sex’ on the front cover. Of all the books he could’ve picked out, he managed to grab that one. And you think he’s probably mentally thinking that too by the way his cheeks flush the prettiest pink, even his ears going red with heat as he lets out a sigh and quickly shoves it back into place.

“Shut up,” The growl he gives is actually kind of impressive. “Of all the fucking books. Of course you picked out a sex book with an Alpha next to you.” He mutters quietly to himself, rolling his eyes and actually taking the time to read the spines this time. You’re kind of impressed that he gave you an order, particularly given the unfortunate stereotype of Omega’s. Evidently, there were a lot of things that were exaggerated.

Silence falls between you both and you sigh this time, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. His raised shoulders indicate that he clearly wants nothing to do with you, but you feel a deep and innate need to say something to him.

“Hey...Jungkook. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me and I swear I’ll leave after this. Or at least...go to another part of the store. First of all, I know your name because my brother told me about you. I’ve not been in town for a few years. And second of all...I know it’s probably not much but...I’m really sorry about how you’ve probably been treated over the years. As you can probably tell, I’m not really like other Alpha’s so I’ve been on the receiving end of some negative treatment too and I know how cruel wolves can be. I just...I’m sorry for anyone who has stereotyped you and felt they had some right to you as a result. It’s probably not a lot but I hate that you felt the need to say that to me.”

Taking a deep breath, you give him a hesitant smile before carefully stepping away from him. It was probably pointless that you’d done that, and he would probably laugh at your idiotic behaviour lately. You knew Jimin sure would. Why the hell would Jungkook care if one Alpha apologised for the bad treatment he’s received for years? Particularly given you’re the least Alpha-like wolf out there.

But Jungkook is staring at you intently, his eyes narrow not in anger or suspicion but careful thought. His lips purse slightly before he licks them, his body posture loosening up slightly as he relaxes a little.

“You’re not like other Alpha’s are you? I mean, besides from the whole being tiny and smelling sweet thing,” He gestures to all of you at that, causing you to give a smile of amusement to let him know you’ve taken no offence. “You’re the first Alpha that’s ever apologised to me. For anything really, and you haven’t even done anything to warrant the apology.”

Chewing on your lip, you play the books in your hands before shrugging at him.

“Yeah well, no one ever apologised to me for all the comments they’ve made over the years. Not sure if I’d like to accept one either but I at least like the thought of someone trying to apologise. Won’t help everything that’s happened but it’s a start, you know?” You offer the words to him gently, hoping that he’ll understand why you felt the need to apologise to him.

He was right, in that you hadn’t done anything to offend him so far. You hadn’t said anything rude or negative to him, you hadn’t stalked or pursued him. In fact, the very idea of it was absolutely abhorrent. Sure, he smelled delicious and you had the biggest urge to press yourself to him and preen but you wouldn’t do it. You were an Alpha, and Alpha’s were supposed to have the best control.

Jungkook pauses slightly before nodding, running his hand through his hair once more. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Does feel a little nice to get some form of apology I guess. But you didn’t need to. You’re the first Alpha to not try to bully me into submitting to them or obeying them. I’ve even had a few try to force me into sex. In fact, I think the only time I’ve ever smelled your dominance was when I just scared you. And that was my fault, so I’m sorry.”

Grinning, you nod your head at him in acceptance and casually reach to the bookcase, grabbing a book about the history of the British SAS and adding it to your pile. You don’t even need to read the blurb, already knowing that you’d enjoy it and Jungkook eyes your books curiously.

“I don’t like making people submit to me if they don’t want to. It’s cruel and demeaning. We only have that power so that it’s used in dire circumstances. Anyone doing it to you is an asshole and you should tell them that. Or...well...think it at them, don’t do anything that might get you hurt,” Pausing, you frown over at him as you feel your heart expand in sympathy while a fire of anger burns in your stomach. “And I certainly don’t force people into sex with me. There’s a legal definition for that, and the act is most definitely illegal. Anyone does that, or tries it, I hope you report them because that’s disgusting.”

The vehemence in your voice is strong and firm, causing Jungkook to back away ever so slightly, his eyes widening as you accidentally let slip of your control. But you see no fear in his eyes, because it was quite clear that your anger was not directed towards him. In fact, it was more of a protective anger, an anger that he’d possibly been hurt or scared.

Still though, you don’t like the fact that you’d slipped and you bow your head, apologising quickly to him. He doesn’t say anything and you take a deep breath, calming yourself down before giving him a very neutral smile.

“I think it’s probably time for me to go now, I’ve got enough for my bookcase and my friend is waiting for me. It was nice to meet you Jungkook and I hope that whenever we meet next, you can feel a little more comfortable with me. And that you don’t terrify me at the start.” That gets a laugh from him, the sound high and lou. You end up laughing in turn, your own laugh quieter and more gentle.

Turning from him, you go to head over to the cashier before you feel a slight pressure on your arm. Pausing, you realise that it’s Jungkook before you even turn around, his delightful scent surrounding you so much that you can’t help but close your eyes and take a deep breath. Combined with the heavenly scent of books, you’re not sure you’ve ever smelled anything better.

Shifting until you’re facing him, you see Jungkook’s face looking a little nervous. His eyes glance about, almost as if he was checking to see if there was anyone around and you wonder what he wanted from you.

Finally though, he gestures down to the phone in his hand that he points towards you, the screen open to a new contact page. Glancing back up with a raised eyebrow, you have to seriously fight to stop the smile that wants to spread when you realise that his cheeks are pink once more.

“I’m sorry if this is...a little forward or anything but, is there any chance you might be okay with giving me your number?” He smiles at that, his white teeth perfect and straight in his mouth as his eyes positively light up with the same mischief you see in Jimin sometimes. “I think I’d like to get to know you a bit more...if you’re okay with that?”

You’re positive that your jaw has dropped and you desperately want to shove it back into place, feeling that you were probably being a little rude. Okay, a lot rude. But seriously, Jungkook had just asked for your number. An Omega, who had a clear dislike of Alpha’s for a good reason, had asked for your number.

Carefully, you eye him and realise he’s being completely serious. There’s a small delay between you realising this and your hand moving forward to take the smartphone from him, your fingers carefully typing in your name and number.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Handing back the phone, he glances down at the screen and smiles softly.

“I think so. It was nice meeting you Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon.”

It had been over two months since that day at the bookstore, when you’d experienced how...non-Omega like Jeon Jungkook was. And he’d continued to surprise you ever since. He was bold when you expected submissive, arrogant where you’d been told to expect meekness and so much more.

You were thoroughly delighted by how contradictory he was and enjoyed testing the limits with him. He seemed to enjoy it too, given how he let you push at his boundaries while he in turn pushed at your own experimentally. It was an odd give-and-take with him, something you’d never experienced before and you were finding yourself increasingly enamoured with him.

Not that you were going to tell him that of course. The last you wanted was for him to feel like there was yet another Alpha pressuring him for anything. But it was just hard to not develop any feelings for him when he was so sweet and kind.

The two of you had texted frequently for the first two weeks before you’d met up at a local café, learning how to translate that easy going conversation via text into face-to-face conversation. You’d learnt how to though, carefully navigating the intricacies of a friendship with an Omega.

Jungkook could often be abrasive and sometimes took things to heart. A simple sentence from you that had no negative implications would be misunderstood by him to the extent that you were sometimes left wondering if you’d said something bad. And then he’d apologise, his cheeks red as he’d admit that it had been him who has misinterpreted you.

It was the strangest friendship you’d ever had, yet also one that you’d grown to love. Jungkook had a big heart beneath all his overly large, black clothing and his blunt personality. You had certainly enjoyed discovering that, finding out all the ways that made him smile in that soft and shy way, how to make him laugh in the overly sweet giggle that made your heart race a little.

Tonight he had come over to your apartment with the promise of freshly made Greek food and a night of watching Locke and Key on Netflix. You’d both watched the first episode independently before deciding that you’d watch it together when Jimin and Sana had shown no interest. Which meant that tonight, you would hopefully both blitz through the rest of the series in one go.

Of course, Jungkook wasn’t going to turn down food. Especially free food. So he’d happily said yes and had been a surprisingly good help in the kitchen as you’d shown him how to help prepare the food. Right now, your stomach was pretty content and happy; full of pork souvlaki, dolmades made of hollowed out and stuffed tomatoes with a whole array of delicious sides including homemade tzatziki and fresh olives.

The dessert had been a store made baklava, because you weren’t quite willing to put your talents as far as making that. But it had been just as delightful and you knew that Jungkook had enjoyed every mouthful. In fact, he’d probably wanted more when he’d realised there was no more souvlaki left. He’d even eaten all the salad.

And now you were both sitting on the couch, your feet curled under you as your belly protested ever so slightly from being filled with so much food and a glass of red wine in your hand. Jungkook had a bottle of beer and you were surprised by how...domestic it all felt really.

Jimin wasn’t home tonight, he was spending the night with Sana and had given you a very peculiar look when you’d told him that you wouldn’t go with him because Jungkook was coming over. Normally, you’d spend a few hours at Sana’s before heading back home and leaving them both alone to enjoy each other.

Your brother had met Jungkook over the last few weeks. Even become quite friendly with him. Jungkook’s own friends, Kim Taehyung and Kim Namjoon had slowly become friends with both you and your brother as well. They were both Delta’s, the general population of a pack, and so were completely harmless to Jungkook thankfully.

It had been particularly amusing when you’d met them to see how protective they were over the Omega. Especially given the fact that as an Alpha, you were the top rank out of them all. But their hackles had slowly gone down as they’d gotten to know you better and realised that you had no intention of pushing your will on any of them, particularly Jungkook.

All of you had gone out to the city one day, checking out the giant shopping mall there and even playing around in the old school arcade that they had. Jungkook and you had engaged in more than one round of the classic Time Crisis, both of you yelling whenever you died and had to feed more money into the machine. The others had stood around watching for a while before moving off to play the basketball game.

After that, you’d both devoured fully stacked cheeseburgers and a portion of large fries before drowning them in a large cookie dough milkshake. It had been fun and had almost felt like a date, if there hadn’t also been Jungkook’s two friends with you along with Jimin and Sana.

Thankfully, the presence of an Alpha and two Beta’s had prevented anyone from trying anything funny with Jungkook, leaving him to simply enjoy the day out. And you were beyond happy that had been his experience so far with you every time you’d both gone out together. Your mere presence as an Alpha kept others at bay.

Despite how easy everything was being tonight, you felt a little funny and strange. Jimin had made a casual comment the other day about how your scent seemed to change when Jungkook was around, taking on an almost earthy scent while Jungkook’s in turn became sweeter. You thought it was just because you were near someone who was awakening the primal instincts in you, and vice versa with Jungkook.

That had got you a droll stare.

But you would have to admit that being like this, sitting with him and his warmth being so close to your own while his scent overwhelmed you so delightfully, made you feel happy and content. A small voice in the back of your mind was telling you what it was, what it all meant. But you didn’t want to acknowledge that voice, didn’t want to let it gain ground in your mind.

What you had with Jungkook was good right now. It was solid, surprisingly stable given the short amount of time you’d known him and how drastically different both of your backgrounds were. Though you couldn’t help but think.

Okay, if you were being entirely honest with yourself then you wanted Jungkook. You wanted to date him, to hold his hand and make him smile. Kiss his cheek and his nose, feel all of that strong body beneath his clothes, feel his hands on you while you run your hands along him, learn the taste of his mouth and…

Shaking your head, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind before your scent changes in a way that even Jungkook is going to notice. Taking a deep swallow of wine, you point at the screen while scoffing loudly.

“Is it just me, or are these kids taking all this weirdness in their stride way too easily? Like, oh look! A key opens a mirror world where you can get lost and die! Nothing weird there. Casual day in their lives.” Jungkook snorts, grinning as he takes a drink.

“They do seem to be quite calm about this whole thing. I mean, I’d be freaking the fuck out if that was me. Taking the first train to Nopeville and stopping at Hell the Fuck No City on the way.” Laughing, you press your face into his shoulder. He had the strangest humour sometimes.

Jungkook particularly liked those old school ‘90s comedy films or early 2000s. He’d already made you watch Dumb and Dumber along with Clerks, Happy Gilmore and Dodgeball. You’d admit to enjoy Dodgeball, okay so maybe you’d laughed particularly hard at the ‘if you can avoid a wrench!’ scene, but the others had questionable humour to you.

To him though, it had been the funniest thing he’d ever seen. His laugh was particularly loud when he was enjoying something so freely, the sound infectious until you were giggling along with him. So even though you weren’t exactly enamoured with the films he liked to watch, you went along with them because he liked them. And you liked it when he got the happy look in his eyes.

“I guess it wouldn’t really make it exciting though if they just noped the fuck outta there, huh?” You muse, casually eating a fruit gummy from the pack of Haribo you’d bought at the grocery store too. Jimin would kill you if he found out that you’d bought them when he wasn’t here, but whatever.

Offering the packet to Jungkook, he gives you a sweet smile before carefully reaching inside and picking out a tangy cherry gummy. He pops into his mouth quickly, a hum of happiness leaving him as he wiggles slightly, rosy pink lips pouting slightly as he chews. Snorting, you smile brightly and poke his cheek affectionately.

Looking at you, his eyes widen in that innocent way of his that makes your heart strings tug. Despite his bold and aggressive exterior, the tattoos that line his arms in what you’re convinced is a way to express his creativity while also protecting himself from anyone looking, he was still an Omega. He growled at you and grumbled frequently, ignoring your requests and straight up argued with Jimin frequently.

Jungkook defied every stereotype of an Omega and almost took great delight at doing so. Yet at his heart, just like you were still an Alpha when you stripped everything away, he was still an Omega. The way he would watch with boundless curiosity when you cooked or helped to build the new bookcase you’d bought last week. His sweet nature was always so giving, how he would happily share his food with you and how much he loved affection despite his initial belligerence.

You knew that the only reason you were seeing this Jungkook was because he felt comfortable with you. That you gave him the stability and protection that made him feel like he could be open with you and honest about himself.

“Jungkook...how...okay, don’t answer this question if you don’t want to or anything. But...when we first met, and the second time, you were surprisingly aggressive. For an Omega. And I know, I know, stereotypes and all that. But...having got to know you, I’m a little surprised by how unlike you that was. You’re so sweet and kind and funny, genuine and honest. I was half convinced that you were gonna bite my head off the second time we met.” Jungkook’s cheeks flush bright red at that, one hand coming up to rub at them before he lets out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah...I know. It's an, erm, survival mechanism. My parents taught me to be...bolder than I actually am. Inside, I’m quaking with fear when I act like that because all it takes is one genuine command and I’d be on my knees. Usually an Alpha is so surprised by my aggression that they don’t do anything further. No one wants to fight an Omega, right? And then I make my getaway.” He takes another gummy from the pack, chewing on it carefully.

“That makes sense. Your parents were smart. I know I confused my parents when I was younger because of how...non-Alpha I was. By all of the stereotypes, I should’ve been hammering and pushing around Jimin when I was old enough to walk and shift. But instead, I would let him push me around. It was almost amusing how confused it made them.” You laugh, grinning at him brightly with an aura of smug amusement. “I have the instincts in me, but I don’t feel like-”

“Like you’re being run by them. I get it. Same here. I get the urge to be submissive and quiet and meek, all those lovely instincts that Omega’s have for some godforsaken reason. I just don’t feel the need to let them come to the fore. Instead, I can almost push-”

“Push them away. They’re there, in your head and your body, your wolf knows them, but you don’t need to use them.” Jungkook looks at you for a moment with a serious expression, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly and you wonder what he’s thinking. He looks like he’s considering something.

“I’ve never met anyone who understands what it’s like. And it’s even weirder given how different we are in the pack hierarchy.” Reaching for his drink, he takes a long swallow and you watch the way the muscles in his throat work as he does so, your own mouth suddenly bone dry. His words permeate your mind and you purse your lips, shrugging slightly.

“Same. But...it’s nice not to feel so alone, you know? Part of the reason why I’m running for leadership. I mean, a big part is to shut Jimin up but...I genuinely want to change the way this pack thinks and how it runs. Wolves like us are just as normal as any other and I don’t see why a stereotype should be the way we have to run our lives. You’re an Omega, yes, but you’re so much more than that. I know we have our wolves in us, and there’s part of us and instincts we can never change, but the human side of us needs to learn and grow. Move with the times.” That gets a laugh from Jungkook as he places his bottle back down, grinning at you.

“You sound like you’re giving some great speech. But you’re right. I’ll vote for you.” Looking at him sharply, you scan over his face closely to see if he’s joking or anything. You’d had plenty of people who were being honest when they said they would vote for you, but you’d also had plenty of people who had been joking.

It would be nice if you could say the high school nastiness had stayed in high school. Instead, it had just become an unfortunate personality trait of some wolves.

But his face was serious, his expression earnest and his eyes wide with his sincerity. Your hackles slowly relaxed as you chewed your inner lip before giving him a small nod and an even smaller smile.

“Thanks. I mean...I’m not gonna win but you know.”

“Well, not with that attitude. Come on, you’re an Alpha. Embrace your stereotype for once and be braggadocios. It’s the one time I won’t hold it against you.” Dancing his finger around your nose, he practically sings the words and you laugh while also noting he has a nice voice.

“Okay, okay. I guess. Even though I’m all about dismantling the stereotypes of the pack, I will embrace my own this once. For Jimin and you, because I think between you both, you’re going to drive me crazy until it’s all over.” The Omega laughs loudly, the sound so pure that you can’t help but laugh along as your heart soars and you feel almost light headed. You’re not sure if that’s basically of his basic nature, or if it’s just because it’s Jungkook.

“Good. And while you’re embracing your stereotype, I’m going to take your advice and go against mine and be bold right now,” He pauses for dramatic effect. Or at least, you think it's a dramatic effect, until you see the nervous way his eyes look away from you constantly. “I like being your friend. It’s really good, and I really like it. I do. But...I was wondering if maybe...you wanted to be...more?”

Jungkook’s boldness dies away by the end of his sentence until his words are so soft and gentle, you can barely hear them. His cheeks are a flaming red now and you get the impression he’s trying to hide behind his luscious locks of hair. But you heard the words all the same, and you let go of the breath you’d been holding.

Part of you wants to interrogate him, to ask if he was being serious. If this is what he really wanted. If he was really okay with being with an Alpha. You wanted to make sure this was all comfortable for him.

But the bigger part of you, the part that was jumping for joy and your wolf who was howling in excitement along with you, wanted to just say yes. Jungkook was a grown man. An adult who just happened to be an Omega. If you were serious about ignoring the stereotypes that had been placed on you both, then this would be a prime start.

By letting him have true agency over his decisions and acknowledging that he had evidently thought them through until he had come to this request. Jungkook was naturally shy beneath his veneer of boldness, and you knew he thought things through a lot. So to know he’d been thinking of this...in the same way you had.

You only have one word to say to him, a word you both evidently want to hear and you can’t stop the giant smile that paints across your face as you give it to him.

“Yes.”

Standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, you contemplate whether to wear the olive green shirt or the buttercup yellow one. It was traditional for the candidates for pack leadership to wear the colours of nature on the election day and you were keen to uphold this one tradition at least. If there was one thing you did agree with the pack on, it was the need to appreciate and love nature.

But still, you were unsure of what to wear. You had to make a good impression after all and you were the only woman going forward for the Pack Leadership. That thought immediately makes you scowl though and you want to pinch yourself. There was no need for you to put more effort in than the other two candidates just because of who you are. That was the kind of thinking you were rallying against.

“You should wear the yellow. It looks pretty on you.” Jungkook’s voice pipes up from where he’s laid on the bed. He sounds a little tired and you know that he’d been up late last night trying to finish the project he’d been assigned by the digital marketing company he worked for. Their deadline had been moved up drastically which meant he’d had to work harder to get everything finished, being one of their few website and graphic designers.

“Really?” You hum, shifting to assess yourself as you hold the yellow shirt in front of you instead. It does look pretty good on you but you were going to be wearing sand coloured jeans. That would be too pale overall and you didn’t want to stand out too much, plus there wasn’t any green in your wardrobe. But then again, the olive would make you look like some kind of army dropout.

“Don’t you have some dark green pants in there? I’m sure I saw them.” With that, he heaves himself out of bed and stretches, looking mighty fine as you’re gifted with the view of his muscled body and tan skin, the abundance of tattoos he loves so much scrawled across his arms. His hair is just as long and ruffled as the day you first met, only it’s looking even more like a mess right now and you snort.

You don’t remember the pants he’s talking about so you wait for him to finish scratching his belly, nails scraping against the fine hair that leads above the band of his boxers. Finally though, he walks over and rummages through your closest while humming lightly to himself. Smiling, you run your fingers along his back and enjoy the way he shivers against you.

It’s been a good few months since the two of you had started dating. The rest of the Pack had been surprised to find out that the impossibly grumpy Omega had finally agreed to date an Alpha and you’d gotten plenty of suspicious words from people over time. There were a lot who didn’t understand why Jungkook was with you of all Alpha’s, given how...unlike the one you were.

But it had also bizarrely had a strange effect on your popularity in the rankings. Given the almost mythical status afforded Omega’s, it was almost like the Pack viewed you as someone more worthy of the very idea of leadership because he’d chosen to be with you. Jimin had told you it was because of yet more antiquated ideas surrounding Omega’s and the fact that a lot of wolves believed that they would only mate with superior Alpha’s.

While you weren’t going to push away the idea of mating with Jungkook, if anything you were pretty positive that your wolf had long ago picked him, you didn’t like the pressure it placed on him. Nor did you like how you felt like you were manipulating the people who were coming to know and appreciate.

You’d tried not to let it bother you too much and had instead focused on getting to know the people of your town and Pack once more while exploring the budding relationship between Jungkook and you. He was perhaps the sweetest wolf you’d ever met with a pure heart of gold and you adored the gruff exterior he presented to keep away others.

“Here it is.” He says proudly, bringing out a pair of olive green pants that you’d forgotten you even had. How he’d found those, you had no idea but you were pleased to see that you’d had the forethought to at least hang them up, meaning there were currently no wrinkles.

Ideally, you’d obviously have washed them but whatever. As long as it looked good and not like a last minute decision. Smiling brightly at him, you take them and pair them up with the shirt, liking the neutral tones that look like sunshine and earth combining.

“Good decision ‘kook. I like it.” You’d already showered, hence why you were currently wrapped in a towel, and carefully chose some underwear as well. This wasn’t as important obviously and you preferred to be comfortable instead of sexy. Though there were certainly occasions when the latter worked...particularly with a certain wolf.

“I’m gonna go shower quickly and then get dressed. We’re meeting up at the parking lot right?” Jungkook asks, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek to avoid morning breath before heading over to the bathroom. You gave him a nod before he slipped inside and began to get ready, taking a deep breath to steel yourself.

Jimin had moved out two months ago and Jungkook had moved straight in, your relationship deepening even further. You’d say it was fast, but you were probably just used to Jimin and Sana’s snail pace relationship. They’d finally mated though and you’d been informed only last week that you would be able to play with a nephew or niece sooner rather than later.

But logically, you knew that a true mate pairing just knew with each other. And you suspected that had happened with Jungkook. You were taking things slow not only for him, but for yourself to make sure that you weren’t just rushing into something. Which was silly, because your wolf wasn’t going to change her mind anytime soon.

Pulling on your clothes, you accessorise with a few pretty rose gold bracelets and a beautiful necklace with a small, bejewelled hummingbird pendant. Jungkook had bought you it for your six month anniversary, which made you laugh because you didn’t realise he’d been counting, but it was a sweet gesture and worked perfectly with your colour scheme today.

A few touches of make up to your face are finished by the time Jungkook comes out and he snorts at the sight of you nearly finished already. Apparently he was constantly surprised by how quickly you got ready, more used to his mom’s time consuming efforts.

He pulls on a white, button up shirt along with some dark grey skinny jeans. Witnesses aren’t required to dress to a code like the candidates were, but you couldn’t deny that he looked almost outrageously attractive. You didn’t even realise you were growling at a subvocal level until Jungkook looked at you with a grin, drying his hair and styling it to make sure he looked good.

He always looked good though.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’ve placed the lipstick down you were about to put on and are standing in front of him, arms wrapping around his slim waist to hug him. Jungkook hadn’t buttoned his shirt fully yet so none of your makeup got on his pristine shirt but you didn’t particularly care right then.

Humming lightly, you inhaled deeply and took in his scent, body relaxing as your nerves washed away with his presence. This was why you weren’t protesting your wolf’s choice of mate too much, or the fact that she’d become more insistent over the last few weeks. Because he made you feel happy and stress free.

Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what you’d been doing before him.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead wrapping his arms around you in turn and simply hugging you back. The two of you sway slightly as he moves you both and his chest vibrates as he hums a song in his usual habit, the sensation gentle against your ear.

“I love you.” The words fall from your mouth before you even realise what you’re doing and you go to freeze, uncertain if he’d accept the words. Declarations like that were not taken lightly in your world given how mate bonds were permanent. You simply didn’t ‘fall in love’ with someone who your wolf didn’t want and trust implicitly.

Which meant you’d just given the game away to Jungkook. And on this very important day that you had been anxiously waiting for, you now had to comprehend with the fact that you needed to hear whether he would reciprocate or deny. Because it was entirely up to him now.

He could respond, meaning all you would need to do was consummate the bond together later, or he could deny you which would mean your relationship probably wouldn’t last much longer. Swallowing thickly, you wait to see what he’d say.

“I love you too.” They’re so soft and gentle that you almost don’t hear them, even with your superior senses. And you get the impression that he’s a little choked up himself, a little shy and beyond all that, happy with the way his arms tighten around you. It makes you want to cry too but you’ve just put your damn makeup on and you are not going to ruin it when you don’t have time.

Pulling away, you look up at him and bite your lip in excitement, taking in the way his eyes practically glitter with reciprocal emotion. You’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. The two of you move like magnets attracted to one another, lips connecting as if there’s not a force on Earth that could stop you both and you sigh into his mouth happily.

It doesn’t take him long though to gently push you away, his hands firm on your shoulders as you whine at the loss of him. He doesn’t give in though, very carefully directing you back over to the make up he’d distracted you from before kissing your forehead quickly.

“There’s no time for that right now. We can discuss this further after the election, okay?” Jungkook’s voice is soft as he crouches next to you, resting a hand on your thigh and giving you the sweetest smile that makes his eyes positively glow. Resting your hand on his cheek, you stroke the skin there softly before sighing and nodding.

“Well...at least one good thing has happened today.” He laughs at that, standing up to finish dressing while you finish up as well. The two of you chat about the show you’ve both been watching, carefully avoiding any discussion of what had just happened or what was about to happen.

It stays like that until you’re meeting up with your friends and family in the parking lot outside the entrance to the forest. Well, there’s lots of entrances but this was the entrance. The one that led to the ancestral clearing that had been used to determine the leader of the Pack for centuries now. Long ago, the election had actually been a competition in which Alpha’s would fight to claim the leadership.

Those who didn’t submit, or die, won the right to lead. Thankfully, that had been outlawed long ago or you wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of entering the election. The very idea was simply barbaric and despite the fact you turned into a wolf, and had a wolf with her own mind inside you, you were still also human.

“You ready?” Jimin asks, smiling at you reassuringly as he moves over and hugs you tightly. Smiling, you press yourself into your brother and inhale the smell of him, the familial connection helping you to relax. Sana soon joins in the hug and you laugh softly, enveloping her too and taking in the difference of her own scent now that she is pregnant. There were subtle hints of Jimin in there, indicating he was the father and you wanted to squeal with excitement.

You’d been beyond happy that they’d finally bonded together after what seemed an absurd amount of time but you were even happier than they were pregnant. The two of them were going to make fantastic parents and you were beyond excited to be an aunt as well.

Looking back at Jungkook, you reach out for his hand and tug him into the hug too, making him whine before laughing. He was still pretty shy with affection in public, almost like he was afraid that people might make comments about him or something but you weren’t going to let him get away with that right now.

That baby was going to be his nephew or niece too now. Though obviously Jimin and Sana didn’t know that just yet. Still though, they welcomed into the hug with open warmth and you sighed happily as some of the most important people surrounded you with their love and support.

“Thank you all for coming.” You mumble before separating yourself from them and giving your parents a hug as well. They give you their own well wishes and support as well and you chat with them for a few minutes about everything that’s been going on, promising to visit them more often.

“Come on, we’ve got to go.” Sana says suddenly, interrupting you with an apologetic smile before looping her arm through your own. The two of you start doing the dirt trail, quiet for a moment as you take the time to inhale the clean scent of the trees that surround you. Reaching out, you run your hand along the rough bark of the trunk of the nearest one and feel yourself centre with the help of the nature surrounding you.

Generations of wolves had been born, lived and died under the watchful gaze of these trees and you wondered what stories they could tell. The love stories they’d seen or the battles they’d been witness to. What would be the story they were going to see today? Would it be you, taking leadership or someone else?

“You’ll be fine,” Sana whispers to you, giving you a big smile before squeezing your arm reassuringly and you give you a tight smile in response. “Seriously, I think you’re going to do great. You underestimate how popular you are with people.”

“That’s just because I’m with Jungkook.” You mutter, pouting slightly as you contemplate just how much of people's warmth towards you was because of what you had done yourself or because you were dating the pretty and mysterious Omega. Glancing back at him, you watch as he chats with Jimin contentedly, laughing softly at the sight of him so big and broad next to your slight brother.

“You’d never think he was the Omega.” Your best friend muses, her tone light as she looks back too and you nod with a snort. Out of the two of them, Jimin looks like he would be the Omega instead of Jungkook. People would get a shock if they tried to treat Jimin like a submissive though. He’d probably bite their head off first.

Your brother could occasionally have a bit of a temper.

“He puts effort into looking that badass. Works though.” Chuckling, you turn back and take in a deep breath as you spot the opening just ahead. There’s sunlight streaming through, giving everything an almost ethereal look and you bite your lip as trepidation burns in your stomach.

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t win anyway. It’s all fine. I took part and hopefully changed some people’s minds too.” Nodding in confidence, you eye Sana for a moment before pushing at her lightly with affection. She raises her eyebrows at you before grinning and you both burst into nervous giggles.

“Okay, okay. Let’s be serious now. Game faces on. This is important.” You say, holding out your hand in front of your face before bringing it down in a gesture to simulate you getting serious. It makes Sana snort but she doesn’t say anything to contradict you. She knows you’re not entirely confident about this but you don’t want her to say anything about it.

Letting go of her arm, you turn and take a deep breath as you take in the faces of support from everyone you love. Sana’s parents along with Jungkook’s have joined now, having already reached the clearing and moving over to be with your supporters on the outskirts. You give them a nod of acknowledgement and thanks before heading into the centre of the circle of trees.

It’s bigger than you’d expect when you heard the word ‘clearing’. The tall sentinels that stand guard in an almost perfect circle have wide, foreboding trunks that indicate they’re old while the centre is wide enough to have wild grass growing freely. The strands sway slightly in the gentle breeze that filters through the trees and you note that there are a few wildflowers beginning to pop up as well, their colours bright and vibrant against the lush green.

Quiet murmuring and soft discussions mean that you can’t hear any of the natural sounds of the forest, the Pack members who were eligible and able to vote clustered around the outer edges. It always surprised you just how many wolves there were in your Pack, particularly considering it was considered to be small compared to Packs elsewhere.

There were a good few hundred people in the clearing though, making it seem even smaller. Even then, a lot of them were actually in the trees, waiting for their moment to come forward and vote. One day, the Pack wouldn’t be able to fit in this clearing. They were already spilling over the edges and you frowned, wondering when it had all gotten so big.

That was a thought for another day though and instead you simply go round, greeting as many people as you can and giving them your most gracious and humble smile. You would be leading these people if you won, but you would also be serving them too. It’s something a lot of people didn’t seem to realise about leadership positions, that they were designed to serve the very people who put them there.

Most were happy to greet you, giving you equally polite smiles and making small talk while there were a few others a little more frosty. You weren’t surprised that the families of the other candidates, Kim Seokjin and Oh Taewon, weren’t exactly the happiest to see you but there wasn’t exactly a lot you could do about that except be civil.

Soon enough thankfully, the current Pack Alpha is calling for quiet. His strong voice has a deep timbre and is still strong, despite his age. Though that might be because he was using the dominance he’d been born with to reinforce his words and ensure that everyone was listening to him.

A few of the Alphas in the crowd bristled to be ordered about, not exactly an unusual occurrence given the clashes of dominance that could happen. It wasn’t usually a problem but with this many wolves around, the election would have to take place quickly to ensure it didn’t cause any issues such as fights.

The quietest whine from behind you causes you to turn, catching Jungkook’s eyes and taking in the slightly distressed look in them. Almost immediately you feel protective, a need to rush over to him and comfort him. You’d been worried about him coming here, with so many dominant personalities present and how he’d handle it all but he’d been determined to come for you.

When he realises you’re watching him, he gives you a tremulous smile that’s a little weaker than he probably anticipated. It makes your heart clench and you catch Jimin and Sana’s attention subtly, indicating towards your boyfriend who was now fidgeting with his hands. They take approximately a second to realise what’s wrong before nodding at you with a smile, Sana’s arm wrapping around his waist in a hug.

It’s not you, but the comfort of someone he knows and trusts makes him relax and you sigh in relief. The last you needed during this moment was to be constantly fretting over him. As much as you love him, you need to get through this.

Turning back, you stand in between the other two candidates and listen to the current Alpha talks. He explains the history of your Pack along with how important the role of leader is. You zone out for a little bit, the nerves causing you to ignore what he’s saying until you realise people are moving forward slowly.

The way your ancestors had devised the more democratic, and less brutal, method of choosing the new Pack leader was for each member to place a stone in a wooden bowl that was set in front of you. Once everyone had voted, the stones were counted by the current Alpha and the leader declared. In case of a tie, the vote was decided by the Pack Alpha, who didn’t vote normally.

As people came forward and voted, you decided that while you appreciated the concept of voting, you didn’t particularly appreciate having to actively watch as people you had come to know voted for others. It was beyond awkward as you tried to avoid eye contact while also making sure you didn’t appear too upset or offended.

But what surprised you more than anything was the fact that...you seemed to be winning? The stones in your bowl were growing more and more plentiful while your opponents had only handfuls each. Frowning ever so slightly, you realised with a start that at this rate, they wouldn’t even need to count the stones. It was that obvious.

Instead of fretting over that, you focused instead on who was giving you their trust and loyalty. The people who were telling you that they thought you were the best Alpha to lead them forward, despite how you’d always been considered a lesser Alpha in the past. Part of you, the part that didn’t think you were ready, wondered how much of their choice had been impacted by Jungkook.

Shaking your head slightly, you pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter at the end of the day. If the final votes kept up like they did, then Kim Seokjin and Oh Taewon were going to be congratulating you on your win and acknowledging your leadership. You, the Alpha who defied all stereotypes.

Smiling slightly to yourself, you looked down at the ground as the final votes slowly trickled in. The win was to such an extent that your bowl looked like it was in serious danger of overflowing and you felt almost embarrassed at it. Glancing over to the other two candidates, you saw them give you a warm smile before they both walked over to give you a congratulatory handshake.

Given how temperamental Alpha’s could be, you were thankful that both Seokjin and Taewon were magnanimous and kind in defeat. Though you supposed that only level-headed Alpha’s would even be allowed to contest the election. No point allowing a candidate who was a hothead and would start a fight just because they lost.

Still, you made sure to be warm and welcoming to them both to avoid any future awkwardness. He current Pack leader, or rather the previous now, didn’t even bother counting the stones and instead moved over to you with a wide grin. Once you’d finished talking with Seokjin and Taewon, he grasped your hand and lifted it high above your head.

“I think this is probably the easiest victory in a while. Which is a testament to the popularity of Y/N and the strong belief that she will lead this pack in a positive way for the future. With this, I officially relinquish my role as leader and bestow it to you. May you experience good health, a fortuitous life and no troubles.” He smiles at you as you have the bizarre knowledge that you’re now higher ranking than he is. This is the wolf who has led the Pack since before you were even born, the wolf you had acquiesced to every time when he made a decree. And yet now, he bowed to you.

Well, he didn’t actually bow. But the metaphor was the same. Eyes widening at the thought, you accept his words before turning to look at the Pack. Your Pack. Catching the sight of your family, you see the tears of joy and pride your mom and dad cry while Jimin beams so brightly at the knowledge his little sister had actually done it.

And then you see Jungkook, who’s smiling so brightly at you that his nose is all wrinkled and his eyes have disappeared into the sweetest crescent moons. His cheeks are flushed with a combination of happiness and what you presume to be stress from the presence of so many dominant personalities but he pushes through it for you, focusing firmly on you as he cheers and howls alongside the rest of the Pack as they celebrate.

Getting them to calm down with a gesture, you laugh as the howls continue for a moment before stopping and simply look over the wolves who are now yours. Yours to rule and nourish, protect and discipline if necessary. It’s a big ask for someone who’s simply a teacher, but if you can handle a day full of moody teenagers then really, the Pack would almost be a vacation.

“Thank you, for putting your trust into me to lead you. I will try my best to be fair and kind, an Alpha who you can come to with your worries and stresses. I know that many of you may question me given...how I don’t appear like other Alpha’s but I promise you that I am just as ready to protect and fight for you if necessary. I am here for you and I will respect each of you. In turn, I expect equal amounts of respect back. I may be your leader, but I am not your ruler. Please, if you have any concerns then bring them to me sooner rather than later. And with that, I think that’s enough of discussing politics for the day. I’m sure you’re all waiting to go back to your homes and have your parties so...please enjoy.” Grinning, you stifle the laugh that wants to erupt at the enthusiastic howls and yells from many in the crowd as they begin to disperse.

Election day in your Pack had long been a day that everyone would take off from their normal work, turning it into a day of voting in the morning and partying in the evening to celebrate the election of their new leader. You would spend a few hours visiting random parties tonight throughout the town, making an appearance to them and showing that you were there before settling in at the party your parents would be hosting.

Glancing over at Jungkook, you bit your lip as anticipation roiled in your stomach. Under normal circumstances, the next few hours would be a breeze as you socialised and got to know people. You may not particularly enjoy it, but you were well versed in how to do it thanks to your job. But today?

Today you just wanted to rush home and into the arms of Jungkook. Because tonight you had more important things to do than having a party. Tonight, you were going to join together as mates for the very first time.

You wish that you could say that you enjoyed the parties that you went to that night, but it would be a complete lie to be honest. What you really want to do is get home, spend some time with your family and friends while you were still in a content and happy mood before spending the night with one Jeon Jungkook.

But you were, after all, the leader now. So you didn’t get to be selfish when it came to things like this. Though you kind of wished that you could because as much as you’d ended up wanting this role despite only doing it because Jimin had bugged you enough to sign up, some of the people in the Pack weren’t very accommodating to you. Or even nice really.

You were generalising really, because the vast majority of wolves who you had met and spoken to tonight had been very sweet and congratulatory towards you. Many of them had openly told you that they’d voted for you, leading to you awkwardly thanking them for their support. A lot of them had laughed at your uncertainty regarding their words but they seemed to appreciate how genuine you were being.

Perhaps they thought you might have ended up being like another Alpha who was brusque and almost rude, as if their support was never in question. There were plenty like that in the Pack and you were glad to give them someone who defied their expectations.

But after three hours of driving around town and greeting people, you were just ready to leave. So you give a polite smile to the young couple whose barbecue you’d crashed along with all of their friends and family, including their grandparents who had haughtily told you that they’d voted for Kim Seokjin, a real Alpha.

That had just amused you and you’d shrugged apologetically when they’d told you, telling them that you’d do the best you could for them to meet their expectations. Of course, they’d just sniffed at that but you didn’t see any point in trying to change their mind.

After finally saying goodbye to everyone there, you hop into your car and drive to your parents house with a relieved sensation in your stomach. Pulling up into their drive, you smile brightly at the sight of the cars of all your beloved friends and family, realising that they’d all congregated here for what must have been hours now.

“Ah, here she is. Our noble Alpha.” Greeted you when you walk through the door, Jimin’s bright smile accompanies his sugary sweet words and you snort in amusement, punching his stomach lightly as he goes to hug you. The whine he lets out is overly exaggerated but he embraces you tightly, his emotions genuine.

“Seriously, congrats. Told you that you could do it.” Rolling your eyes at him, you acknowledge his words with a nod before hugging Sana just as tight. She’s already babbling on about the election and how she’d thought it was going to be tense but that you’d made history with the landslide. Of course, she then starts to suggest laws that she’d like to have in place and you take her hands gently, squeezing them.

“Hey, hey. Sana...I love you, but can I please at least have tonight? We can talk about laws tomorrow, I promise you. Okay?” She pouts slightly, her pretty pink lips giving away her eagerness and you just chuckle.

“Sweetheart, what did we say about talking law tonight?” Jimin asks his mate, brows rising slightly with an expectant look and you watch in fascination as your best friend pouted even further, her shoulders dropping.

“To leave it alone for the night. But it’s important we get started on the right foot!” She protests, looking from him to you and you just smile at her. Jimin sighs deeply before wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek affectionately.

“Peanut, I love you, I really do. But I’m sure that Y/N has had a really tiring day and probably just wants to go round and say hi to everyone before dragging Jungkook off.” He’s looking firmly at Sana when he says that but you feel yourself go warm with embarrassment at his words. Not that he’d said anything crude out loud, but because he was perfectly right.

You did want to drag Jungkook off, because you had something very important to do with him. So you take Jimin’s words as permission and give them both a warm smile of happiness before hugging them both tightly together.

“Thank you both for all your support these last few months. I really mean it. I couldn’t have done any of this without you both. Especially you, you weasel. It’s because of you that I probably am going to have a massive headache and a short temper 24/7 with the Pack. I’ve already met some grouchy folk so I’m sure it’s going to be fun.” Jimin laughs loudly at that, his eyes almost disappearing with the intensity of his emotion and he squeezes you even tighter round the neck, causing you to yell as he drags you down.

“That’ll be nothing for my little sister. She’ll put them straight, won’t she?” He teases and you growl, the sound rumbling from your chest without even meaning it. But the wolf inside you is displeased at being caught like this, being restrained, and so before Jimin realises what’s happening, you’ve grabbed his arm and twisted with an enormous amount of force and strength.

A cry leaves him as he gets flung over your body, his ass thumping the ground hard as he lays there with a stunned expression. Not that he should be too surprised really. You’ve done this with him plenty of times over the years so he really should be used to being thrown around by his smaller, younger sister.

Still, it makes Sana laugh with wild abandon at the sight of seeing her mate so thoroughly put in his place. Grinning at her, you give her a high five before heading further into the house and saying hello to the people closest to you.

Your parents give you the tightest hug possible and you can practically feel the pride dripping of them, that their little girl is now the leader of their Pack. It was something they’d told you that you could do as a child but you doubted they’d have ever considered you were actually going to go for it.

“Are you going to quit teaching now? Being the leader is basically a full time job.” Your dad asks, a frown on his face as concern fills his expression. Humming, you shake your head with a smile before squeezing the hand of Jungkook. He’d been talking to them when you’d arrived and had slipped his hand into yours as soon as he’d been able to, the pride in his face possibly equal to the one in theirs.

“No. But I will transfer to the high school here instead. And maybe teach some classes at the local community college for anyone who wants them. I still love teaching and I don’t want to give it up. If anything, I think I want to encourage more people in the Pack to learn. I’m considering offering some cultural lessons to try and broaden the minds of some of our more...reticent members. Maybe offer cultural exchanges by inviting other Pack’s to send a representative and tell us how they operate and live. You know...every little helps right?” Your mom is nodding thoughtfully, her arm looped through your dad's arm and you feel pride at knowing she approved of your thoughts.

“Sounds like a good idea. There’s plenty of people that need to be dragged into the 20th century in our Pack, never mind the 21st century. So if you can succeed in that, then I’ll be a very proud dad.” He grins before hugging you, and you contemplate the fact that you’ve probably never had this much physical contact in years.

“Anyway, as much as I love you all and this is a great party, I’ve already been fed about six times by now so I’m ridiculously full and I’m tired. Are you okay if Jungkook and I head off? I know I’ve barely been-” You barely even get the words out before your mom is pushing Jungkook and you with a tut, rolling her eyes.

“Honestly, you don’t need to apologise. It’s been a big day. For both of you. I’m proud of you too Jungkook, for doing so well with everyone there. So I want you both to go home and just relax! You’ve done enough for today.” Snorting, you let her practically push you out of the door while you manage to wave your goodbyes to everyone, noting the amused expressions on their faces as well.

Getting into the car once more, you turn and look at Jungkook with raised brows. “Ironic that I’ve spent more time with other people at their parties today than with my own parents at my own party.”

“Hey, they understand. Don’t be too worried about it. They’d already told me that they planned on sending you home as soon as you got here to be honest. We all knew you’d be a bit tired and stressed after it all and I don’t think anyone wanted to cause you anymore anxiety than needed after what’s happened.” He says thoughtfully, running his fingers over his lower lip and you hum quietly.

“Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you since I left. It was a lot to take in and you did so well Kook. I’m really proud of you. I can only imagine how hard it was to be there with almost the whole Pack, all those different personalities and dominance battles going on.” Your voice goes soft with worry and you see him smile out of the corner of your eye, reaching out for your hand and intertwining your fingers once more.

“It was hard, yeah. I wanted to run away for most of it but I’ve got a reputation to uphold you know? I’m an Omega, yeah, but I'm also a badass,” He puffs his chest out at that and you snort, gently pushing at him without taking your eyes away from the road too much. “Seriously though, I’m really proud of you too. You were so convinced that no one was going to vote for you because of who you are and how you don’t meet the stereotypes others have for you but...you were wrong. And now you’re our lovely leader.”

“Yeah...you’re right.” Silence falls between you both but it’s not uncomfortable, instead it’s familiar and comforting. Sighing softly, you run your thumb along the back of his hand before smiling once more. You’d managed to do it, despite a year ago being convinced that you wouldn’t even be considered. And along the way, you’d found your mate.

“This morning...what you said...do you still think that?” Jungkook’s voice is soft now and you pause at his words, thinking back and remembering the intimate moment you’d both had in your bedroom. It felt so long ago now, but those emotions came swarming back with a vengeance as you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building.

“Every word.” Turning the engine off, you look at him with a serious expression and he swallows thickly. His eyes are wide, reflecting the light from the nearby buildings and you feel your heart positively clench at how beautiful he looks. It’s not that he’s innocent, because he’s not, but it’s like he has an innate curiosity and wonder about the world that his eyes can’t seem to hide. As if he wants to learn and see everything before his time ends and you want so desperately to give that to him.

“Me too.” He whispers and you don’t stop yourself from leaning forward in your seat, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is gentle and yet needy at the same time. The underlying ‘I love you’ is so prominent between you both and you feel the need to mark him. To make him yours and show the whole world that he chose you.

Pulling back, you look at him at him intently and see the way he swallows at whatever he sees in your own eyes. Nipping at his lip playfully, you nose along his cheek before biting softly at his jawline and enjoying the way he gasps.

Sex with Jungkook is more than satisfying and you’ve been pleased to discover that he’s not as submissive as he looks in that department either. There’s days when he takes control and you love it almost as much as the days that he lets you wreak havoc with him. But today is a day when your base instincts will take over, the wolf inside you demanding you dominate your mate to show him that you were capable of protecting him, of loving him and keeping him safe.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s own wolf was obviously telling him to go along with his own instincts as well as he leans his head to one side, revealing the wonderful expanse of golden tan skin stretched over the strong tendons and muscles of his neck. The beautiful skin that is currently unmarked.

“We need to go inside. Now.” You growl and he nods immediately, hands grasping at the door handle before you even finish and you almost want to laugh at his eagerness. But you don’t, because you’re following him every step of the way, almost stalking his steps like the predator you truly were.

The idea of doing this to him normally would be horrifying because it would immediately set off his Omega instincts. And no matter how much he’s managed to suppress them over the years, no matter how much he can pass for something other than what he is, he is still an Omega at the end of the day.

But tonight, the tension in his shoulders wasn’t from fear. It was from anticipation. And from the way he looked back at you with eagerness in those pretty eyes, you got the sense that he was turning this into a little game. The rumble of appreciation rolls from your chest before you even realise and you bite your lip at the sight of him shuddering when you reach the apartment door.

Getting your keys into the door is a bit of a challenge when your mind is solely focused on him. You finally do it though and as soon as the door latches shut behind you, you turn and pull him down for another kiss.

This one is deeper than before and more frantic, the need to join stronger than ever. The two of you leave a trail of clothes through the apartment as you move to the bedroom, his shirt torn from the force of your pull. Humming happily at the feel of smooth, warm skin beneath your palms, you nip at his collarbones playfully and delight in the way he squirms and whines for you.

Running your hands down his toned and muscular stomach, you reach the waistband of his boxers and eagerly pull them down. They slip past his slim hips with complete ease and you resist the urge to salivate at the sight of his cock, bouncing gently as it strains against gravity.

Jungkook is not a stereotypical Omega. He is tall, broad, muscular, tattooed, has a black belt in taekwondo and will snap at anyone if pushed. And his cock is just as beautifully magnificent as the rest of him, not too long to be painful but beautifully girthy and with the most delightful veins that make him whine when you trace over them. In a simple word, Jungkook is physically perfect.

"You're so damn beautiful," The words slip from your mouth reverently and you press your lips to the dip in his hips to a kiss that turns into a nip. "You're perfect and all for me, aren't you?"

As you whisper words of affection, praise and dominance into his skin, you wrap your fingers around his shaft and stroke slowly. The whine he gives it like music to your ears and you growl in appreciation, licking along his stomach before rewarding him with one, slow glide of your tongue along the underside of his cock.

He sighs in contentment at that, his hands clenching and opening repeatedly as he struggles to find something to do with them and you laugh. Pulling back, you stand once more and point to the bed.

"Lay down for me, pretty boy." You almost don't manage to get the words out before he's practically throwing himself on the bed and you have to stop yourself from snorting and ruining the mood. His eagerness to please suddenly is endearing and this is the one Omega stereotype you're glad he embodies.

The sight of him laid out on the bed, his skin almost glowing with health from the soft lighting of the bedside lamp he’d turned on, has you almost turning into a cat as you practically purr in contentment at the sight of him. His big, sweet eyes are focused firmly on you while his cock strains against his stomach, desperate for your touch.

“Good boy.” You praise him sweetly, running your hand along the muscle of his calf and biting your lip at the way he shivers in response. Slowly, you remove the final pieces of your own clothing and delight at the way Jungkook lets out the softest keen at the sight of the damp spot in your panties, a visible sign of just how unbelievably wet you were for him.

It didn’t take much for him to get you going, you’d discovered this in the past, but there’s something particularly delightful about him today. You may not be a typical Alpha but you’d be damned if Jungkook’s willingness to submit right now wasn’t hitting every dominant bone in your body.

Kneeling on the bed next to him, you continue to let your fingers dance along his body in a slow, steady exploration that only heightens his arousal. Everywhere you touch tenses beneath your fingertips and you don’t miss the way his hips subtly move, trying to catch your attention and give him the blessed relief he wants.

But you don’t want to yet. You want to make him desperate for you, to make him whine and pout and cry out for your touch before you finally mark him. The wolf in you demands it, demands his full submission as your mate and you want it as well. From the look of pure need in Jungkook’s eyes, he wants it just as much.

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you dart away from him quickly when he goes to follow and smile at the whine he gives you. Tutting quietly, you begin to kiss down his body in hot, open mouthed kisses that leave a slick mess to follow, a few spots darkening from where your kiss had been particularly forceful.

“What do you want, baby boy? Tell me.” You whisper, biting gently at his hip and enjoying the way he writhes beneath you. There’s almost zero resistance before he’s speaking to you, the subtle whine in his voice telling you he’s trying to hold back.

“I want you. Please. Please. I love you, please.” Pursing your lips, you move down till you’re kissing along his inner thigh, enjoying the way his muscles twitch with need. There’s no missing the way his cock jerks occasionally, his balls tight and firm in your eyesight and you resist the urge to play with them. Not yet.

“Tell me what you want.” The words are repeated back to him and now Jungkook does let out a whine, the sound strained in his throat with frustration and need. But he responds to you perfectly, causing you to grin.

“Please touch my dick. Jerk me off. Lick it. Put your mouth on it. Anything. Please.” He mutters a few more times, almost praying to you with how much he wants your touch on his cock and you pause for a moment to watch him. His face is ever so slightly flushed while his hair isn’t as put together anymore, his hands having ruined what he’d carefully arranged this morning.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You purr to him, voice going low. It’s not really because he asked, but more because you can’t handle not touching him anymore. Not when you want him this badly.

Grasping his cock at the base once more, you give him a slow stroke while squeezing tightly, enjoying how he gasps. A second stroke has his hips jerking, but not nearly as much as when you lick him from bottom to tip, flattening your tongue to try and reach as much of him as you can. The noises he makes are nothing though compared to when you wrap your lips around his head, engulfing him in your mouth and sucking tightly.

It’s pure enjoyment from your part as you take in how he reacts, moving your hand to meet your lips in a rhythm that’s perfect for you both. Head lowering, you press your tongue to him as hard as you can on the way down before hollowing out your cheeks as you rise back up, trying to increase the amount of pressure he’s feeling. The gasps tell you he likes it and you hum, adding vibration to the mix while your free hand moves to cup his balls, running your fingers along him until you find what really makes his hips jerk.

For a few minutes, you continue on like this. Changing up the speed with which you tug on him, the pressure you apply to his cock and how you play with his balls to make sure he doesn’t get too complacent or too near completion. It would ruin the fun if he came too early.

Pulling off him, you begin to lick at his tip almost like you’re enjoying an ice cream, eyes closing as you let your tongue slide around the head of him and find all the places that make him quiver with need. Your hand slows on him as well, squeezing the base of him tightly to stop him from reaching his end if he is near and the reduction in pleasure has him whining your name.

“Please, please. Oh god, please fuck me. Please. I want to be inside you.” He begs desperately, his hands moving to grasp at the covers of the bed as you press kisses to his cock, letting go of it and enjoying the way it stands for a moment for falling back to his stomach with a wet slap from the weight of it. Smirking, you sit up and wipe at your mouth before looking down at him.

His pupils have blown out from lust while his cheeks are a beautiful, rosy pink and his chest is breathing a little heavier than before. Moving over him, you carefully avoid his cock as you lean down to kiss along his neck, biting gently and sucking in other places before moving up to his mouth. It’s already swollen from your previous kiss and the way he keeps biting at them, but it doesn’t stop you from nibbling on his lower lip.

“You want to be inside of me? Do you think you deserve to be in me, baby boy?” You ask the question lightly, whispering the words into his ear and he shivers in response. Jungkook is nodding before you’ve even finished speaking and you hide your smile.

“Yes, yes please. I’ve been good. I was good today, right? Please. Please let me.” Sitting back up, you lift yourself and grasp his cock, straightening it till the tip is brushing against your wet folds. The slight sensation has him making the strangest noises, his throat tight while his hips try to push up and you tut at him.

“Stop pushing. We go at my pace, okay?” He settles down, forcing himself to be still at the thread of dominance you weave through your words before nodding. Feeling a little bad that you’d done that, you lean forward and kiss him gently.

“I’ve got you baby boy, don’t worry. I love you.” You try not to grin at how he almost preens at that, his chest pushing out while happiness and pride fills his eyes. Despite the lust rushing through your body and the incessant desire that makes your pussy ache to have him inside you, your chest feels full of love for him.

Slowly, you lower yourself onto his cock. There’s no foreplay for you, but then you don’t need it given how wet you already are for him. Slowly, he penetrates you inch by inch and you let you the deepest sigh of relief once you’re finally seated on him, clit rubbing against his pelvis as you lean forward ever so slightly.

You feel full and an experimental squeeze of your muscles has slight pleasure rolling through you while Jungkook moans at being so deep inside your warm depths. Biting your lip, you rock your hips slowly and feel the perfect friction as his cock slides out of you before pushing back in just as deep. The slickness of your excitement allows him to glide with each and you hum at how good he feels.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good in me,” Panting slightly, you slowly speed up your movements until the room is filled with the lewd sound of him slipping in and out of your soaked pussy. “Mmmm, Jungkook. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Half of you isn’t even actually sure what you’re saying anymore to be honest, the sensation of him inside you as you fuck him is all you can really focus on and you’re just saying whatever comes to you. But it’s all praise for the man beneath you, the man who is grasping the sheets so hard to avoid touching you yet because you haven’t given him permission to.

Who is holding himself so steady to avoid pushing up into you, letting you use his body however you want. You love it and opening your eyes, you tell him so while shifting, leaning forwards ever so slightly to lightly scrape your nails along his chest. It makes him writhe and whimper, the sound deep from his throat and you automatically squeeze around his cock when you hear it.

“Good boy.” You whisper absentmindedly, your fingers reaching down to rub at the swollen flesh of your clit. It’s almost hard beneath your touch from how turned on you are and you slick your fingers in the sticky mess before rubbing in a rhythmic circle that has you gasping and tightening.

Rocking your hips on top of him, you take all the pleasure that you can get and slowly, your movements begin to match so every circle of your fingers is complemented by a rock of your hips. You mix it up occasionally, circling your hips and sighing in relief at how Jungkook’s cock presses against every part inside of you that sparks fires of pleasure.

“Touch me Jungkook. I want your hands here,” You take one of them and press it to one of your breasts, making his fingers twist and pull at your nipple in exactly the way you love. “And here.”

His other hand goes to your clit and you press his fingers in exactly the manner that you enjoy the most. It feels even better with the extra stimulation and you whine loudly, the sound mixing with your gasps as you feel almost overwhelmed.

“Are you close?” You whisper to him, opening your eyes after a few minutes of enjoying some of the best sex you’ve ever had with him and he nods quickly. His eyes are scrunched close, jaw tight as he clenches his teeth together in a desperate effort to control himself. Your wolf growls at the sight of it and you feel your chest rumble too, the sound causing Jungkook’s hip to push up automatically.

“I want you to knot me,” Moving to almost lay on him, you kiss and nip at his jaw insistently as his eyes widen suddenly at your words. “I want you to fill me up with your cum until you’re spilling out of me.”

“Seriously?” He pants and his hands still on yours. Looking into his eyes, those beautiful eyes that you love so much, you nod and kiss him deeply. Tangling your tongue with his, your hands move to cup his cheeks almost tenderly as the kiss takes over your thought process. Your hips slow down until you’re simply rolling them, your clit getting the pleasure of rubbing against him and it suddenly changes from sexy to intimate.

Parting from his lips, you pant softly, chest heaving from the effort of riding him for so long before nodding. “I want you to cum in me, and I want your knot. I want you to breed me while I bond with you, fill me up with your pups. Do you understand me?”

His eyes are bigger than ever and you wonder if he’s about to say no or something. Knotting is only done when you’re trying to impregnate and you want that desperately, want to feel him swell inside you until you can’t even move while he fills you up with rope after rope of thick cum. The thought of almost intoxicating and you tighten around him.

“Give me your knot baby, give it to me. I know you can. Don’t you want to give me pups? Watch me grow with them, all with the knowledge that they’re yours? See your Alpha, your leader, all swollen with your pups while I deal with everyone, knowing that they can see I’m yours?” The dirty, dark words whispered into his ear work and he lets out a deep growl of his own, the first time you’ve ever heard him growl.

His hands grasp at your hips, holding you steady as he begins to thrust up into you and you moan in delight at the increased sensations. You encourage him along, nipping at his jaw and continuing to coax him to knot you as you squeeze on his cock tightly, trying to encourage him and you finally begin to feel it.

It starts almost slowly and you’re not sure it’s happening at first, but then you’re certain his cock is beginning to swell in you. Reaching between you both, you rub at your clit exactly how you like as he continues to expand slowly, his jaw clenched so tightly. Any sign of the sweet, innocent Omega you’d fallen for is gone at the moment and you could easily mistake him for an Alpha with how strong he looks.

His hair is matted to his forehead, the strands ink black while his skin shines with the sweat he’s worked up and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen a hotter sight. Though looking between you both and taking in the sight of his cock thrusting into your pussy, there may be one thing hotter.

“Cum for Jungkook. Knot your mate.” Panting into his ear, they must be the magic words because he pushes into you harder than ever, pressing down on your hips to keep you in place while he swells inside you. A deep moan that sounds like it’s been pulled from his chest comes from him and you shudder as your own release takes over, pussy tightening around him as your orgasm washes through you.

Before it finishes, you snarl softly and bare your teeth, the fangs that have grown suddenly biting into the soft skin of Jungkook’s neck as you mark him. He stiffens momentarily before letting out a ridiculously loud groan, his knot growing even bigger and you hum contentedly as you practically feel him orgasming inside you.

The remnants of your own orgasm continue to rush through you and are intensified when Jungkook bites back at your own neck. Almost immediately, you feel the mate bond snap into place between the two of you as you mark each other at the point of orgasm. There’s no ceremony, no special words, just pure instinct that drives you both to fulfil this need.

Pulling your fangs from him, you slowly lick at his neck to help the wounds to heal while he does the same to you. Warmth fills you with the knowledge he’s your mate now while you can feel the oddest sensation of the knowledge that someone else occupies space within you now. You can’t talk to him telepathically or anything like the books, but it’s more just an awareness that he’s there.

A bottomless pit of love and protection for him along with an oath to love only him for as long as you live.

Resting against him, you take a moment to simply enjoy the feeling of being on him while his knot continues to keep you held in place. The knowledge that he could even now be impregnating you is hot and you sluggishly lift your head up to gaze into his own tired eyes. Jungkook gives you a slow smile and you kiss him lazily, realising the sensation feels a little different now that you’re bonded.

“I love you.” You whisper, your dominant flair vanishing in the comfort of his embrace as he wraps his arms to simultaneously hug you and keep you in place to avoid you hurting yourself. A gentle kiss is pressed to your nose before he kisses you once more, a quiet hum of contentment leaving him.

“I love you too.” Neither of you say anything after that, simply enjoying each other as you wait for his knot to go down. When it finally does, there’s an almost uncomfortable feeling as a rush of his cum begins to seep out of you and onto him. You’re used to him orgasming inside you, knotting was the only way to get pregnant and wolves didn’t get STI’s like humans after all, but this was entirely different.

“God, how much did you cum?” Laughing, you shift until you can see between you both. His cock has slipped out of you now, resting against his thigh and shiny with your own excitement. But your thighs and his groin are beginning to become covered in white cum as it drips out of you.

“Well...you did tell me to get you pregnant.” Is all he says, his face innocent and you laugh loudly at that. Nodding slowly, you kiss him once more and enjoy how comfortable he is with you. There’s not much you wouldn’t do for him, you decide to yourself.

“I guess I did. You did a good job...baby boy.” Teasing him for how much he likes his submissive nickname, you watch as his face screws up into a scowl and he goes to reach for you. But you dance out of the way, moving off the bed and heading to the bathroom while he whines quietly.

“Please don’t call me that in public. I’d never live it down.” He begs and you pause at the door frame, looking back at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Well...I guess the only solution to that is that you give me a reason to make sure I only use it in private...right?”

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