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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

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

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

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

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

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

word count: 24.2k

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

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

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

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

Harry still hates clubs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lock the door on your way out!”

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first thing he notices is the dress.

Fuck, the dress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far from it, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like your dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It felt really nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

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

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

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

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

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7.

I’ll see you there, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

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

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

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

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

Sounds good to me, Sherlock.

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hands off.”

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

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

“Ask for permission.”

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

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need interior design advice.

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

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

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

Genuinely?

Yup!

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

Alright, shoot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immature?

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

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks.

Alright, go head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touché.

Exactly.

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

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

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

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

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

Maybe.

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

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read my mind.

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

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

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

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

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

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

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

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

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m going to call you.

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

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

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

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

2K notes · View notes

damn-stark · 3 years ago

Text

Slytherin vs. Gryffindor

Chapter 16 of Different light

A/N- Got to enjoy the last happy moments in this series while we can :):

Warning- Angst, Fluff!

Pairing- Harry Potter x Malfoy!reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Darkness caved in the class whilst thick white smoke slowly crept out of the cabinet and filled the room in an eerie presence. The whispers of curious students who anxiously waited to see what scared you, slowly died down and instead let silence echo loudly in the class.

Fear was the lesson for today’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. Snape said that fear is a weakness, and we must all face our fear to grow stronger in these troubled times. And you knew your fear, you’ve met your fear. And yet you didn’t grow strong either of the times you’ve seen him. Doubtful that much would change now as you faced the Boggart.

You wanted to just leave class, you were filled with the temptation. Yet you stood still as you watched the thick white smoke turn green, casting the room in its bright green hue and cloud in front of you. It took a moment to take form, the smoke just slowly floated towards you, causing you to swallow thickly and curiously step forward to pull your arm from your side and hesitantly reach your fingers towards the smoke.

At first you expected to feel nothing, but the moment your fingers went through the thick green smoke the tip of your fingers began to sting sharply. You pulled your hand back and found that the moment you did, the pain ceased to exist, your fingers didn’t throb, or burn anymore. But that was it right, the fear, it poisoned your mind. It made you believe that the smoke was something painful when it really wasn’t, when it really was something much worse.

The moment you tore your eyes from your fingers and looked up to the smoke, you saw it hastily form into Voldemort and Nagini. Their bodies and faces perfectly vivid in front of you. You tried to raise your wand to say the spell to get rid of what taunted you, to transform them into something funny, but the forms in front of you were paralyzing; they made your breath catch in your throat and your heart violently thump inside your chest. Everything around you blended with the dark room as your eyes solely focused on Voldemort and Nagini.

Professor Snape tried to snap you out of the spell fear casted upon you, but his voice just travelled to the back of your head. All you could do was watch as Voldemort's cold eyes pierced into your soul and Nagini slithered towards you, stopping a few inches before you and raising her head to snap at you and make you flinch back.

Again you could do nothing but stand there until Snape stepped in and made the boggart disappear, relieving your withered soul and letting you release a shaky breath of air whilst your focus returned to your surroundings. A fact that let you hear the whispers behind you, see Snape's dark soulless eyes burn into you and trigger you to hastily run out of the class and go to a lonely dimly lit hall.

You proceeded to check that no one was close by before you pressed your back on the stone wall to slide down to the floor, basking in the silence and loneliness to gently touch the scar on your cheek created by the man you feared. Soon thereafter following by lowering your hand and your eyes to look at your arm, hesitating for a few seconds before you slowly pulled the left sleeve that covered your skin to show yourself the black brand that was on your arm. Knowing that it was a cruel reminder that’d you always face your fear.

As long as he was alive you’d have to live with your fear.

——

“How about,” you pause and hesitate, softening your voice and hearing a faint quiver in your tone. “How about we send it to him some way? I don’t trust just letting someone deliver it. It’s too dangerous.”

“Have you gone soft?” Draco scolds you as he swings back to shoot you a narrowed gazed. “If we send it, we’d get caught, our mission would fail and…” Draco pauses this time and his blue eyes drop to the package in your hand before his shoulders stiffened and he finished his comment. “He would kill us.” His gaze lifts to meet yours and his eyes harden on you again. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so,” his voice rises, causing you to glance out the creek of the door to make sure no one was walking by so you could step toward your brother and shush him.

“Draco, not so loud,” you say in a loud whisper. “They'll hear you.”

Said boy scoffs and rolls his eyes, stepping back to continue. “There's no room for the weak, do it, or die yourself.”

You stay quiet for a moment and challenge his gaze, seeing his hand inch towards the package in your hand before you pull it closer towards you and let out a deep groan. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Draco pulls his hand away and fixes his coat instead, nodding stiffly and pointing his head to the door before he lets out a quick comment. “Be careful.”

Your lips twitch slightly and you playfully hit his shoulder. “I will.” You offer him a quick assuring look before you turn to try to head out the door, albeit stopping as he speaks up.

“Perhaps I should do it instead,” Draco swallows thickly, his steps towards you echoing in the unoccupied room in the Three broomsticks. “You still seem hesitant and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

You look over your shoulder to meet his concerned gaze. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, turning his eyes away and shoving his hands in his pants pockets to finally let you leave. And it wasn’t an easy task, as you walked out the door it felt as if your feet were being weighed down by the weight of your guilt, every second of that short walk to the kitchen was a cruel torture. The smile that had been plastered on your lips was lost the moment you shut the door. Your mission became your priority and also your biggest regret.

But Draco was right. It was either do, or die. No room for mistakes or second chances.

Sometimes you thought though, when you were doing these secret endeavors, why you couldn’t have been born in a different family. You loved your family, yes, but it was because you were a Malfoy that this responsibility was laid upon you. It was just a passing thought, it appeared but usually disappeared like the wind.

Just like it did now as you entered the kitchen. You waited for Rosmerta in the shadows of the room with your wand in hand, taking note of her tardiness and growing angsty on getting this over with. It had felt like hours until she stumbled into the kitchen, when in reality it was only a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she stammered, her eyes instantly finding the package in your hand before she looked at you as she waited by the door.

“It doesn’t matter,” you mutter whilst you push yourself from the corner of the room to lift your wand and point it at her body, “this will just take a few seconds.” You narrow your gaze and block out any emotions that could spoil your plan. You become cold and unhesitant. “Imperio.” You command, stepping forward and slightly tilting your head to continue, “you’ll give this opal necklace to a student you seem fit, hex them and have them deliver it to Dumbledore.” You swallow thickly and drop your hand to put your wand away and walk past her, stopping just as you push the door open. “Don’t waste anymore time.”

“I won’t waste more time,” she slowly repeats in a monotone-like voice. You add nothing else in return and hastily exit the kitchen room to stride back to Draco, feeling the guilt you had tried to hold back slam down on you and causing tears to sting your eyes after you dropped the cold demeanor you tried to act on before.

It was hard to hold back your tears, to break down in that cold hall. But you had to show yourself and Draco that you were strong. Because you were. You were. You could do this.

“You did it?” Draco’s voice registers in your head as you absentmindedly enter the same room you had left him in.

Your eyes slowly drag up to his face and you nod once. “I did it.” You sigh and avert your gaze. “Can we go now? I have work to do.”

Draco’s silence echoes in the room as his eyes search your face, as he tries to read the emotions that were spilt all over your watery eyes. But he wasn’t able to look at your eyes to receive his answer. Leading him to instead sigh, “yeah. We wouldn’t want to get caught.” He walks past you and holds the door open so you could walk out first and hastily lead the way out of the Three broomsticks, with your head hung low. Unknowingly passing Harry and friends in the same pub.

Not like you were paying attention to who was in the pub, or really in the mood to talk to anyone at all. Draco had made a sly comment about seeing Harry, but you were thinking of other things to even capture what Draco had been mumbling about. All you wanted to do was get away from the pub and return to the comfort of school. Or really your dorm.

It was there where you did the opposite of what you told Draco you were going to do; where you could block out everything in the protection of your bed and under the security of your blankets. Where you could numb yourself to feel nothing at all, to avoid the guilt you were riddled with as you watched the candlelight dance on the black brand on your arm. And perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea, but it felt like the best. All until Clementine came to drag you out of your secluded bubble.

“What are you doing?” She questions as she yanks the blanket off your body. “It’s dinner time, you’ve already missed lunch and our study date, are you okay?”

“No,” grumble as you roll to your other side. “I feel sick.”

Clementine scoffs and then throws herself on your bed, looking at the ceiling and then giggling. “That’s a bunch of bullshit.”

You pull your sleeve over your arm and bury your face in your pillow. “I have a fever, I think. It’s really bad.”

“Come here,” Clementine orders, waiting for you to roll around to face her so she could gently press the back of her hand on your forehead and try to feel for what you claimed, her smile faltering and her dark eyes wandering over your head as she concentrated on her task.

Nonetheless her dark eyes brightened moments later and lowered to meet your own gaze to then slowly smile brightly and say her findings. “Oh yeah I feel something,”

“Fever.” You groggily confirm.

“Just a high amount of bullshit,” she snickers and smacks your forehead before she tears her hand away and snuggles closer to you. “Don’t you want to go see your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct her, “we’re just dating, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet,” she grinned smugly. “Regardless,” she sighed, losing her grin and instead dropping her gaze into a calm expression. “Don’t you want to come eat with your best friend and our annoying brothers then?”

You huff out and shake your head. “No on the brother part, but,” you sigh, “yes on the friend offer.”

“Good.” She interjects before she rolls off your bed and drags you out of your spot, letting you shove your shoes on before she took you downstairs to the main hall and sat you down beside Harry and friends.

“Hello everyone,” you greet warmly, meeting Harry’s blue eyes and offering him a sweet smile.

“Hi, y/n.” He greeted whilst he let his eyes linger on yours before he slid them to Clementine. “Clementine.”

“Hello,” she replied as she served herself a plate of dinner.

Hermione proceeded to greet the both of you, while Ron lazily did so, hardly even paying either of you any attention at first until he realized what was on Clementine's plate. He seemed to light up after that, like he had just received a nice present. He then proceeded to ramble on with her about the food on their plate as if neither of them have either eaten the same meal before. Not only that but they went on about food they’ve tried outside of school, both sharing their dislikes and likes like a bunch of school children. It was pretty nice you did have to admit, Ron and her getting along; it was really something truly unexpected.

And it seemed that Hermione had a lot of thoughts she didn’t share about their interaction too. And you had the temptation to press on the matter, but she was quick to change the subject. “We saw you at the Three broomsticks, y/n, but it seemed you didn’t see us in your hurry. Were you okay?”

Slowly you peel your eyes from your plate to meet her gaze across the table. “Yeah,” you nod, “I was just feeling bad.” You avert Harry’s gaze and clench your fists. “I’m sorry I missed you guys. We should meet there soon.”

“Are you sure?” Harry probed, his hand sliding on top of yours and making your eyes slide to him. “If your brother said something to you…”

“No,” you cut him off, “he didn’t do anything, I wasn’t feeling good so I left.”

“Well he seemed to be upset and in a hurry.” Harry continued, making your hand stiffen under his and for your eyes to leave his again. “Are—”

“Harry.” Hermione sharply cut him off, “drop it.”

Said boy swallowed thickly and hesitated but didn’t fret to listen, his hand sliding off yours and returning to his fork before he changed the subject into something much more upsetting. “I feel bad for Katie Bell, she's still in the medical wing. They can’t seem to find a way to wake her up.”

“Katie Bell?” You ask slowly, feeling your eyebrows pinch together and your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “What happened to her?”

“Hexed,” Hermione answered in a mumble. “After she touched something she wasn’t supposed to. A cursed object.”

At the sound of the words that came out of her mouth your whole body freezes and your breath hitches, the familiar stinging feeling fills your haunted and deeply guilt ridden eyes; not like they caught it with your sudden eruption to escape the table. “I don’t feel good, I’ll be back.”

——

“Reparo,” you chant once, elegantly moving your wrist and fingers to produce the spell from your hand and watch the fragmented teacup float up from the floor and slowly connect like pieces to a puzzle.

Only the moment the cracks connected to build the teacup whole, it all crumbled down again, falling to the floor with an echoing crack on the wooden floor. “Shoot,” you whisper before you sit back down and sit in silence to listen to the rain patter on the roof above, feeling a chill run throughout the perimeters of your skin as a cold gust of air blows into the bell tower.

After abruptly leaving the main hall with your heart in the pit of your stomach, you escaped here, you watched the sunset and stars twinkle in the sky until dark clouds invaded the scene. At first you just basked yourself in the silence and torment of your own guilt, watching the sky change, but soon you began to experiment with different variations of mending spells you could use on the broken enchanted teacup; trying to mimic fixing the vanishing cabinet. But just like that object, failing to fix the teacup.

Not like failing hundreds of times stopped neither Draco or you, you both still continued trying to find a way to fix the cabinet even outside the help of Borgin. Fixing this teacup was an example of that.

So you give your best efforts again, opening your hand again and in your head saying a different variation of the mending spell, once again watching the teacup fragments float into the air and begin to connect…

“Fancing a tea party?” You hear a voice ask from the stairs, the sudden sound breaking through the room making you jump and drop your concentration on your spell, ending with the teacup shattering into smaller pieces on the wooden floor. You swear under your breath before looking to where the voice had come from to see Harry’s deep blue eyes peeking over the wooden floor.

“Not anymore,” you groan as you turn back to the mess on the floor and hear Harry slowly make his way across from you, admiring the rain drops crashing onto the roofs outside that created a soothing melody before he sat down to face you. “How did you know I was here?”

You lift your eyes from what you were cleaning on the floor and notice Harry hesitate, a mischievous smirk pulling on his lips before he answers. “I just….made a lucky guess.”

You scoff and nod slowly, “well alright. What a lucky guess then,” you smirk, leaning over to collect the leftover pieces by his feet, feeling his fingers brush yours as he helps you clean up the pieces. “Thank you.”

“What were you doing?” He finally asks after you take the pieces from his hand.

“Uh,” you hum as you put the teacup away. “I’m practicing mending spells, the known ones, the more unknown and some I have tried to make myself.” You beam up at him and sit up straight to finally meet his gaze.

“Really?” He quirks a brow, “what for?”

You shrug, “practice. If I want to be an auror, I need to practice to be the best. Or try to anyway.”

His eyes roam on your face and he doesn’t respond to the comment you had just shared, instead he changes to what you were dreading. “Are you feeling better? You left in a hurry and never came back. You missed Clementine and Ron’s food competition.”

You snort. “Well maybe I was better off missing it,” you snicker, “who would’ve known they’d get along.”

“Right,” Harry agrees, “especially because Ron is so against Slytherins.”

You laugh softly and hope he'd drop it, but you should have known better.

“But really are you okay?

“Yeah,” you nod, dropping your gaze to your finger tracing circles on the wooden floor. “I’m...fine.” You sigh and lift your gaze to look at him and finish with your assuring comment. “You’re here so I’m better.”

Harry’s eyes widen slightly before he blinks to try to act casual even if a faint blush grew on his cheeks. “Glad to hear that,” he continues whilst he scratches the back of his head and scoots in closer. “You had me worried.”

A soft smile spreads on your features and you move to be at his side instead, feeling his arm instantly loop around your shoulders to pull you closer to his side.

You could feel your heart flutter in your chest but you try to ignore it to keep yourself collected. Even if the next words just clenched your stomach and quickened your heartbeat. “Thank you for coming to look for me...thank you also for being my friend regardless of who my family is.”

Harry shifts and you could feel his stare on you before he parted his lips to answer you. “You've always been kind, there's no reason for me to treat you any other way. You’re not like your family.”

The smile you had painted on your features slowly drops and your face turns more serious, the beating of your heart beginning to race for a completely different reason this time. Guilt once again resurfaces and the question that had been pestering your mind comes out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. Regardless of what he had just said. “Do you think I’m an evil person?”

Harry parts away from your side far enough so he could see your face, so he could show you that he was being genuine. “No. I don’t. Not even a bit.”

Your lip quivers and your voice cracks. “Even if my father is a death eater? Even if he tried to kill you?”

“You’re not your father,” Harry assures you, his eyes piercing into yours as he made his statement clear to only you. Even if you still doubted yourself and his answer.

“Even if I turned on you that day in the ministry of magic?”

“Did you mean to?” He queries.

You shake your head, “no. I didn’t.”

“Then no,” he clarifies, as he grabs your hands and secures them in his hold. “I think your choices were justified and I know that if I were in your shoes I would've done the same.”

“No,” you mutter, “you wouldn't have because you’ve got a good heart Harry, you would've done the right thing.”

“If my family were alive I would have done the same,” he reveals, his eyes blinking away for a few seconds as a sad expression flickers in his eyes—“I know you love your family, y/n, I know that’s why you make the choices you do, I know that even if your family is on the wrong side, they love you. I know that’s why you make the choices you do. Anyone would too.”

His words hit you like a blade to the flesh, they hurt and stung. Every meaning behind it was genuine and sweet, you could feel it, see it in the depths of his eyes. And that wounded you more, it shook you to your very core. You tried to fight the need to cry and say the truth about everything. You ached to tell him the truth about the brand on your arm and how Voldemort frightened you, how he hurt you that day you returned from the ministry of magic.

But you didn’t say anything, even if your throat burned to spill the words trapped within you. It was better to keep things a secret. In many ways it felt good not saying the truth, it made you feel normal and not like some monster, nor an enemy he hated.

Harry made you feel safe. Which is why you kept being at his side, kept talking to him. He had a way to make you feel like you weren’t the monster whispered about in every corner, he made you happy in this gloomy war. Everything felt better with him, which is why you were selfish and continued by his side.

“Could you,” you begin in a whisper, flickering your eyes behind his shoulder to watch the silver raindrops pour down on the roofs outside. “Forgive an evil person?” You continue unsurely, blinking to meet his intent gaze.

Harry sighs but doesn’t hesitate, “I guess it depends, doesn’t it?”

It may be too on the nose, or he may not catch it at all, but you had to say it. You needed to know. “If they had no choice but to be that way.”

“Then yes,” Harry answers confidently, softening his gaze and holding onto your hand tighter until you threw your hands around him and pulled him in for an embrace, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck and balling the material of his shirt under your hands.

Said boy returned your embrace and stroked your back, leaning his head on yours and staying put until you chose to pull away. Albeit you didn’t part away, you only turned around and sat in between his legs to enjoy his company a bit longer.

“Can I show you something?” Harry later asks, breaking the silence.

“Sure,” you nod, feeling his hand dig into his pocket to pull out a potions book that he showed you the moment he swung his arm around you. “Your potions book?”

“No, no...well yes, but just read what’s inside.”

You scoff but take his book nonetheless, opening it and flipping through the pages to notice all the pages were littered with notes. “Wow,” you gasp, “Harry when did you—” you cut yourself off as your eyes land on a page that had a note that read, “property of the Halfblood Prince.” It makes you smile and tilt your head up to look at Harry’s chin until he looks down to look at you. “Are you trying to insinuate something?”

Harry doesn’t understand at first, his eyebrows pinch together and his eyes narrow in utter and innocent confusion. “What?” He stammers, “what do you mean?”

“Look,” you smile, “it’s a clever name. It’s cool, it’s nice. But just give me some time to call you that okay?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he instantly exclaims out, “what? What no! It’s not me.”

“Oh,” you sigh in relief, continuing to laugh and look down at the book. “Good, great. You had me worried for a second.”

“Did you really think I would call myself that?”

You shrug, “who am I to judge? I mean you’re the chosen one, yeah? Maybe you wanted a different alias to match with that title, I don’t know.”

Harry laughs, making you grin whilst you felt his whole shake as he did so. “Well then, who is the Halfblood prince?”

Harry shrugs, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

——

Today was an exciting day because Slytherin was going to play against Gryffindor in quidditch. Every student anticipated today’s match because of the known rivalry Gryffindors and Slytherins have. Students cheered for the players as they walked inside the brightly decorated great hall for breakfast, while others booed (i.a. Slytherin students) when Gryffindor students walked in.

Since you were a Slytherin and had friends in the Gryffindor team, you represented both teams naturally, wearing a nice uniform that matched Clementines, since she wanted to represent both teams for her brother and her friends too.

“Good morning my friends,” Clementine smiled sweetly at Harry and Hermione as you both sat down across from them on the Gryffindor table.

“Good morning girls,” Hermione responded in the same happy energy with a smile that matched yours, her eyes only briefly pulling away from her newspaper.

“Excited for today?” You question as you look at Harry.

Said boy nods after taking a bite of his breakfast. “Should be exciting.” His eyes roam your uniform and he smiles brightly, “what are you wearing?”

You look down at your clothes and then look up to Harry and Hermione both examining your and Clementine's outfit alike. “Since we’re cheering for both teams, Clementine made us both matching uniforms.”

Said girl nods and grins, “pretty smart, yeah?”

“Very,” Hermione agrees, her eyes going to the green and red paint on your cheeks that Clementine practically forced you down to put on. “It’s cute, you made it all yourself?”

“Mhmm,” Clementine nods, “I make some of my other clothes, but it’s just a hobby for now though.”

“Well it is pretty smart,” Harry finally adds, his eyes going to the doors to watch as Ron walked in with a long gloomy face painted on his features. The sight of him however making Clementine shoot Hermione a smirk before the Weasley boy dropped on the seat beside you.

Ron’s eyes dropped on his meal and for the first time since you’ve had meals next to him, he wasn’t frantically digging in like it was his first meal in ages. Instead he looked up to his two best friends in front of him and looked to Clementine to ask, “So how was it then?”

“How was what?” Hermione queried as she put the newspaper down.

“Your dinner party?” He clarified in a louder voice.

“Oh right,” you interject as you take a sip of your drink, “I forgot you guys had that.”

“It was pretty boring actually,” Hermione revealed before Clementine snickered and cut her off, eyeing the red head boy beside her.

“Although I think Hermione enjoyed desert.” Clementine glances at said brunette before her and Harry share a mischievous smile. “It was quite savory and eye-catching, wasn't it Harry?”

You glance at Harry and see him just nod before Ron and you share a confused look, for the first time looking eye to eye and not shooting daggers at one another. Needless to say before either of you could ask what the duo meant, Hermione was quick to change the subject. “Slugghorn is having Christmas too, you know. And we’re meant to bring someone,” she finishes as she sets her article down and looks at Ron.

“I expect you’ll be bringing Mclaggen.” Ron points out in an accusatory tone. “He’s in the slug club isn’t he?”

“Actually I was going to ask you.” Hermione surprisingly reveals, making you choke on your food just for a bit before you drank more of your drink and tried not to smile like an excited child.

“Remember to chew your food, Malfoy,” Clementine discreetly snickered. You rose your cup her way and just chugged it before a sweet blond came skipping behind Ron, shooting you a rather scary glare.

“Good luck today Ron. I know you’ll be brilliant,” she finished in a whisper, walking off just like how she had arrived. The whole interaction however made Clementine, Hermione and you share a look, made you remember that she was the same girl from the stands when they had tryouts.

“Oh wow, congratulations Ron, you have fans,” you pat him on the back, making him wince and take one last look at the blond at the end of the room before he turned back to Harry and leaned in.

“I’m resigning,” he panicked, “after today’s match, Mclaggen can have my spot.”

“Have it your way,” Harry said as he reached his hand over to slide Ron his cup. “Juice?”

“Sure.” Ron said glumly.

“Hello everyone,” a soft, higher pitched voice greets beside Clementine. When you look over you see Luna dressed in a lion costume facing your group. “You look dreadful, Ron.” Her eyes then drift to Harry, “is that why you put something in his cup? Is it a tonic?”

All eyes fall on Harry to wait for a response, but all you recieve is just ignorance from Harry as he puts a flask away, only aggravating Hermione and making you smirk down at your food as she was quick to protest. “Liquid luck. Don’t drink it Ron!”

Ignoring her completely, Ron raises the cup to his lips and doesn’t hesitate to chug the whole drink and look at her in a much brighter manner.

“You could be expelled for that.” Hermione argued to Harry, but received nothing but ignorance again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ron grins and begins to get off from his seat. “Come on, Harry. We’ve got a game to win.”

Both boys cheerfully part away from the table and walk out of the great hall, letting you call after Harry as he did so. “Good luck!”

He looks back and shoots you a smile before Ron and him disappear out of the hall, letting Clementine add a sly comment. “It’s no wonder you and Potter get along so well.”

You only smile before looking out the window and admiring the falling snow.

——

The falling snow thickened as the game played out, it seemed to match the aggressive competition on the field as it poured down onto the earth, making the air bitter but tolerable since everyone’s bodies were pumped with excitement as everyone cheered for the great match. As you let yourself get swept away and for once forget what you were facing outside the field, the reason why Draco hadn’t joined the team this year.

Like the crowd you cheered, clapped and jumped as scores were made, or swift moves were shown off. You watched the players soar in the sky; their feces red from the icy air that hit their faces as they zigzagged across the field to block and make scores. More intently you watched Harry on the field with a cheerful expression on your face, yet also watched with your heart on your sleeve when he would get hit or be disappointed because he couldn’t find the snitch. Your stomach churned when he would make steep dives, but regardless you cheered for him proudly, letting your own cheers soar in the sky so he could hear you.

Needless to say though, Ron was the one that took you by surprise if you had to be honest, with his quick saves that he made at points with the tip of his fingers. He carried a smile on his face now, a much happier look than the uneasy one he had plastered for breakfast. He also let himself get swept away and seemed to be cocky, and you had an idea why. Not only because students started to cheer “Ron is our King,” but because of the drink that Harry gave him that was filled with nothing but pure encouragement and nothing else. But for the sake of Ron’s confidence Harry let him believe so.

Anyhow the colors of your uniform would change from Red to Green as you cheered for both sides. Or really when you just cheered for Blaise on the Slytherin team. That color changing stopped albeit when you watched Harper from the Slytherin team collide into Harry before he sped off after the Snitch—“I think Harper of Slytherin seen the snitch!” Zacharious Smith shouted through the megaphone. “Yes he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!”

Not before long, after Harry appeared to be contemplating, he flew up into the sky, following after Harper. Literally causing you to stand on the tip of your toes, with your hand shielding your eyes to watch the bright white sky for Harry and Harper who both raced to catch the snitch. And since it was so high in the sky, if they had shared comments to one another, everyone would be none the wiser since their voices didn’t carry down, all you had to go on was the heart wrenching anticipation as Harper had the snitch just inches away from the snitch, but missed it, or let it pass as he did a double take on Harry who passed him by swiftly.

There were faces expressed, but again nothing was clear with them so high in the sky, all you could do was clutch onto Hermione and Clementine as you all watched Harry dive down, not giving anything away as he was finally at a good view in the field. Not until a few seconds later where he grinned briefly and threw his fist into the sky to show off the golden snitch to the crowd; making it end instantly with the sound of the whistle and causing the crowd to erupt in an excited cheer.

You also clapped and cheered at the top of your lungs, feeling Clemtines arm wrap around you to pull Hermione and you in for a happy embrace. And of course without a moment to spare, and while the Gryffindor players were cheering she pulled Hermione and you down to the field where most students ran down to as well to personally congratulate the team.

However, before you could reach Harry, Clementine and you stop when you catch Blaise walking to the dressing rooms—“you did well, Blaise! I’m proud of you!” Clementine complemented her brother as she threw her arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he whispered with his head hung low.

“Yeah,” you added, “you were great, that goal before halftime was very impressive!”

His eyes fly up to you and he nods, “thank you, y/n.” Blaises eyes linger on you for a second longer before he fully looks at his sister. “Cheering for opposing teams now, are we?” He shoves her arm off him and all she does is smile with pride.

“Yes, I have friends on the Gryffindor who I want to support, don’t be jealous now because I cheered for you too.”

Blaise scoffs and then looks at you again. “You should’ve joined the team, Draco says you're a good chaser. Could’ve used you out there now with your brother off.”

You wave your hand to brush his comment off. “Draco is just exaggerating, plus I play just for fun.”

“Well I think she’s better off in the stands. Wouldn’t want them hitting her pretty face,” Clementine teases.

“I’d like to see them try,” Blaise throws out before he walks off and leaves the both of you behind.

Clementine falls silent, her smile falling as she stays frozen to her spot for a brief moment and just watches her brother walk off and then just stares at his footprints on the snow covered ground. Unlike you on the other hand who finally spins around on your heels to run to Harry, maneuvering through the excited crowd of students until you pushed yourself to the middle and saw them cheering Ron and him on.

“Harry!” You call out, instantly stealing his attention and having him turn around to face you and smile wider. At the sight you run the final steps towards him and throw your arms around his neck, feeling his arms secure around you before you slid your hands to cheeks to pull him in for a short lingering kiss that had some students whooping and cheering louder for him.

Harry was caught by surprise but he didn’t pull away, he enjoyed the heart racing moment like you did, you let yourself get swept off in the moment, not caring who saw your daring actions, not caring what they’d say after. All you cared about was Harry and your kiss, how your heart felt like it was going to tear off your chest with how fast it was thumping, or how utterly happy you felt with him by your side.

All you cared about was the last happy moments before the inevitable would happen that would change everything.

Tagged- @peter-laufeyson , @swiftlymoniquesblog @spideyyypeter , @gsvshsjsbs, @accio-prozac , @cherriesanwine , @kokomaesadie , @april-14-blog , @prettypinkpeachh , @pest-ill-ence @ilovespideyyy @m3ssytrash @hogwarts-babe-blog , @yodaboo @rafeyybabyy

#Harry Potter #different light #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter and the half-blood prince #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter x malfoy!reader #Draco Malfoy #the vanishing cabinet #hermione granger #ron weasley #oc character #blaise zabini #professor snape #the three broomsticks

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asunshinepuff · 4 years ago

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Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter five! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @epithymiahua ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help! She’s incredible and deserves so much credit for working on this alongside me cause she works so hard. And I feel horrible that she isn’t getting the credit deserves. Just a small reminder that the next chapter will be posted on Luna’s blog!

This chapter features a mention of poisoning, it’s quite brief and only about paragraph but nonetheless here’s your warning. Also, if you have any questions about swords and the reasoning behind Min-Jun’s sword having a name, feel free to ask Luna on her blog, she is great at explaining the lore behind it all and very patient to help you understand.

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however, it will be explained over time so no worries. There are very subtle mentions of lore within the previous chapters so perhaps read back and see if you can catch it.

Under the guise of Fantastic Nautical Creatures by Newt Scamander, the included lore on different types of merfolk will as always, be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We will not take credit for its writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!

Also! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so that you don’t miss a new chapter! Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy!

If you’ve missed any chapters here’s the link to the masterlist for this story Secrets of the Darkened Seas 🧜🏻‍♀️

Chapter 5: The Sea Serpent’s Venom

Everything happened in a span of mere seconds. Regulus and Tadase both woke up in fear, the crew claimed their weapons, the boys were pulled away by Opal and hidden away, Remus drew his sword, Sirius’ sword clanged against his, and the invading pirates boarded the Dragon’s Pearl.

Remus glared at the offending man, he stepped back when other pirates began to draw closer. One of the pirates stood next to Sirius Black. He was lean and tall, he wore round spectacles, light skin, the most unruly black hair Remus had ever seen, and a sword at the ready.

Remus blocked the first to his head, retaliating by swinging his sword. The pirate in spectacles charged at Quinn, who only smirked in response. Easily dancing around the younger pirate, disarming him rather quickly by grabbing the spectacles of the pirate. The man yelled out in surprise, shouting at the unfairness of it all.

Another pirate, this time a woman with bright green eyes and fiery red hair, charged after Opal. Having just joined the fray, she quickly blocked a blow to her side. She was not amused, nor did she want to deal with practical children, minus Remus of course, trying to steal their ship.

“Where is he?!” Sirius snarled out, his sword pressed against Remus’.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He snapped in return. Pushing his sword down against the Black.

“Don’t play coy, I know your captain kidnapped my brother!” Sirius pulled his sword free and twirled it with his wrist. “Kidnapped?! My captain practically saved him!” Remus widened his stance, putting the hilt of his sword to his chest.

Sirius didn’t even bother to respond to that, only frowning at the answer Remus gave him. He surged forward again, aiming for Remus’ torso. He blocked and began to advance while Sirius began to retreat to the stairs. He was heading for the Captain’s quarters. In a moment of quick thinking, Remus threw his sword. Sirius found himself pinned to the wall- Remus’ sword piercing his sleeve to the wood of the railing.

Sirius tugged his wrist, trying to pull free, he glared at Remus who only offered a smirk in return. His expression falters at the sight of a young lanky man with dusty blonde hair and grey eyes. The young man’s eyes darted around nervously, he quickly ran towards Sirius, handing the object in his arms to him.

It was Min-Jun’s sword, the one with a dark green sheath with gold accents. Dú hǎi. Remus paled. The lanky boy had snuck into the Captain’s quarters. Sirius smirked, taking the hilt of the sword.

The crew of the Dragon’s Pearl paused, watching Sirius. With all of the attention on him, Sirius spoke.

“I’ll be taking over this ship, unless you hand over Regulus Black. If you don’t, I’ll have the Dragon’s Pearl kill you all.” The crew merely looked at the Black in confusion.

Sirius frowns, he lifts the sword up for the crew to see. “See this! This sword controls the ship, and I hold the sword.”

Remus looked to Quinn, an intense desire to wring the young Black’s neck was clear upon his face. Quinn merely shook his head, sheathing his sword, and leaned against the railing. Remus only looked at Sirius as if he was watching a child wave a stick and calling it a magic wand.

Sirius’ brows frowned further into frustration at the lack of a response from the crew, in anger, he pulls the sword from its sheath. Instantly dropping the sword, blood dripping to the deck. Sirius clutched his hand tightly, a tiny metallic gold snake with emerald eyes wrapped its body around Sirius’ wrist, its fangs piercing the skin.

The metallic gold snake released its fangs, leaving two puncture holes, uncoiling its body, and it fell to the floor. Then slithered its way to the hilt of the sword where it fits perfectly to the deep grooves of the metal hilt that had appeared to have lost a large piece. The snake froze and became inanimate once more. Its emerald eyes shimmering.

Sirius looked to Remus and Quinn. His vision began to fog up around the edges, his mind felt heavy. “What did you do to me? What is that sword?!”

“Us? We’ve done nothing.” Quinn replied with a shrug.

Remus sheathed his sword and walked forward. His expression was neutral as the crew began to drive out the remaining pirates who had grown in fear at the sight of the sword’s snake coming to life. “That sword, is called Dú hǎi.”

Sirius fell to his knees, he looked up to Remus. “What the bloody hell does that have to do with anything?!”

Remus remains passive. “Dú hǎi translates to Venomous Sea.” He crouched down next to the pirate. “You were bitten by the spirit of the sword, and now have its venom running in your veins.”

The pirate glared at Remus. “Give me the antidote!”

“I don’t have it, only the White Sea Serpent has it,” Remus answered calmly.

Sirius froze, he had heard that title before. The White Sea Serpent was a man who had vanquished many pirates and had a magical sword that only served one master. “Who is he?! Where can I find him to give me the antidote!?”

“He’s my captain,” Remus smirked. “Captain Min-Jun Hua. And I doubt he would give someone like you the antidote. He doesn’t take too kindly to trespassers on his ship.”

Sirius struggled to keep his eyes open, his heart began to slow, he fell to his side. Quinn walked forward.

“You got bitten by the White Sea Serpent mate. You’ll become legendary if you survive. Which you won’t since its venom is hell without the antidote.” He leans down to grin at the pirate. “You’d best start praying my captain returns soon, eh?”

Sirius couldn’t respond, he fell unconscious. Quinn tsks, shaking his head. He stood, “Take him to the infirmary, make sure he stays alive long enough for Min-Jun to arrive.”

The crew gets to work. Remus watches them drag Sirius away, his arms crossed. “Defeated by the captain’s sword when the captain was nowhere in sight. What a terrible way to die. He doesn’t even have the honor to die with the captain present. How tragic.”

“Well, now you know how it looks in person. This is why no one has managed to take the ship.” Quinn adds, he grabs the fallen sword, speaking quietly to it. A small hiss answers in return, Quinn resheaths the sword.

“I’ll go check on the children. They got quite the scare.” Remus offered. He personally wanted to make sure the children weren’t harmed during the fight.

“Alright, try to get some sleep,” Quinn adds as he looks to the ship that was sailing away. “His own crew left him, not that I blame them. They wouldn’t even be able to help him.” Quinn turned to the infirmary. Dú hǎi in his hand.

When Remus joined the children, Brielle had taken to hiding Regulus as well. She snarled when the cabin door opened, but stopped when she saw that it was Remus.

“How are they?” Remus asked softly, kneeling on the ground. The mermaid had not spoken once, but it was clear she could understand them. The mermaid only communicated with Remus telepathically, but even then Remus still struggled to understand the complex mer language.

Brielle simply looked to her right, the children were huddled under a blanket. She looked back to Remus, her eyes turning silver as she spoke to Remus telepathically.

Remus instantly raised his hands to try to stop her, his head shaking. “Alright, I understand. Please stop doing that, it feels so loud my head might burst.” He looks to Brielle who’s shoulders slumped. He sighs. “At least until I know about your language.”

Brielle looks away, her hair falling over her shoulder. Remus turned his attention to the blanket, lifting it up a tad to peek at the children underneath. Two pairs of wide eyes stared back at him. Remus couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you both alright?” The boys nod. Tadase crawls out from the blanket, curling up to the older mer’s side. Purring contentedly. Regulus crawled out as well, hesitantly watching the two mers interact, it looked like he wanted comfort too.

Without warning, Remus pulled Regulus onto his lap, hugging him tightly. Regulus struggled to pull himself free, but gradually came to a stop. The child’s shoulders began to shake, before he began to sob.

Remus only rubbed his back in an attempt to soothe him. A sigh leaving his lips, he was angry. Regulus had been so small and thin, he hadn’t spoken a single word for nearly all four days. Only flinching whenever someone mentioned the Blacks. What had they done to him?

“He feels abandoned.” Remus snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked to the mermaid. She had spoken. In english!

Brielle looked undisturbed with her sudden ability to speak. She watched the boy closely. “I feel, loneliness from him. He feels abandoned.”

Remus frowned. He wasn’t surprised. The Blacks all but unloved the frail boy in his arms. Regulus was neglected for so long, it must have felt like rejection and abandonment. Brielle tilts her head, the mer child in her arms has fallen asleep. Gently, she places Tadase down beside her. She turns to Remus, her arms stretched, reaching for Regulus.

“I’ll sing. To help him sleep. No more nightmares.”

Remus’ eyes widened in surprise. “Mermaid’s can be rid of nightmares?”

Brielle nodded. “Mothers do, for their babies. I will do it for him.” She pulls the boy into her arms, her clawed hands were so gentle, it amazed Remus how such a fierce creature could become so gentle and tender to others. He had much to learn about his fellow mers it seemed.

Once settled comfortably upon her lap, Brielle began to sing. And her lullaby soothed out the frown on his face, falling deep into sleep. Tadase curled closer to her. Her lullaby seemed to calm the rage within Remus’ own mind, and all the crew slept well for the first time in days. Even Sirius Black who was fighting for his life, the pain seemed to dull.

Her song reached everyone aboard the Dragon’s Pearl.

Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries

@sunflowerfox87

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magicalsalamander · 5 years ago

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Moon Breaker

Pairing: BTS Taehyung ⇆ Reader

Genre: Werewolf | Fluff | Angst | Smut |

Summary: Tales as old as time were passed through the werekind. If a human and a kind were to be mates, the moon would take them, the misfortune, to serve the Goddess. Taehyung, a kind, had always heard of the tales told by his elders. The alpha of his kind. He didn’t expect to find his mate, one of the non-kinds. Would the moon reap her back?

Words: 17 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; Explicit themes, action/ violence, blood shed, bullying, sexual content, marking, impreg kink, dom/sub themes, werewolf heat, mating, knotting, disability (blind).

A/N: Cr. Header image from @mvssmedia | Orig | Thank you for the permission to use the image.

| Masterlist |

Holding her in his arms he wept until a sea of his tears pooled around them. The soil was tainted in sorrow. He watched as her eyes from the outside in, like white frost covering the window, slowly turned opal. She reached up, mouth agape as she gasped for air. She cupped his cheek catching his tears as they rolled over her knuckles. The opal bleeds and engulfed her black pupils and with her last strangled breath, her back arched. His breath came in ragged, and shallow before he was wailing out, sobbing as he brought her chest to his forehead.

He couldn’t hear it, her heart was silent.

It was icy cold as her spirit lifted from her body, white and translucent. She lifted until she hovered above the soil to a stand. “My love,” her disembodied voice spoke to him as he wept into her being. Lifting his head he saw her spirit smile down at him. The glimpse of brown that once was her eyes was completely white. She caressed his cheek gently one last time, “I will always love you.”

It was his mistake, he swore to never look, he swore to the goddess he would never look.

She stepped into the moonlight and her light absorbed into the moonlight. She was gone. His mate was gone.

It was punishable by the fates, as Taehyung was told by the generations, for a human and his kind to be mates. He’s heard that story every year, surrounding the fire pit on nights where the pack gathered to celebrate the Moon and those guided by it. The pack’s elder recounted that they were forsaken by the Gods. The curse would be redeemed by the Moon when the mates would make eye contact, breaking the misfortune, and return the cursed soul to the Moon. A punishment by the Moon goddess for when the first kind didn’t love the Moon back, but another kind, so as punishment if a mate would be destined to linger elsewhere but a kind, she would make sure they knew her pain.

For generations and generations, there had only been a few misfortunes. Those kinds were left to wander the rest of their time alone, howling to the empty moon until the Moon called them too. It was a legend, a story of time, truth, as he had never seen a non-kind pairing. Shivers ran through his spine each time the story was repeated. How cruel could destiny be to rip their mate away? How cruel.

Knocking each vertebra erect, his spine stood tall as if he had been electrified. Shocks radiated, traveling to each limb like he had been branded by iron from the inside out. As quickly as the electricity coursed through his veins it was then replaced by a euphoria that made him feel like he had drunk wine. A sweet scent that was thick like honey as his body twisted to find the source. His feet were moving towards it before he knew it. His bare feet crunched twigs and leaves as he sped up. Lead by his nose, he followed the sweet scent.

The forest hummed with life around him, but that life scurried the other way as he neared. Despite the night sky blanketing the forest in darkness, his eyes allowed him to see everything. White moonlight would occasionally break through the dense trees creating its imprints of stars on the forest floor. His breathing was steady as he felt the scent fill his lungs to capacity. He slowed to a jog, thighs, hands, and spine blistering to transform until he skidding to a stop. A growl erupted from his being as his toes curled in the dirt.

He was close.

He bent down and sniffed the soil then the air. His ritual leather breechcloth scathed the floor as he nearly crawled sampling all things. At this point, he had abandoned all thoughts of attending the annual Moon gathering. A feral feeling overtook his system as the sweet smell sent goosebumps erupting across his skin. Whatever it belonged to was near, very near. A growl starting from his bowels erupted out his throat in a feral groan. He lunged off, nearly shifting but he was trained.

You trembled, as you felt around the damp rock underneath you. It felt cold enough to tell you that you were deep inside what you assumed to be a cave. You heard the hounds, you heard the guards, so you jumped over the edge. You tumbled down the hill, bumping rocks along the way, then feeling every bone in your body jangle. Picking yourself up in a stumble, you survived the fall, and with no sense, you instinctually followed the call, the echo, that lead you to crawl into the cave. You desperately tried to remember the words of the merchants, how far they’d travel and what roads they took, but their serpential advice only brought you to an edge.

They were all liars.

You couldn’t let yourself die. You weren’t going to be a simple sacrifice for the royal family. The soil raiser that had said you held power within your eyes was lying.

You ran away, ran away from the village, the palace, ran away from your supposed destiny.

The sounds of the night filled the dark space. You knew darkness, it was all you saw, but this darkness was abysmal. You curled further into yourself collecting your tattered dress closer around yourself. It didn’t ease the pain, but it eased the fear for a second. Consciously you tried controlling the shivering wrecking through your system.

You were going to live another day, or so you thought until a bone-chilling howl echoed in the distance.

He tilted his head back inhaling the scent until his lungs were aching and hyperventilating. He shivered despite his body running at a blazing temperature. A howl rumbled through, calling out to the feeling again.

Closer, he was getting closer.

His sensitive ears picked up a soft whimper and his head whipped towards the source. The sweet smell was coming from a rock formation. He climbed up the small cliff, scaling the rocks and hopping across the boulders until he was at the top. The sound was faint, but it tickled him the wrong way. Whomever it was coming from wasn’t well and his instincts were fighting for something intrinsic to appease it. At the peak, the white light illuminated his bare tawny beige skin reflecting the time he spent under the Summer's sun. His toned, thick muscles were taunting from the urge to shift, just waiting for release under his skin. A light breeze rustled his long dark brown downy hair that hung to his waist as the strands tickled over his broad shoulders and face. The terra cotta breechcloth shifted as he assumed a hunched position that his wolf begged for as his golden eyes flicker around. He climbed over and descended until he could jump down.

He landed on all fours in a squatted position. As he rose he eyed the tall arch of the mouth of a cave where the sweet scent was emanating from. Moonlight didn’t reach far inside the impending darkness, but he knew it was there. He squared his shoulders back as he took confident steps towards the darkness. He could sense a being inside as he picked up on the harsh breathing and erratic heartbeat. The scent began to shift, and his face scrunched. Their fear was ruining the fresh scent with the bitterness. The tangy scent caused another growl to rip out of his throat. It echoed off the walls of the cave and a terrified whimper responded.

Instantly the call of dominance hushed in his chest, he couldn’t understand why but he wanted to apologize to it.

He walked further into the cave as he could sense the being attempting to move. It was a quick reaction before a feminine cry and whimper filled the walls as they stood and began running away.

It taunted the beast within him, the wolf wanted to catch its prey.

Sweet turned completely bitter.

Your bare feet splashed in shallow puddles that had collected from the recent storm that passed over. You kept a hand against the wall of the cave as your ears worked a million miles an hour. The small displaced rocks caused you to lose your footing, but you kept running. The slapping of your feet was loud as it pounded along your loud heartbeat that drummed in your ear. You listened for the footsteps behind you and keep going towards where the echoes seemed never-ending. Faster. Faster. Faster! You twisted left and right as you heard a vicious growl bounce off the walls of the cave. A wolf had found you.

You had been warned your whole life of the giant wolves that lived in the woods that surrounded the town, but you had thought it to be only a myth. A child’s nightmare to scare them into behaving at night. You spent your whole life in the palace. It was always a secret passed amongst the other servants, spat by the highborn, fear the giant wolves of the forest. Fear those of Vantierra, who are as savage as those giant beasts. Beware of the forest of savagery. A warning amongst each other if anyone ever decided to run, then something the highborn would whisper to you in threat.

You kept twisting and turning as the tunnels grew narrow, then wide once again. Behind the darkness of your eyes, you couldn't trust anything but your feet as they moved forward. Forward had to lead somewhere.

The floor beneath you was lost as the world rushed by in a blur. Your dress was caught on a jagged of a stone on the wall, ripping your dress and cutting your side as it sent you skidding to the floor. You smacked the floor with a hard thump. You screamed out, unable to control the searing pain. Adrenaline flooded your system as you prepared yourself when you knew that the wolf following you had you where he wanted you. You covered your face with your arms, the stretch painful. The rough footsteps running after you slowed to a stop until they were just over you and circling you.

With bated breath, you waited and waited for the ravaging, for it to tear you limb from limb, but you were still alive. You heard a desperate whine come from its panting above you. Slowly you pulled your arm away from your face and looked towards what was following you. You could feel the heat emanating from the creature as their panting signaled where they were to you.

Light filtered from a skylight as you were splayed under the moonlight. When you pulled your arm away from your face, his breath caught in his throat.

You were a human.

Your eyes were different from those of a human though. They were pupil-less and white, but there was distinct separation with the ring that made up the telling eye. It was like you held the moon in your eyes.

His eyes widened as he realized his biggest mistake. He had been following a basal instinct without a single thought. The bittersweet scent was nearly suffocating as he gazed at you like a struck man. He could smell it now. You were human. It caught up to him why he followed the scent, he had heard it through his kind who were with kind. All the stories he had heard as a child up until now, came to him. It was too late, it was too late, he had already seen your eyes.

The question fell off his tongue without him thinking, “Mate.”

No! You weren’t. You couldn’t be! He denied it, it had to be wrong. You hadn’t faded from existence. Something else must be at play. You weren’t his mate, you couldn’t be. You were human. But why? Why would his wolf lead him to you?

But…if…if you were, was he going to lose you?

He fell to his knees grasping onto your shoulders. One hand then cupped your cheek as he guided your head so you’d look directly at him. You stiffened at the calloused tough and gasped as he held you gently. He searched their depths, although they lacked exact focus flitting left and right, he could feel it within that you were gazing into his as well.

It was true. Deep within himself, he could feel it, his wolf approved. It was you.

He was a part of the misfortunate.

Like the legend stated he waited for your spirit to leave. For the Moon to rob you like he had been told. The moonlight cloaked you, but you still blinked as he held your trembling being.

He was strong as you tried fighting his grip, but he held you securely. Despite fear trickling over your system, an odd deep part of you wanted to lean into the stranger’s touch. It was confusing. Your emotions twirled in your stomach, wasn’t a wolf following you? Where did this man come from?

“Please, please, don’t kill me.” You pleaded.

A deep voice you hadn’t expected answered you, “Human.”

Sensing the sweet returning to your scent he shuffled closer to you, bringing your noses together. His bare chest pressed up against you demonstrating his strength as he held you in place. He was having a hard time reading you. He squinted, “Your eyes?”

You flicked your eyes down.

His eyebrows raised, his thumb subconsciously smoothing the soft tissue under your eyes. “Don’t.”

The gentleness in his voice caught you off guard as they flicked back up.

A new scent filled his nose. His nose scrunched as he looked down. There were so many smells going through his system he hadn’t registered it before, “You’re bleeding.”

He reached out to tend to it, but as soon as he got close you whacked away his hand. You snapped out of the spell he had cast over you when you felt his hand coming towards you. As much as his touch felt nice you couldn't trust that feeling. “Don’t touch me!”

He growled out of instinct; how dare you defy him. You scrunched away from him and instantly he regretted his behavior. Taking a deep breath through his nose, “Let me help you.”

You shook your head, eyes darting everywhere. “No, leave me alone! Just-just-just let me die here.”

“You’re not going to die!” A pang of sadness filled him mirroring your emotions. He was saddened that you sounded so defeated already but, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. You were his human. He couldn’t let you go after he had so many questions to ask you.

After shouting a wave of dizziness washed over you. Your hearing was muffling out, you were losing a lot of blood. “Please—.”

Finally pushed, he commanded, “I’m-not-leaving-you, human.”

Slurring your words, “Why…why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you are human.”

That’s right. You were…but he wasn’t. A chill ran up your spine. You tried scooching away, but a hot pain shot up from your ankle like fire. You hissed and yelped as you tried clutching your sore ankle and aching side at the same time. Heavier dizziness overcame you as you tried moving, you were losing consciousness with every heave. It hurt to move, breath, and think overall. You’ve must’ve twisted it or broken it in your stupor early running from him.

You hadn't moved from his embrace only teetering to only slump forward into his shoulder when your limbs felt weak with a groan.

Panic filled his being, you were losing conscious, he could hear your heart slowing. He reached down and touched over the swollen flesh of your ankle. The wolf in his whined, his mate was injured. “Let me take you to our healer.”

You protested weakly, “No…I won’t go anywhere with you.”

He sighed, “I won’t hurt you. I won’t ever hurt you.” It was odd, he already felt so much but all he had done was lay his eyes on you. It was like there was a line pulling him to you he wasn’t sure who was tugging on.

A feeling settled in you, you wanted to believe his words. For some reason, things felt alright in his arms. “Okay.” Consciousness tickled at the edge before you fell under with your last burst of energy answering him. Your body collapsed as you completely slumped into his being with an unfounded trust.

“Human!” With quick reflexes, he caught you wrapping his arms tightly around you. Pulling away to see your face his arm felt distinctly warm. His arm was dabbed in your blood. A feral growl escaped his lips as the alpha within decided it was time break the haze. He wanted to shift, that would be so much faster, but he didn’t want to risk hurting you any further. You were delicate. He shifted you around and hoisted you onto his back, careful of your injuries. With practiced ease and a blurring pace, he set back towards his village.

You woke to the sound of pitter-pattering of small feet. Your mind was slowly registering things from your fogged over the brain. You must be indoors. It was warm that you were sure, as the telling warmth of sunlight tickled over your skin. You were encompassed in absolute comfort. It was a softness you had never experienced before. In the palace, you slept on the floor with your apron rolled up as your pillow.

Were you dead?

You struggled to remember the last thing that happened. Until it hit you. You remember running, running and running through the savage Forrest. You heard the harsh whispers of the Queen; it was time to reap. It was time to reap your eyes to bless the royals with your powers. The rest was a blur as you all you can distinctly remember was running, and running, and running.

You tried to move to feel the fluffy fabric underneath you. You wanted to know if it was real. But as you tried lifting your sluggish hand pain surged through your left side and leg. A pained groan escaped your throat in protest.

This was real.

Where were you?

Softly in a harsh whisper, a child’s voice filled your ears and it had your head turning toward the sound. "Big Bear, is it…is it a human?"

Big Bear, who was a big bear?

A familiar voice responded, “It’s a real human.”

“Wow! Is it—is it,” the curious pup leaned in closer to Taehyung with its eyes wide, half shifted ears on his head twitching, “infected?”

Taehyung laughed fully, he shook his head, “No, she’s not infected.”

When the child still seemed to be dumbfounded by the presence of a human, Taehyung pushed him right along and out of the room. “Alright, alright, go on pup, go bother your Mom.”

What seemed like canine whines followed with a protest calling Big Bear as the door clicked closed.

You tried pretending you were asleep still, but he knew better. He could hear you slowly coming to, “So you’re awake.”

You blinked open your eyes, although it made no difference. His voice picked as the scabs of your sealed memories of last night. You remembered that voice. You remembered him, hazily, you remembered him. You remembered the howls of the wolf.

Dressed in pants and a loose shirt this time he stood off the side of the bed gazing down at you. His wolf purred in delight seeing you in his bed.

In a hoarse voice, you asked, “Where am I?”

Cautiously he took a seat next to the bed in an armchair. Although he wanted to sit next to you, he sensed your senses were on overdrive.

“I brought you home. Our healer treated you.”

You reached over and dragged your heavy hand towards your side and felt bandages and gauze over your chest.

“She said it will take a while to heal along with your leg because you are human.”

You turned towards him, the warmth of the sun encompassing your face. The room smelled musky and masculine, but clean. It reminded you of the laundry room back at the palace that smelled like the finest soaps. Your mind was still catching up you before you built up the intelligence to ask, “Who—what—no, who are you?”

Biting back a smile at your choice of words, “I’m Taehyung.”

Your mind searched over, what was a “Taehyung”? It took you a few more blank blinks that you realized he had told you his name. You repeated the name, testing it on your tongue. He smirked, enjoying the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth.

You tried sitting up, you felt too vulnerable laying in his presence. You winced as you put pressure on your side. He was by your side immediately helping you. His large hands picked you up and helped you into a sitting position. Quietly you thanked him.

With a bit more confidence he sat on the bed next to you, his wolf urging him closer and closer to you.

He noticed your heart pick up as he touched you. “What is your name Human?”

His diction was strange, but you decided to overlook it. You hesitated, “I’m,” you debated giving him a fake name, but instead settled on the truth, “…Y/n.”

He smiled, testing the name out on his tongue. He liked the sound of it, it rolled off with ease like he had practiced it countless times, even in his dreams.

“How long was I out?”

“A few days.”

A few days? You were out for a few days? Your body still felt so exhausted as if you haven’t slept for any of it. Your mind was filtering at top speed, you wanted more answers. Your face scrunched and contorted as you figured your first question verbally. “Who? No. I mean—what are you? Why do you keep calling me human?”

He propped his elbows on his thighs as he leaned in towards you, “I’m a kind. A were kind as you humans would call it.”

Your fingers scrunched up the blanket attempting to pull it closer to you. It was like he had lifted the pillow holding you up and placed it over your mouth and nose. But there was still enough where you were functioning. He was…he was a beast.

He could smell it again, that bitter citrus ruining the honey that was you. He wanted to reach closer to you, but as he shuffled the sound made you flinch. He stopped and observed your fist turning white as you clutched the blanket. It felt like a stake had pierced him, slowly digging in as you panicked forming your next question. This wasn't how it was supposed to go when mates found each other. It was supposed to be euphoric; it was supposed to be simple as two souls became one.

“Was that you? Was that you, the one that…,” you gulped, “howled?”

He squinted at your ridiculous questions, of course, it was him. "Yes."

You weren’t mistaken you had heard the growling of a wolf and it was him. He was a were kind. You weren't dreaming.

“It is natural.” It dawned on him that you may not know anything of the kind. He took his greeting more serious. Proudly he states, finding his ego again, “I’m Taehyung of the Kim clan, in line to be the next Alpha of Vantierra.”

Your throat closed up as you heard him completely. You repeated the name in your mind. Vantierra. You were in Vantierra. Fear clutched at your throat tighter. Despite your pain, you tossed the blanket off of you. You had to leave. You couldn’t be here. You scrambled off the side of the bed and collapsed to the floor in a groan. Pain surged your being, rendering you dizzy. Tears were building in the corner of your eyes.

Standing up and bolting over to you he attempted to scoop you into his arms, “Y/n!”

You shoved him away, yelling at him to not touch you. He was so confused, “Wait, what’s wrong!”

Eyes glassing, “I can’t be here! I can’t be here! It’s dangerous.”

He frowned, “It’s not dangerous.”

You blubbered, “You…you, you’re savages! Your kind kill mercilessly! I don’t want to die, please, I don’t want to die.”

You jabbed in the stake further into his heart. It was a sickening feeling being rejected by his mate. His wolf howled within in sorrow. He defended himself, “We are not ‘savages’, we are the kind. No one is going to harm you.” A rumble rumbled through his chest just at the thought of someone hurting you. “No one here will ever hurt you. We are not ‘savages’ that you speak of.”

“You have my word, y/n.” You looked up at him trying to imagine the face of the man speaking to you. You could make out a shadow of darkness blocking out the light, but you couldn't see more than that. Your hearing began to return as you waited for him to betray his words, but you only received a canine whine again. It sounded so sad. It made you regret the words you spat at him. Your words were horrible. You were still alive, he had even tended to you, and yet you just accused him of the worst. Your own words felt bitter in your mouth in the aftertaste.

Under his breath, he whispered but your ears caught it, "We've never done that, never our kind."

Your eyes widened wanting to ask more but he spoke softly to you. Biting back his hurt and swallowing it, “Let’s get you back on the bed.”

You nodded slowly as he scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing. Naturally, your arms went around his neck and your hand settled on his jaw that ticked at your soft touch. He was so warm and for a moment you could imagine that there was no pain. You felt ease for the few seconds that he migrated you back and settled you back in the bed. Why? Why did you feel this way when he touched you? Your mind was screaming at you otherwise. You settled in your spot, mulling over his words. It sounded so genuine. A part of you had already settled on believing him.

He sat next to you on the bed and scooted closer to you as he draped the comforter over you again. Needing to ease the wolf within cautiously he took your shaking hand, the only way he knew how to ease you, but he was afraid. He…was afraid you’d reject him again.

When you didn’t pull away from him holding your hand he caressed it like you were made of glass. In the past few days he’s had with himself, he’s watched over you diligently. He went over it all in his mind over and over. He denied it only to come to acceptance, you, a human, was his mate. He was going to protect you at all cost. His sister, the healer, was afraid of you at first when Taehyung brought you to her. Of course, she knew of the lore, she was afraid for her brother. She growled that he was mistaken, but he fought her, it was true. You were his mate. That didn’t change the fact that she was afraid for him, for the both of you. Humans never entered Vantierra for the fear that the lore would come true. It was a curse to have humans on Vantierra soil.

He couldn’t care though, you were here, you had proven the curse wrong.

“I won’t hurt you. No one will. You’re safe here.”

He could tell you weren’t fully convinced by the tension in your muscles. He cocked his head back as the wolf within crept through to the surface. “You have the word of an Alpha. No one will hurt you. No one will challenge my word.”

You had no idea what alpha meant, but you could only assume that it held value in Vantierra. You nodded along.

“May I ask something?”

You nodded as you felt his playing with your fingers measuring them up to his. You could sense that his fingers could engulf your hand alone if he wanted to. It sent a small shiver up your spine, but it wasn’t from fright. Was he man or beast disguised as a man?

Quietly he asked, “Can you see me?”

Biting your bottom lip, you shook your head.

He nodded his head. “Rest now.”

You hadn’t realized it, but you were slumping into the pillows stacked behind you. Your body felt heavy with sleep again. All that exhaustion you had felt earlier had returned with a vengeance. You fell asleep with him holding your hand.

You were going to stay, but what other choice did you have?

You pushed away from the bedpost taking your first true step away. It wasn't your first step on your legs again, but the take-off always felt like it. According to the Healer, Dasom, who you found out was Taehyung’s sister, you had twisted your ankle, but whatever she had done for you had nearly fixed it. The injury on your side had healed over, but you were left with a bubbled scar.

Two months in and you found yourself barely limping at that point, trailing around his home. Taehyung lived in a cabin somewhere on the outskirts of Vantierra. Slowly with each day passing your vicious words began to eat at you as you realized that nothing of the horrors you imagined had happened. Taehyung was nothing short of a gentleman towards you. He spent time with you explaining more about Vantierra and the kind. You found that nearly all that you had heard or knew about this place was false. They were far more sophisticated than those at the palace. The few you had come in contact with, being Dasom, her son and his mother were all wonderful people. His mother had come to you and spoke to you personally. She held your hand and spoke to you gently. She never made it a point to discuss your humanness. Your eyes nearly teared up, you had never experienced such kindness. How could you have called these people savages? You were beginning to understand the only savages you knew were them. The people you ran from. You had yet to meet his father, he had told you he was a busy man. You didn’t hold it to him. Everything was already more than enough. This wasn’t your place anyways, so there wasn’t a need to begin making attachments.

He hadn’t let you out of the house, on orders by his sister, you needed to heal. Grumbling you understood and was patient, patient for months, until today. You had remained indoors only feeling the sun through the windowpane for too many days. Your body ached to feel the breeze and direct sunlight.

As you left the room you headed towards what was the living room. Taehyung was always gone during this time of day, but just in case you paused attempting to pick up any sounds that Taehyung was home. When you couldn’t pick up his noises you fully stepped out. Your hand ran over the furniture, vaguely trailing your hands everywhere. Subtly you had been putting to memory every single texture in his cabin. Vaguely his scent faded around the house, but it was more prominent in the living room where he had been sleeping since he gave you his room. When you trialed your hands on the table you let your hands soar as you stepped away and around. Your feet dug into the plush rug before your knee bumped into the back of a couch. Your hand clutched onto the back of the couch stabilizing yourself in a groan. You bit the sound as best you could, your knees were going to bruise. Standing up you kept going. You had assumed from hearing it close and open many times you were near the front door.

Feeling the frame you found the front door of the cabin and skimmed it until you felt a heavy handle. You depressed the lever and pushed the heavy door open with your shoulder. You felt the afternoon breeze hit your face with a hint of saltiness hanging in the air. Birds whistled a song as you heard them fly from the trees. Stepping out into the sunshine your body rejoiced. Your bare feet went from a hot stone slab to grass and you dug your toes in like a child. A gleeful laugh bubbled from your chest. The blades were a refreshingly cool compared to the warm rays of pure sunlight. You stretched your arms out bathing in paradise.

You huffed as arms wrapped around your middle and you were hoisted and draped over someone’s shoulders. You belatedly realized it was Taehyung as you screamed out in fright. He slammed the door behind you shaking the wall of the cabin. You were unceremoniously dropped to the couch by the kind. You clutched your arms to your chest feeling a tremble overcome you.

Taehyung voice dipped deep in anger, “Y/n, I told you! You can’t go outside!”

You felt a flush of heat overcome you. Had you really done something so wrong? “I-I just wanted—.”

He growled, “Do you know what could’ve happened to you if—.” He didn’t finish his statement.

You were left silenced. Had you really done something wrong? You weren't used to this constraint, you were always allowed to wander on your own back at the palace. “Taehyung, I’m not a child. I can take care of myself!”

He scrunched his expression, “I know you’re not, but its-you’re injured.” He covered the stutter with another truth.

You spat back, “I never asked for this.” You brought your legs up to your chest tucking yourself in tight. You know you were being childish, but you felt so trapped. Being inside all day long was making you stir crazy. You just wanted…just wanted a moment of freedom.

He ignored the way you phrased your comeback. With a huff of anger, he hated looking at your curled up body, the way you frowned. He ran a hand through his hair. Without another word he stormed away from you and slammed his office door. Standing in the empty office his chest huffed, eyes deepening to liquid gold. He settled himself as his claws grew and fangs elongated.

He felt so lost. What other choice did he have?

He came out much later from his office. The house was dark, an extended orange shadow coming from the fireplace caught his attention. He could sense you the whole time he was in his office. He wanted to apologize, but seeing you outside had his wolf surfacing to protect you. He was angry initially, but as he rounded the corner and saw you were curled up on the couch still, staring at the roaring fireplace he felt a wave of regret. Your face had fallen, that light he had become used to seeing a twinkle in you was missing. He rubbed his tired face, his hair was sticking out of his bun, he screwed up.

He approached you like a puppy returning after being scolded to know he was still loved. He saw your jaw quirk towards his direction, but otherwise, you didn't face towards him. Your eyes were following the shadows and light of the fire.

He stood nearby, and in a voice that was warm like a hug, “I’m sorry.”

You hummed as you sipped on the drink you had made for yourself.

He sighed heavily taking a seat next to you. He half expected you to move away but you stayed seated. A finger was running the rim of your cup as you avoided looking in his direction.

"It's dangerous for an unmated kind to go outside and you're injured."

You lifted your head, catching onto an unknown word, white eyes vaguely looking in his direction. “What’s a mate?”

A hot flush overcame him. It reminded him that you still were learning about the kind. “A mate is…like a soulmate. It’s a marked kind couple that was destined by the Goddess.”

You connected the dots, “But I’m not a kind, I should be fine.” Trailing off at the end, “You said it wasn’t dangerous.”

He huffed, the words just on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Oh, how he just wanted to tell you. To tell you you were his, he wanted to grab you and mark you right here to prove a point that you were his mate. You were of the kind. His kind. He restrained himself but felt the itch within. He was glad you couldn’t see him right now, you would consider him a pathetic kind if you saw the gold swirling in his eyes.

“Kind or not, you’re an unmarked female. It’s too dangerous for you on your own.”

“I’m not incapable Taehyung, I promise I won’t cause any trouble.” You set your cup down on the coffee table and turned towards him finally.

He sighed, “No, you can’t go.”

You puffed your chest, you knew no matter how much you pushed he would only keep denying you. You wanted to explore Vantierra. The place you found yourself so curious about with a new mind. You still weren’t sure how it applied to you that you were an unmarked female.

Bluntly you asked as it slipped past your lips before your mind could catch up, “Do you have one Taehyung?”

He gulped, unsure of how to answer, but he settled on a half-truth. “I don’t.”

You nodded in understanding. A part of yourself felt relieved. You couldn't place it but imaging him already mated made your heart deflate. You enjoyed being next to Taehyung.

He reached out and took your hand and tangled it in his. You squeezed his back.

“I’ll take you out. I promise…just right now I can’t. Give me a few days.”

You lit up, the familiar smile he was used to seeing bloomed, “Really?”

He smiled, reached up with his other hand to pinch at your cheek teasingly, “Yeah. I have some things to take care of right now, but I’ll do it.”

You smiled.

A deep chuckle reverberates in your ears. “You must be bored here.”

You bit your lip feeling childish, "I've never done anything. When I was at the palace, I was always doing something?”

His ears perked up hearing you speak a bit about yourself. He pondered on it for a moment. His thumb was still stroking your cheek as you leaned into the touch, “You know, I think my sister could really use the help. Do you want me to ask her if you could help her?”

You perked up, you liked the idea. “I’d like that.”

You nodded a smile blooming on your lips. God, how he wanted to kiss them, but for now, touching you like this was enough.

True to his word he asked his sister and you found yourself helping organize her collection herbs. She made you a lavender necklace and each time you were over she’d replace it with a fresh flower. You’d take the short trip over to her place before the break of dawn with Taehyung as your escort. She was always insistent with it that you had to wear it. It brought a smile to your face, it was a thoughtful gift. While you helped out, you memorized each leaf and smell in order to place them accordingly. Your favorite was the lavender that always hung around your neck. Seeing your interest in the craft she taught you a bit of medicine when her hands weren’t occupied by the pup. Taemin was always so active. When you first came over Taemin kept you busy with questions asking about humans. You found out you were the first human he’d met. When he began asking about why humans weren’t in Vantierra you couldn’t answer him. His mother ended up pulling him away. You found that odd, but then you recalled back, the ideas you were fed about this place. It’s a given that he’d never seen a human. No one wanted to come here in fear of not making it out.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Noticing it was difficult for you finding herbs on the wall of drawers that sorted the herbs, she decided she had to do something. You had never learned how to read, but she figured out a reading system of dots poked into the paper by a needle that you could run your finger over. You practiced hard memorizing the alphabet she created with the dots. It took you a month, but you did it. She placed small cards around the room with the dots so you could easily figure things out. She let you bring home some herbs and practice simple potions. Taehyung would come home to you spread out in the living room with dotted scrolls and paper everywhere. His sister had praised you every time he came to pick you up late at night. You were learning so fast and making potions she hadn’t expected a beginner to be able to do. Taehyung bristled with pride hearing that from his sister. On long nights when Taehyung would come home late he’d find you asleep on the floor among your splayed out notes and herbs. His wolf would rumble at how precious you looked all curled up on yourself. Gently he’d always pick you up and take you into his room and tuck you in for the night. He’d place a gentle kiss to your forehead that had you sighing in delight and a small smile would appear.

You couldn’t have been happier, you can’t remember the last time you felt this happy.

Taehyung quickly began realizing his mistake with how he initially treated you. He tried to be more transparent with you. When he wasn’t away training or doing Alpha work, as he had put it, he spent the days by your side.

You hadn’t noticed outright at first until his sister mentioned it to you that she’d never seen her brother so mellow and sweet before. She’d coo each time he would pick you up and instantly you’d be engulfed in his tight embrace. It was so normal that you’d never questioned his advances. You started to pick up on how casually and gently his touches became to you. His hand was always holding yours or some part of your being was always touching one another. It left you conflicted. You remember Taehyung mentioning mates. How each kind had a mate and how he told you he didn’t have one.

Were you just someone temporary until his mate came along? Your eyes widened as you realized what you just said. You…you had developed feelings for the man. You found comfort in his touch. You wanted to be near him whenever you could, just to hear him speak. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and trailed up your throat, Oh Goddess, you…you…liked Taehyung. You liked him a lot.

You swallowed the feeling. You weren’t going to be here for long. You were going to leave. You were going to leave. You couldn’t stay. No matter what.

Purposefully you had been avoiding his touch. You pulled away gently when he would reach for an embrace in greeting, or when he'd tangle his hand in yours. You'd slip your hand out of his and pretend to be busy. Initially, he figured you were busy, but when you kept pulling away he grew weary. Had he done something wrong? It was making his wolf go insane being without your touch. At night when he was sure you were asleep, he would go for a run to burn off the energy until he'd come home burnt out.

Passing by the living room with a glass of water you glanced overhearing Taehyung adjusting his pillows and blanket. You licked your lips working up the nerves to ask. “Is it comfortable?”

His ears perked up as he stood to full height, “What is?”

You turned towards where you assumed he was, “The couch. I..I just took your room. I can sleep on the couch, it’s no big deal. I used to sleep on the floor so the couch is more than enough for me.”

A growl puttered up his throat. How could they make you sleep on the floor? He would never make you sleep on the floor.

“I’m fine, I don’t mind it.”

You heard the creaking of the couch as he sat down and your face scrunched. You set down your glass and walked over to him. You stood between his spread legs gazing down at the shadow you could faintly see staring up at you. He looked up at you in surprise, this was the closest to him you had been in a week. You were nervous. It was adorable watching your mind churn.

“Go to sleep in the room.”

“No.”

“Are all the wolves so stubborn?” you muttered under your breath.

He chuckled, “Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

He raised a hand and naturally settled it on the back of your leg out of instinct. The warmth of your skin made him purr. You didn't pull away from him so he kept it there. "The kind, we’re very protective of our women. We like to be sure they’re taken care of.”

You decided to overlook his wording, despite it sending a flush up against your system. You bit the inside of your cheek, “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch anymore Tae. It’s not good for you.”

He smiled a grin so big it stretched to his ears, his mate was so dotting and caring. In a blink of an eye, he picked you up princess style, realizing you weren’t going to back down. Why did you have to be so stubborn like he was?

You yelped clutching onto his shoulders, “Tae! Put me down.”

He continued to walk until you both were in the room together. He placed you down on the sheets. Debating for a moment, he stripped himself of his shirt and slip into the opposite side of the bed. He could control himself. He could. You felt the dip of the bed and the shuffling of sheets as he settled in. Your heart was beating loud and he could hear it. He smirked. "I won't do anything, go to sleep."

"I-I could sleep on the couch." You attempted to get up but an arm wrapped around your waist and settled you back on the bed. When he was sure you weren't going to leave he let go despite him wanting to pull you closer. "Stay."

Feeling the butterflies creep up again you gulped hard and nodded. You settled in and closed your eyes. You weren’t sure you were going to sleep as your heart was thumping. He could hear it and it became his lullaby as he fell asleep to your breathing that eventually evened out.

You woke up with tangled limbs. Your face was pressed up against his chest. You blinked away the sleep as you realized one of your hand was embraced him and your other was tangled in his hair. You’ve never felt so rested and content. You must still be dreaming. You nuzzled into his chest trying to relish in the dream.

He rumbled, pleased with your actions. He was fast asleep but it was like the wolf within was completely aware. He trailed his hand down your back tracing your curves, grazing over your ass and you gasped at the sensation.

Nope. You weren’t asleep. This was very real.

He kept going over your thigh until he was holding the crevice of your knee. He pulled your leg up and over onto his waist as he secured you to him. Your heart was racing fast in your chest. He trailed his hand back down your waist until it settled on your ass. He cupped the cheek and squeezed. You moaned unable to hold in the noise. A loud rumble answered you back as he squeezed once more.

You felt like you were going to combust. He felt you stirring underneath and clutched you tighter to him. A growl pulled back his lips exposing his teeth and fangs. You clutched at his chest whispering his name to him. A ting of fear at the aggressive sounds leaving his body. His body slowly began to relax as you called to him and with a huff that trilled his lips, he slowly blinked his eyes open. He gazed around, then to your body tucked over his. The way your eyes stared back at him wide like saucers.

He realized his mistake pulling his hand away and lowering your leg, “I’m so sorry!” He nearly stumbled out of bed as he slipped a shirt on. “I got-I gotta go train early today. I’ll be back later.”

You sat up, a flush still over your system as you could still feel his touch. You didn't get a chance to answer him back as he was already making a way out of the room and then in an echo you heard the front door.

You felt flushed and the butterflies were back.

Days passed by as normal, but he found himself sleeping on the bed at night. You’d wake up each morning tangled and each time he’d apologize. It was getting harder and harder to control himself. This morning he had woken up with you under him and he was slotted between your legs. You were looking up at him panting as he realized he had been nuzzling and nipping at your neck. The small prickings left from his shallow markings.

It was quiet for a moment he bathed in the sound of your panting. However, instead of hearing his usual apology, you turned away from him with a sad expression, "Tae, you shouldn't. You have someone waiting for you."

He stared down at you with surprise, but instead of saying something he bit back his tongue. He got up without a single word and slipped on his shirt and quietly left.

You were left laying there as a tear rolled down from the corner of your eye. You had to. You couldn’t, but the butterflies still fluttered.

You clenched your eyes shut and another tear was forced out.

You couldn’t.

--- Later

He was sweaty, hair disheveled after a long day at training. Your words haunted him, the sadness in your tone. The way you pushed him away. It was all his fault again. His father, the current Alpha of the pack, was forcing him into harder training, so he buried his mind in that all day.

When he pushed open the cabin door he called your name, “Y/n?”

When there wasn’t a response he searched around the cabin for you. He opened his bedroom door and found you asleep, curling in on yourself surrounded by notes. You slept above the blankets, which must mean you must’ve been waiting for him.

At that moment, he decided it was enough. He had to do something.

He called to you softly, “Y/n?” When your face began to scrunch you lightly stirred. He called your name out and your hand came out to reach for his. Your hands tangled in his as he brought it up to his lips and brushed them over your soft skin.

Your eyes fluttered open as you called out his name softly, “Tae?”

He chuckled, “Hey sleepyhead?”

You groaned and rubbed your head into the comforter in protest. “What time is it?”

He frowned slightly, “It’s past sunset.”

You sat up in bed nodding your head willing away a yawn. A bit of him died on the inside, you were so adorable and beautiful.

A playful feeling caused a smirk. He turned around as he kneeled by the bed. He grabbed both of your arms and pulled you towards the edge of the bed. He grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you onto his back. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and legs around his waist as he picked you up. A hot flush encompassed your being when you felt his broad back. “Tae! What-what are you doing?” He could hear your heartbeat erratically in his chest.

He chuckled. “Hold on tight. I want to show you something.”

He purred in delight when your breath tickled his neck. “Okay.”

Sneaking out the back door he let his eyes swirl amber as he let the wolf pick up on any sounds. When all he could hear was rabbits scurrying or the occasional cricket chirp he deemed it safe to move. He clutched you tighter to him as he picked up the pace and disappeared into the woods behind the cabin. You were so soothed by the heat that radiated off him you wanted to fall right back to sleep. The words still played at the back of your mind, don’t hold him close. Yet, you found your eyes slowly closing, even though you fought against them to stay open. Your head slumped into his neck.

He purred in happiness.

He walked for a mile to his favorite spot. A secluded place by the river just a bit away from the village. He began humming a melodic tune, waking you from your short slumber. Along with his husky song, your ears focus in on the crunch beneath his feet. One thing you have come to enjoy about Taehyung’s culture is their lack of shoes. The soft trickling of water fills your ears and you pulled away from his back to listen in. "We're here." Gently he let go of your feet until you found your balance. The summer air was still warm at this time of the evening. It dawned on you, it was Summer. You had been in Vantierra for a full season. You pushed down the unsettling feeling that the back of your mind was itching to remind you you weren’t here to stay.

Instead, you allowed the sound of water gently flowing fill your ears. You had never really heard it in person, only stories of bodies of water, instead of palace fountains. “Is that…is that a river?”

He beamed, “Yeah, the Vante River. This is my favorite spot. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

You smiled at that. Was he a mischievous kid like you’d imagine? You stepped closer to the shore feeling the cool breeze overcome your skin and rustle the summer dress you wore. This. This was the freedom you were looking for.

Taehyung gently took your hand, “Sit with me.” You followed along as he crouched down in front of you. He licked his lips, “I want to show you something. Something I’ve been only telling you so far, but I want to show you. All of me.”

You raised your brows, “O-okay.”

“It’s going to sound intense, but I promise I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt, but I want to show you the other me.”

You nodded.

He stepped away from you, a few feet away as he began stripping. He watched your eyes shift. Although he knew you couldn’t see him, a sense of nervousness filled him like you were watching him undress. He wanted to be vulnerable though. He wanted to be vulnerable with you. He wanted to show you who he was. When he was bare, he let the shift take over.

You heard the crackling of joints, humanistic sounds warping into something more feral before it was quiet and a few pants filled the air. You expected to feel afraid, but somehow it felt familiar to the antics. You waited until you heard thudding steps approaching you. You waited with bated breath. It was him. It was Taehyung he would never harm you. You felt softness nuzzle against you until you registered it was thick fur. With a bit more nuzzling you got the idea that he wanted you to touch him. To see him.

His wolf.

He laid down in front of you and he placed his giant head between your hands. You ran your hands over his large skull that was a width past your shoulders. You softly ran your thumbs underneath his eyes, then along his long muzzle. His jaw was large, his skull was heavy in your hands. You trailed down his neck, massaging behind his pointed ears to reward him. He purred and you could feel the vibrations roll up your arms. You paused and asked, “Can I continue?”

He huffed in a response; you could hear his tail thumping on the grass. You chuckled. He was such a puppy trapped in an oversized wolfs body. You felt down to his shoulders and his body expanded. He was a very large beast. His fur was so soft, it was thick and regardless of how many times you combed through it with your fingers, you felt like you'd never reach skin. You wandered the color. In passing Tae had told you he had dark hair, so you assumed it to be the same. He was sturdy, thick and muscular. At that moment you wanted to curl up and lay on his side. He was large enough like a full mattress.

His gleaming brown eyes watched as your face twitched and a smile would bloom as you traced about him. He wanted to pounce and smother you in kisses.

“I finally understand why they call you Big Bear.”

A chuffing sound hicked his body as what you could only assume was a laugh from the wolf. You ruffled his fur bring your hands back to cup his face. “You have so much light around you Taehyung. I wish I could stay forever.”

All happiness built had died out. Before you knew it he pulled back and you heard the tale signs he had shifted back. The crackling of bones and a groan filled the air before heat radiated around you once again. “Stay,” he pleaded.

You gulped, trying to pull your hand away, “I can’t—.”

He shuffled closer and you felt his sweltering heat. He was dreading this; he knew that he couldn’t keep it from you much longer. He knew he’d have to tell you, but he didn’t want to tell you like this. He was hoping that you would forget everything and just stay by his side.

“Why?” He asked desperately. You tried pulling away but he held you tight, “Why?”

Speaking out all your insecurities, “I don’t belong.”

Through pants, he came back up to you taking your hands to cup his human cheeks again. "Feel, feel my face."

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you obliged. You felt over his defined features, his jawline, and a prominent nose. Then your thumbs moved along the side of his nose to feel the dips into his deep, linear eyes. You then smooth down his thick strong brows before you bring your hands back down to cup his cheeks.

“Tae—?”

“This is me. The wolf is me. All of it is me. I want you to see me. I want you to see me, for who I am.”

He breathed in heavily taking in your scent as it filled his lungs with happiness once again. He could smell you still despite the lavender, your sweet scent was always strong to him. “There is something I haven’t told you.”

You quirked your head, what has he been keeping from you?

“I told you there is something among my kind that is special to our kind. It’s a blessing by the Moon, but you, you were a misfortune. It should’ve never happened”

Your face falls in hurt. Your heart ached to know he thought of you as such. You were misfortune.

He squeezed your hands, “A human and a kind should never happen, it would only bring death.”

Your mouth drops, your mind swirling. He holds you gently rubbing your cheek like you were porcelain. “But you…you broke the legend. Mates are only supposed to be between the kind, but you…you changed that.” He finally confesses, “You are meant to be here. You are meant to be…with me. You, you are my mate.”

Your mind was working a million miles an hour. Didn’t he tell you he didn’t have one? You were so confused. You whispered out to him afraid to break the tension, “What?”

He leaned down and held your foreheads together, “It means that you and I…we’re connected.”

You kept whispering to him, “Didn’t you say you didn’t have one?”

He sighed heavily, “I lied. I didn’t want to scare you.”

He brought away from your hand that had stayed firmly on his cheeks and laced your hands together. He brought them to your chest first, tapping over your heart before he brought it to his bare chest. His body still nude from the shift, but it was natural to him. It was natural to him to be this vulnerable in front of you. In a warm embracing voice, “You and I are connected by the soul, bestowed by the Moon. You are my other half.”

Your jaw dropped, your body felt weak. You…you were Taehyung’s mate? You were Taehyung’s mate.

Sensing your processing he finally asked what he’d been holding in. “Why were you in that cave?”

You licked your lips, “I ran away.” Gulping you confessed, “They wanted to take my eyes away, I was supposed to be sacrificed.”

He growled within his chest; anger rippled through him. “Then stay, stay with me. I’ll protect you. Nothing is more important to me than you.” He tilted your chin back, “Do you want that?”

You thought it over for a moment. You wanted that. You wanted safety. You wanted to be in his arms. You’ve never felt more right. The butterflies were going rampid within your chest as, finally, you felt them being unleashed. You were afraid. Afraid this whole time that this would just be temporary. A sense of overwhelm filled you, mixed with happiness. You nodded your head, pressing it up against his forehead again. “I’ll stay.”

He purred in happiness. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. Unexpectedly he leaned down and left a kiss on the dip of your neck between your shoulder. When he pulled back up he rumbled the words to you that felt like had been branded where he pecked, “Mate.”

He pressed his soft lips to yours and it felt like the world had collapsed around you. It was just you and him as you returned the press. He pulled away after the short peck. Both your lips pulled back as you giggled and chuckled. It felt so right. He grabbed the back of your neck and angled your head as he pressed his lips against yours again and again.

You spent the rest of the evening there basking in each other presence. You couldn't really believe it. Taehyung was your mate. He whispered it over and over to you again as he held you tight. Everything in his instincts was telling him it was too risky to mark you outside. He wanted you back at home where he could mark you freely.

As he stepped closer to the cabin the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. He could smell something in the air and he knew what it was. He set you down and turned to you whispering, “Stay close.”

You obliged holding onto his hand tight as you both entered the cabin through the back door. He stepped into the kitchen with you protectively behind him. He knew the day would come and he had to face it.

Rounding the corner and walking down the hall you both came to the living room with a man hunched over sitting on the couch. The fireplace was crackling with life as it glimmered on the side of the man's face. You could hear the telling creaking of the couch as someone stood.

“A human Taehyung!” The voice boomed through the cabin.

Taehyung protectively kept you behind him. “Alpha, it’s not—.”

You connected the dots, this must be Taehyung’s father.

“You thought the lavender would keep me from smelling the human.” He spat causing you to shiver, “I could smell her on you. Do you realize what you’ve done, son? Harboring a human!”

“She’s not just a human, she’s my mate.”

His father laughed, anger elevating “Mate, Ha!” His eyes narrowed, “Son, how? How is she your mate, she would be dead.”

You clutched to Taehyung tighter. Taehyung squeezed your hand back. Were you going to die?

The front door burst open and you were forced away from him. Taehyung growled and ripped you from them but four betas attacked him. He growled, fangs elongating, eyes swirling in a blood amber. You were ripped away from Taehyung by his father. You tried fighting but his father had a tight grip on you. You pleaded, “Please, he didn’t do anything wrong!”

Taehyung roared, “NO! LET ME GO!”

“Son, you’ve endangered us.”

“NO! SHE’S MY MATE!”

The Alpha shouted back, shaking the walls and it vibrated within you, “IMPOSSIBLE!”

The four betas holding down Tae had him kneeling as they used every muscle to restrain him.

The alpha payed you no mind. “How dare you make a fool out of me Son.”

You screamed as you were shoved from his father to a beta to apprehend you. All the betas growled as Taehyung was thrusting out of the kneeling position. His shoulders were expanding, shirt tearing as he felt the shift overcome him. He was furious. They knew he was going to overpower them easily. A beta carefully held a stem of a tulip and then shoved the bulb of the tulip to Taehyung’s nose. Instantly he had a reaction as Taehyung began coughing and groaning in pain. The room around him began spinning.

Panic filled your system, you had no idea what was going on. Your chest ached, as you felt pain ripple in your chest faintly. It felt like you were suffocating. Coughing as well, you still tried calling out for him, “Taehyung! Taehyung! What’s going on?”

His head began spinning. You heard muttering about a tulip, then it struck you. His sister had warned you about brining flowers in the house when you commented that there weren’t flowers in her collection of herbs and spices. She told you that most wolves were extremely allergic that specific ones could put them into a coma. Like…a tulip.

“Tae! Taehyung! Taehyung, please, please don’t hurt him!”

He growled as he slumped, sweat was pouring down his face as he tried keeping away. “Let her go!”

His father tilted his head back commanding the room, “Take her.”

He watched you get dragged away from him and out of the cabin as his vision began to fade around the edges of his eye. He roared your name before he collapsed to the floor. In pants he turned his head and watched them drag you away and you struggled to call his name.

“Y/N!” he got out before his vision completely faded.

--- Hours later.

Four of them dragged his weak body into the arena handcuffs around his wrist and shackles around his ankles. Wolf steel that even he wouldn’t be able to break. He was dropped unceremoniously in the center of the arena. In a groan, he collapsed onto his knees. Slowly he raised his spine as his ripped shirt barely held up on his being from the earlier partial shift. The flickering orange flames from the fire bowls that surrounded the arena deepened Taehyung’s dark expression.

He sensed your presence before you appeared from the shadows. You were brought out by two beta’s and held within their grasp on the side of the ring through a trap door. Your hands were cuffed as well. He growled at the way they handled you. How dare they handle you like an object.

A voice tore his attention to the council of elders that were all seated in a row in a seat box. “Taehyung, you’ve brought a human into Vantierra. Do you understand what you’ve done?” Taehyung avoided the gaze of his father who sat among the council. The eldest member sat in the center and slowly rose from his chair in a tremble.

Taehyung spoke honestly in front of the council and to the pack that had filled the arena to witness his trial. “She’s my mate.”

A hushed gasped surged through the whole crowd, mumbles erupted and the council’s expression hardened. The eldest still standing voice echoed through, “Silence!” He cleared his throat, “Taehyung, do you realize that is impossible, no human can ever be a mate of a kind. You’ve committed treason against the pack and the Gods.”

Taehyung pushed up from his kneeling posting until he swayed on his feet. The shackles and chains jangled in his movements, but he was determined to stand. “I’m not lying. She is my mate.”

A female voice rung out of the council, “Bring her.” The two betas pushed you forward until you were in the arena and they brought you next to Taehyung. He whispered your name to you. Your eyes flicked around until you found where the voice was coming from and you whispered it back to him. He wanted to touch you, to check if you were okay, but he restrained himself. He knew he couldn’t at the moment.

You stood straight. You had no idea what to expect. Your skin was bristling, you could tell countless eyes were on you.

You heard footsteps amongst the hushed murmurs approaching you both until they stood in front of you. Taehyung knew who she was, the woman who approached you both cloaked in a white robe. She was the moon priestess. She waved her staff over you; it held a crystal ball at the end that glimmered as she waved it over you, glowing ominously. She brought the staff towards her and gazed into it swirling her hand over the crystal. She hummed and ah-ha-ed until she looked between the both of you.

In a crackly voice that was barely used she announced, “It is true. She is his mate.”

The crowd gasped again.

Her crystal ball light up and began glowing. She peered into it then back to you with surprise written all over her features. “Your eyes.”

Your head turned in the priestess direction as she explained. “Your parents made a deal with Her.”

You had never known them, but you had always wondered about them. You were told you were dropped off at the palace not long after your birth.

She continued, “You weren’t meant to live, child. But your mother pleaded with the Goddess to give you life when no other Gods would listen to their plea. She gave you life, a bit of her life, but in exchange for something. The Goddess took your sight in the deal.”

“You, you my dear are meant to serve the moon here. She wants you to watch over the kind. To be of the kind.”

You were speechless. You were here because of a Goddess? Your mouth was agape as you tried finding the right words. It was hard to think with the hushed murmurs coming from every direction.

“Priest, how can that be true! She is human.”

The woman turned towards the council, “The moon chose what she chose. She is our guardian of the kind and the Moon here.”

The council of elders grumbled, and growled, upset their traditions were being shaken. Mostly they were unsatisfied that the possibly next in line Alpha would have a Human mate, regardless if she was chosen by the Goddess. It was against tradition! They couldn't stand the thought of their pack being tainted by a human.

The eldest of the council spoke, “The Moon may have mated them, but on our soil, the pack isn’t going to be safe under the rule of a kind with a non-kind. He cannot be Alpha.”

Taehyung’s father for the first time broke gaze on him and heaved in a semblance of offense at the elder.

“Elders! That’s not true!” He had been training his whole life to become the Alpha.

“Unfair? Child, fate is unfair. You are unworthy.”

He bit back a growl, “Let me prove it. Let me prove to you in an Altura!”

A hushed gasp floated through the crowd. He circled gazing at the arena eyeing the other sons who were in the audience, who’ve also trained their whole life to become Alpha. “Let’s fight for it here, once and for all. Let’s settle it now who is to be the next Alpha of Vantierra.”

The eldest laughed as well as a chuckle rung through the council. His father’s expression remained hard and staring at him.

You whispered to him, “Taehyung, please.” It was stupid. You weren’t worth all the trouble.

You tried calling out to him but he growled at you. “This is my culture, our ways, I will prove it. I’ll prove to them that you are my mate, that I’m the next Alpha.”

In the next moment, you were being taken away by the betas. You shouted for him, but it was drowned out by the elder's announcement. “Taehyung of the Kim clan, prove it, prove it under the soil nourished by the Moon, in front of everyone that you are worthy. That you and your human mate are worthy.”

Through a distance call, you heard your name being called as the betas dragged you away and out of the arena. Dasom wrapped her arms around you uncaring of the warning growls of the betas. You held onto her tightly. She pulled you close to her holding you in her arms. His mother stood next to you as well, clutching your shoulders, “It’s going to be alright, y/n. He’ll win. My son is strong.”

His shackles and handcuffs were removed as the other contending alpha’s entered the area. Each distinct to their region around Vantierra. Taehyung kept his shoulders squared as he was glaring at each contender returning their dominance. Bloodlust already filled their eyes. Each contender’s hair was just about as long as Taehyung’s. As they all stood in a circle facing one another an omega approached each Alpha and tied their hair into the ritual ponytail. His father stepped down from the box and approached behind him. His father brought up a blade and sawed off the ponytail. His short hair cascaded down his face in a rugged cut that fell over his eyes. His father went around to each contender and gathered their ponytail.

The hair was given to the priestess. She raised it to the Moon chanting a blessing in the name of the Goddess. “Reveal the next true alpha, the true alpha of Vantierra.” She tossed all the hair into a fire bowl and the fire expanded as if it took a deep breath before it settled.

Stripping himself of clothing along with the other contenders, he let the shift take over as observed the other five do the same. The silence was filled with cracking bones and then feral growls. Near black fur took over his being as his large claws extend, his fangs elongated past his lips and he reached the final form to be as big as the size of a brown bear. His being was large, but the others were nearly as large as he was. He growled and when the elder called for battle all five lunged at him.

You wanted to dig your face into his sister's shoulder, but you kept your ears tuned in. You kept your ears open for Taehyung. The sounds of it all were terrifying with grotesque sounds of flesh and bones crunching. It all vibrated your being.

His jaw was extended as far wide as it would go when he clamped down on a brown wolf. The intention of the Altura is to never kill but to incapacitate everyone until there was only one standing. The wolf yelped and howled as Tae snapped the limb. His body was thrust off the brown wolf as another slammed into his body sending him rolling and jaw already snapping at another. He was still dizzy from the tulip and it was frustrating him that he wasn't performing at his best. His hearing was ringing in his ears and in a moment of weakness, his leg was bit. He growled and flipped around bitting the wolf in an all kill bit rendering him out of the Altura.

You tugged on Dasom's sleeve, "Is there any way we can stop this?"

She shook her head hugging you tight, “No, he has to do this. No one can help him.”

You wanted to cry as you heard painful sounds and you had no idea where they were coming from. Your mind was filtering the worst. What if Taehyung was going to die?

Jaws clashing, bodies slammed into one another as roars of pain and success filled the air. His body was slammed against a pillar holding a fire bowl sending the flames and embers into the ring. The embers caught on his fur but he shook them off as he stood. It happened in a blink of an eye, I was only him and one other contender. The other alpha was already circling the ring, rounding the fire pit created in the center of the ring. He had enough of playing nice. He picked his heavy body up and growled at his contender as he circled the other around the pit. He watched the flickering, feral gaze of the other wolf, but his eyes were reflecting the same intensity. As if on cue they both lunged for one another over the fire clashing mid-air. It was difficult to see, the smoke from the fire had created a thick cloud over the arena. He was able to track a vague silhouette and he charged for it slamming his being into the other. He pressed the wolf down holding him down with his weight as he bit the wolf shoulder with a crunch. An ending bite. A pained howl filled the air as the other alpha slumped. He released his jaw from the other wolf letting the blood drool from his jaw.

Emerging from the smoke he rises back in his human form. His hair tapered to his head covered in sweat as he panted. He had won. He leaned his head back with a howl to the Moon in victory.

Dasom next to you began howling, “He won! He won y/n!”

Your body instantly relaxed and knees felt weak, but luckily Dasom was holding you up. He had won. Taehyung had won. He was the next alpha. You were going to be able to stay. He broke misfortune.

He proudly approached the council as he limped towards the seat box. Taehyung’s father stood with a proud smile, with a loud booming voice he announced, “Vantierra! Your next Alpha!”

The council all started at Taehyung in contempt but they made no comment. They had to accept it. He was their new leader. The crowd cheered with a mixture of howling and hoots.

His father stepped away from his spot and came towards him. Taehyung watched carefully as handed his son the blade. “I’m sorry son.”

Holding back a smile Taehyung gripped the blade in his rust-stained hands, "I'm not the one you need to apologize to father." His father turned towards you, realizing he was gravely wrong as he nodded. He turned his back towards his son as Taehyung carefully he cut his father ponytail that reached the back of his knees. Holding up his father’s hair he tossed it into the fire then the ritual was over. Taehyung was the Alpha of Vantierra.

One being started then the whole crowd followed as in unison the pack howled to the moon upon the new initiation. Letting the Goddess know of the new choice.

He turned towards you as his sister had whispered into your ears. His mother pushed you forth. You heard his heavy steps towards you and you were pulled into his embrace. You wrapped your arms tight around his sticky back holding him tight for dear life. Tears were streaking down your face, “Don’t ever do something like that again.”

He laughed wholeheartedly kissing your forehead before he captured your lips. “My mate.”

You whispered it back to him for the first time, “My mate.”

You could stay.

--- Months later.

Even after the Altura, the adrenaline hadn’t worn off. He was constantly busy with smaller inauguration rituals, duties to the pack and taking on responsibilities he had been training his whole life for. You barely had time to see him. Now that the whole pack knew of your existence you were expected to take on new responsibilities being the mate of the Alpha. You were the Luna as they often addressed you. However, with the new title, it didn't immediately bring acceptance from the pack.

It wasn’t easy, people had a hard time approaching you since you were human. But it all changed when you found a real knack in healing. A family came when you were alone cleaning up Dasom’s shop. Their pup had been gravely sick. The growled for Dasom, but you told them she was out. You took the chance and told them you could help. You were their best shot at the time.

You checked over the child as Dasom had taught you and you put together a potion that you had memorized in passing. You administered it and the child began to regain consciousness, the paleness seeped from her skin and she glowed rosy again. Her parents were in disbelief, but they thanked you over and over again.

The word had spread and from that point on slowly you had gained the trust of the pack.

You finally had a home.

Taehyung came home late, exhausted after a long day of democracies. When he opened the door to his cabin all he wanted to do was fall asleep. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting with your back to the couch and you had scrolls and notes all around the living room floor. He couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up his throat. You were holding a needle between your teeth. He crept over to you and picked it between your teeth and pushed it into your pushpin.

“Hey! I was—.” He leaned down and encased your lips with his.

He smiled against your lips, “Hello baby.”

You smiled returning the greeting. He clamored around your notes and sat behind you encasing you between his legs as he leaned forward brushing the hair away from your forehead before he placed a soft peck there. You smelled exceptionally sweeter today. He found You hummed in delight.

“What are you doing baby?”

You brought your hand up and trailed it up to his hand and then up to his arm gently rubbing until you clutched his hand. “There’s a flu going around and I wanted to practice and memorize all the potions to help out Dasom.”

He purred and he leaned down to your ear, “My mate is so sweet.” Really, you smelled so sweet.

You giggled as his warm breath tickled your neck. You adjusted your posture as you switched into a crossed leg position. A wave of heat came over his system and he’s trembling. He begins breathing heavily through his nose.

You notice the change, “Taehyung, are you alright.”

He's panting into your neck, voice oddly steely, “Shit.”

You raised a brow, none the wiser to what was going on. “Tae?”

“Are you…are you—.” He growled out as his lips pulled over his gums, he could smell it. You were very fertile right now. A primal sensation within you probably was telling you to run, get far away, but with ease practice now you knew he would never hurt you. He peppered the side of your head with kisses and he wanted to kiss down your neck but you were out of reach. With his big hands, he picked you easily up off the floor and situated you in his lap with your back pressed to his chest.

He instantly found his way to your neck with his adventurous lips. “Taehyung—ugh.”

He groaned at the small sounds you were making. He was blazing hot. Your back was soaked as his shirt was soaked transparent through with his sweat. His complexion was completely flushed and pupils were blown out wide. That was odd, it was nearing winter, the winter fire couldn't you warm enough. “Baby.”

You turned around in his lap and he let you maneuver. You placed a hand on his cheek then moved to his forehead, “Baby, you’re running a fever.”

His brows knitted together as you swept as the sweat dripping from his hairline.

He captured your lips pulling you deeper into the straddling position. You tried pulling back but he had your lips under his control. His hands grasp your waist tightly kneading your hips. You gasped, but you still fought for logic, “Taehyung, you’re sick.”

“No, I’m-I’m in heat.” He was panting as he confessed. His eyes were locked on your gold marbling in white.

You squinted, biting back the embarrassment, that was another thing you didn’t know. “Taehyung, what’s a ‘heat’?”

He squeezed your hips again bringing his hands down as they cupped your ass. He pushed you forward and you felt something nudge at your core. You gasped grasping onto his shoulders for stability. He sounded very unwell voice gruff and he was on edge. He chuckled, leaning into pepper your neck in a few sloppy kisses. "It means I want you. I want to make you all mine, breed you."

“You’re ovulating and it must’ve brought mine on early.” You blushed suddenly aware that he could sense your recent bleeding.

You gulped at the last implication, “You have me, you have all of me.”

He pressed you down again on him eliciting another sound from you. “As you have all of me, but this, this was the connection I told you about.” Another growl rumbled his chest as he pulled your lips to his hard then pulled back for you both catch your breath. “I need to mark you.”

You weren’t sure what that was. He growled possessively and I didn’t deter you instead it set your core tightening.

The Alpha’s gaze filtered over your soft features caressing them gently between his hands. “Would you like me to tell you or show you?”

You licked your lips, “Both.”

It was an odd mixture to the world a human and a kind, but it was bizarrely poetic.

He growled. He captured your lips eagerly again biting at your lip until you he prodded with his tongue when you moaned. His eager tongue found your reluctant motion, but a possessive moan from his gave you a bit more courage to mimic his motions. You tasted so good on his tongue, like honey. “I’m going to claim you as mine, leave you with my mark for all to see.“ He kissed his way down your neck and found a spot that suited the mark the best. “Here, I will leave my mark here.”

Slowly he was thrusting up into you and you gasped. “And here, I will make you mine here.”

You whined and he swallowed the sounds in a searing kiss. You chased his lips with equal eager. A lust was building in your loins that had your legs trembling with excitement. No man has ever touched you this way. Your rational was sent into the fireplace as you felt his delirium rub off onto you. You wanted him too.

“I want to kiss all your soft human being. I want to hold each of your curves in my hands and bury myself in your cunt. I want to fill you ‘till your brimming with me. I want to have it all as you have all of me.” You shivered at his filthy words, but you liked it as you squeezed your legs around him. He groaned as your scent got stronger, he could practically feel you as your defense between him was your panties under your dress. He was working himself up and he combusted when you whimpered, “Please.” He pulled you up wrapping your legs tight around his waist in an inescapable embrace. You buried your head in his neck and peppered kisses there as you knew he liked. You were teasing his beast, you little minx.

Twirling you around he pinned you to the wall next to your shared bedroom. In a moment your reminded of his massive built as his biceps clutch you tight and his torso engulfs you caging you to the wall. He chuckled in your ear sending goosebumps lit on your skin. He dropped to the floor on his knees as he stuck his head to your pelvic bone inhaling your sweet arousal.

A blush overcame you, you tried pushing his head away but he growled at you, “Taehyung!”

He skimmed the side of your leg dipping up and under your dress splaying his hand over your thigh. He peppered kisses over the cloth of your dress. “Let me taste you.” You stuttered and he responded by nuzzling, “Only a taste.” You found yourself falling into a role of submission, you wanted his touch, you wanted it badly. You nodded, too embarrassed to vocalize it. He pulled off your panties and tossed them somewhere. Immediately your scent hit him like a wave that had him growling passively. His eyes had completely filtered out the gold and he was sure they were glowing red. He lifted your leg and settled it over his broad, bronze shoulder. You dug your hand into his hair trying to stabilize yourself. He licked a thick strip up your slit. His lips were pulling again exposing his fangs in a lust craze, you were too good. Too sweet to be true. “I’m going to need more than a taste.”

You called out his name but it was swallowed in a choke as he began lapping around your entrance. He moved up and around teasing your clit occasionally. Your eyes roll back in your head, you’ve never experience pleasure like this. He was soaking up all your moans. He used a long finger as he prodded around your entrance with the digit. He pressed a single finger inside, and you whined scrunching your expression. He shushed and hushed you as he slowly worked it in you. The slight stretch was painful initially, but it was quickly replaced by the pleasure that had you moaning again. He purred, "That's my good mate." He brought his lips back. If you could look down now you would see his wild expression as he looked near deranged, drowning in your juices.

When you relaxed around his digit he fit in another then another. He praised you, “You’re doing so good taking my fingers.” He worked his three fingers into you. Your body felt feeble as his digits ran over all the right places you had no idea existed within you. He wanted to get deeper taste more of you, so he ripped his fingers from your cunt and sucked all the essence from his fingers. He wasn’t going to waste a drop. He then tossed your other leg over his shoulder. Your hips naturally jerked towards him but he pinned you to the wall with both of his hands wrapped around your thighs. You were fastened to the wall like a frame. You yelped as you draped your legs over his broad shoulders. “T-tae!”

He devoured at you like a starved man. He couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste that kept flowing from you. He could feel you shaking, you were close. He commanded in between licked, “Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

You were trembling as he focused on sucking at your clit before it sent you over the edge. You clenched your eyes tightly as your mouth fell agape in a silent scream. The pleasure was unlike you had felt before. He kept licking at you despite the sensitivity. You were panting and pushing at his head, “Tae, It-it hurts.” He finally leaned back and lowered your feet to the floor. He caught you before you were about to fall as he picked you up not trusting you could walk.

He flung open the bedroom door and laid you on the bed as the blankets huffed around you. His shirt was drenched in sweat. He tore the garment off and with a heavy wet thud, it hit the floor. He was losing himself. The heat was progressing along faster than he expected. It wasn’t his first heat, but everything felt more intense for him. He stripped himself down until he was bare, he couldn’t stand being in clothing anymore.

He crawled over you taking your jaw in his hand as his lips found yours again. It wasn’t a sweet kiss it was full of lust. You could taste yourself on his lips but it didn’t repulse you. Your tounges meshed together trying to pull the most from one another. He pressed his forehead to yours and he took your hand and brought it to his length. Your hand pulled back feeling unfamiliar flesh. He held your hand tight, “Feel me, baby. I want you to feel me too."

Licking your lips you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your gasp was muted under his sound as you felt how big he was. Your jaw slacked as you felt precum coat your hand. His cock was hot in your hands as you ran your hand over the head of the call and down the shaft. Your hand barely fit around the girth. He moaned as you tighten your grasp around him in test. Towards the end of the shaft was two bumps that then tapered off. He trembled over you, "Think you can handle it, baby?"

You licked your lips unsure, but you wanted him. You wanted to feel all of him. “Yes.”

His pupils eclipse into a blood moon. He needed to be deep within you now. He had been restraining himself for so long. He wanted to fuck you until he couldn’t think straight, but he was already accomplishing that.

He ran the tip along your slit collecting all your essence despite the syrup dripping from his tip. Despite the heat taking over he was still cautious with you. He held your hips tightly within his near claws. He pushed in inch for inch past your folds and into your welcoming tight entrance. He paused at your entrance put up resistance against him. He massaged your hips urging you to relax with peppering kisses to your neck as he leaned down. “So good for me.” When he felt you relax he pushed in further. The pressure was painful as the stretch was beyond what you expected. He was large. He stilled waiting for you after a few inches. “I’m halfway, love, let me in.” Taking a deep breath you nodded and it escaped you the next moment he shoved himself the rest of the way in. You clawed at his shoulders throwing your head back to combat the pain. He caressed the side of your face placing kisses all around, “Are you okay?”

Sweat was dripping down your temple. He had paused before the bulb at the end of his shaft. “Oh my Goddess, Taehyung.” He kissed at you in apology. He couldn’t deny the vice clench around him told him you were going to feel good in a moment. He knew you’d be his tight bitch.

You nodded after a moment, the pleasurable sensation coming back to you. “It feels good.”

He licked at your neck where he wanted to make his claim. He murmured into your neck, “My mate. My precious mate.”

He pulled out shallow and then thrusted back in watching your expression contour. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He dipped down and captured your lips as he picked up speed. “I want to fuck you until I can’t anymore and fill you up so good that your belly is swollen.” He pawed at your hips, “You were meant to bare my pups, would you like that baby?”

You shivered at the thought. He growled still thrusting into you, “You like that? You got so much wetter love.” You barely was able to nod as a shivered racked through your body as his tongue circled over your nipple. He nearly gobbled up the flesh in his mouth as he ravaged your chest. Your mind was hazy as you were receiving so much pleasure.

He was like a wild beast over you. His cock felt like it was nearly tearing you in half, but somehow your body accommodated for him. It was like it knew it all along and it was made for this. He kept telling you so, “You were made for this, you were made for me.”

You pulled him to you and kissed his neck nibbling on a spot similar to where he had been. He rumbled, "You're very kind like y/n."

You giggled but kept at it. You wanted to mark him too. You wanted the world to know he was yours too. “Your mine too.”

He glanced down at you in chance and his jaw slackened. He was bewitched by you. You had made him into a feverish man. He wanted to protect you with his whole being. He rumbled in approval, “I am, I’m all yours.”

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. The heat was pushing him to the edge faster than he’s ever been. He placed his hands on the back of your knees thrusting in deeper. You were panting crying and scratching his shoulders. He leaned in and peppered kisses on your lips then down your jaw to your neck. He marred the skin with his bruises until he found the spot he had decided on earlier. “Mine, my mate.”

He licked at the spot. His fangs grew from their socket as he felt you squeezing his cock. With his other hand, he brought it down to your clit. “Come for me. Come on my cock.” As commanded the string holding you tight snapped and you constricted his cock as you convulsed. He leaned down and extend his jaw as he clamped around your shoulder. His fangs sunk in easily into your soft flesh until he reached his gums. Blood trickled from the bite down your clavicle onto your cleavage. The blinding pain radiated out for a moment until it catapulted your pleasure further and your body was drowning in euphoria.

He shoved his cock all the way inside you as your entrance stretched around the knot. A wail escaped your throat as you cried out at the pain that returned. When he was satisfied with his mark he pulled his teeth out and licked up the blood. He murmured praised into you attempting to soothe you. "It's going to be okay, relax baby, relax."

You groaned as all his cock finally set in you. He was still frantically thrusting shallowly in you and you were wiggling from oversensitivity. You thought it was near over until you felt him expanding within you. “Tae, wha-it-it hurts.”

He pushed your legs together as he leaned down over you moaning. “Shhh—ahhhghhhhhhh—ugh, H-hold on, Baby."

His heavy cock was halted in its rutting as the expansion stopped him from moving any further. He whined at your tight cunt clenched around him. Panic filled your system, what was going on? You wanted to push him off but he caged you in his embrace. He whispered in your ears, “Hold on, ugh-ah-just hold on.” Tears escaped the edge of your eye just when you thought the expanding couldn’t go anymore it stopped. A molten heat shot into you as you shivered. He kept cumming, filling you with his heat painting your walls with his semen. He was still painfully hard as he gasped and moaned.

Goddess, you felt like you were going to rip. You called out his name cupping his cheek. His lips found yours, “You can handle it, I know you can.”

You shook your head you weren’t sure you were able to. He leaned down and licked at the mark and murmured against it, “You can.” You winced as your shoulder was sore. He licked over the wound tending to it. You hissed at the first lick but slowly it felt soothing. He purred as he pulled you close to him. “My mate.”

It all stopped, he had filled you with all he could. His cock plugged you up and held all his cum inside you. It was quiet between you both as you both spent moments bonding. You relished in the feeling of his body above you. The pain simmered to a hum leaving you aware of your protruding pelvis. Although when you tried squirming away he pinned your hips down, “Stay.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, “I love you.”

You returned the expression with a dumb smile plastered on your face, “I love you too.”

He flopped onto his side holding you tight to him with his cock still inside you as you buried your head in his chest despite the heat between you both. He gazed out the window at the moon that was high in the sky. He smiled then leaned down and pecked your forehead. He was grateful to the Moon.

You were supposed to be a misfortune, but he's never felt more fortunate in his life. This was where he was supposed to be, where you were supposed to be.

Right here with him, his fortune.

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inanotherheadspace · 4 years ago

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The Adventures of Team Lune - Chapter Three: The Tale of Two Kitties

Summary: A dragon slayer, a demon slayer, and a god slayer walk into a Guild Hall… and all goes to hell

Pairings: Natsu x Fem OC, Gajeel x Fem OC, Gray x Fem OC, Sting x Fem OC, Laxus x Fem OC, Loke x Fem OC

Word Count: 2,817

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

“How long are we talking about?” Gajeel quipped as Calypso poured the Jasmine tea into two matching mugs.

“Well, I should probably start with how Team Lune was formed-”

“I just wanna know about Astria’s damn cat.”

“That’s the thing, she’s not just Ria’s cat. Opal just likes Ria the best.” Calypso smiled softly to the gruff dragon slayer as she placed his mug in front of him before taking her seat.

“Thank you.” He mumbled before picking up the pale pink mug and blowing on its hot contents. “How’d you join the guild and meet them then?”

“Oh, the wolves set me free after mastering my magic and I just kinda stumbled into the guild hall.” Gajeel almost choked on his tea at her statement.

“Wolves?”

“Yeah, the only way you can learn Moon magic is from this one eternal wolf pack. Like how you, Ria, and Natsu were trained by dragons. Funny enough, because of my training, I also have a good sense of smell and hearing. My nose isn’t as strong as my ears are though.”

“Just like we do,” Gajeel mumbled, more so to himself than to anyone else. The plumette across from him simply nodded before taking a sip of her tea. “How’d you end up with the wolves?” Calypso’s eyes dropped to her hands as she began to play with her fingers.

“I don’t know much more than what Leto told me. Apparently, my mother was killed, there was a battle, maybe even a war – all I know is that our home was destroyed. My mother was a student of the wolves when she was a kid, so she left me with them while she fought.”

“Leto, is that your wolf?”

“Hmm, in a sense yes. She’s the pack leader. I have the same loyalty to her and my pack as you dragon slayers have to your respective dragons.” After a momentary pause to drink more tea, the mage continued. “Ria came to the guild with Natsu, and May was found outside the Guild’s doors as a newborn. For the longest time, Ria stuck to Natsu and May was oddly drawn to Mystogan. Both were very shy – all of us were as kids. I became friends with Cana, the two of us would go on the jobs Master approved of. The three of us never really became close until Mystogan left on an S-Class quest. Master demanded that May stay back, that was a dark day. This strong kid that I always looked up to just, broke.” Gajeel kept his eyes on Calypso as her eyebrows drawn together as she focused on the cup in her hands.

“Master eventually got tired of May’s attitude and moodiness. He decided to take Ria away from Natsu and me away from Cana. Without telling any of us, he sent us out individually to the same job. We all left mere hours apart no less, none of us caught on until we all showed up at the same door for the requested meeting time. It was a simple job – just to find a lost item. Gramps figured we could find it easy. Between mine and Ria’s tracking skills and May’s all-around bossiness – it was done by nightfall. We’ve been together ever since.”

“Thats nice and all, but I only want to know about the cat.” Gajeel grumbled before finishing his tea.

“A good story is informative and well rounded. It’s a form of art and in this house, you’ll respect it.” She quipped back; her eyes flicked up to meet his in a demanding stare down.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” He matched her intense glare as the words left his lips. A sinister smirk spread across Calypso's face, sending a slight shiver down the Iron Dragon Slayer’s spine.

“Well, for starters, you wouldn’t ever make it out of this house. What happens after that – probably a few broken ribs, lots of chains, and maybe a whip.” She broke eye contact with him as an almost undetectable trace of blush speckled her face. Gajeel’s trained eyes picked up on it quickly, before a faint blush appeared on his own face after her words sunk in. The slight silence became unbearable for Calypso, her hands began to fidget with her mug once more.

“We got Opal as a reward from a quest. It was weird – they gave us this light pink egg with silver and black sparkles and swirls on it. None of us had any clue what to do with it. When we got back to the guild, we found out Natsu and Lisanna had found one in the forest as well. Ria, May and I joined them in the woods to hatch the eggs. Well, whenever May was actually around the five of us kept the two eggs warm – that was really Natsu’s specialty.” As Calypso spoke and reminisced, a smile stayed on her lips. A small laugh escaped her as she thought more on the story before continuing.

“I was no help at all, and the others realized that pretty quickly. They put me in charge of gathering firewood and food. I mostly just avoided the place; they were holed up in the same woods my wolves are usually in too. So, I just hung around them more than anything. After about two weeks, Happy and Opal’s eggs hatched. They’ve been with us and a part of the guild since.”

Before either of them could get another word in, the front door opened, and three voices could be heard. Calypso’s face lit up as her friends had arrived home, her tea and Gajeel completely forgotten. Gajeel looked past the plumette and out the kitchen window, the sky was pitch black.

“I didn’t realize it was this late, I'll head out.” His gruff voice brought Calypso’s attention back to him.

“Huh?” She asked before whipping around and looking out the window. Pieces of plum-colored locks fell from her bun, framing her face as she turned back to face him. “Sorry about that, I rambled on for too long. I’ll probably have to cook for the others, do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Depends on what you’re cooking,” Gajeel said as he got up from the table, Calypso followed suit and walked behind him towards the front door. Opal was resting in Astria’s arms as the three of them chatted in the living room.

“Hey Gajeel!” Astria called out with a wave.

“Thanks for holding down the fort, Gajeel.” Natsu offered a small grin, as he turned to Calypso. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Noodles and chicken thighs.” Calypso offered a shrug in response.

“I’ll see you four at the guild.” He turned to Calypso and gave he a gentle pat on the head. “See you later brat.” Gajeel headed out the door as Calypso’s face turned bright red.

“Wait, so you aren’t staying?” The plumette looked offended for a swift second, before her composure regained.

“Nah, I forgot I was going to train tonight since the weathers gonna be alright, since it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.” Gajeel grinned before slipping out the door and past Natsu. “Did you two have a date? Are we interrupting?” Astria pouted momentarily, before the mocking tone dripped through her second question. “He likes herrr!” Happy’s snarky comment broke the short pause. “It was nothing like that!” Calypso paused before biting back at her friend, “Did you and Natsu go on a date?” This caused the light blue haired dragon slayer to blush just as heavily as Calypso was. Astria waved her hands in the air as a way to dismiss Calypso’s question. “Hey! We were training!” The pink haired dragon slayer crossed his arms over his chest before huffing. “Aye Sir! We were training really hard Calypso!” Happy shouted along. “No yelling in the house! Indoor voices!” Opal folded her arms, before snuggling against Astria’s leg. “Lucy stopped us from training anymore for the night.” “I see, did you guys do that much damage?” “No... Not really...” Astria mumbled, patting Opal on the head softly. Opal offered a small smile in return before simply nodded, “It was some hefty damage, but it was a remote forest.” “Yeah, that sounds like you two. Dinner will be ready in half an hour, go wash up, you all smell disgusting.” Calypso offered a small grin, suppressing the disappointment that she wouldn’t have her company tonight.

◊◊◊◊

The guild hall was filled with noise, booze and the heavenly scent of food – even at 8 in the morning. Astria, and Calypso sat at a table closer to the bar, all still with sleep in their eyes.

“Do you think I can grab a drink with breakfast?” Calypso asked her teammate.

“Calypso Lunar. No!” Astria scolded the oldest member as Gray and Loke took up seats at their table.

“May still hasn’t come back and I’m worried. I need something to take the edge off. What about a splash of something in my coffee? That should be fine right?”

“Okay Cana.” Gray teased the plumette, causing Astria to choke on her water.

“Hey man, leave my Caly alone.” Loke said as he threw his arm around her shoulder. “Both her and Cana are hot and have huge boobs, if they wanna drink this early in the morning we shouldn’t stop them. Why you ask? Because us hot blooded men benefit from it in the long run. Especially since they both tend to strip when they drink a lot.”

“If you’re so worried about May, why don’t you just go look for her?” Gray asked the two mages. The two women in question just shared a look and nodded once before turning back to him.

“She’s seemed stressed since she’s come back from her mission. We want to give her some breathing room and not harass her about it. She’ll tell us when she’s ready too” Astria sighed before turning away from the guys and letting her eyes wonder around the guild hall.

“That makes sense at least. How long has she been gone?” The slight worry in the ice mages voice caught Calypso and Loke’s attention. Both had a devious smile cross their lips and a dark look tinted their features.

“Awwww is ice boy worried about my May?”

“I think he is Caly. He’s worried about a hot young woman who’s kicked his ass time and time again. What’s the score now Gray? 132 to 0?” Loke added on, poking fun at his tsundere of a friend. Gray scoffed at the two before leaning back and crossing his arms. Before he could give his own witty remark back, the guild hall doors opened. A cross-breeze of wind carried the familiar scent to the Dragon Slayer’s nose.

“Hey Caly, May’s back.” Astria pointed out as she kept her eyes on their short blonde friend. Caly’s head whipped around and saw her make her way over to them. “She looks unharmed which is good.”

“Her stomach just rumbled; I'll flag Mira down.” Calypso added as she waved over to the white-haired barmaid.

“Hey guys, what can I get you?” Mira asked in her usual joy-filled tone.

“Two breakfast specials, a thing of smoked salmon, and three extra strong coffees. Can you put something in one of them for me?” Calypso ordered easily, with her being the oldest of the three she always took care of the others.

“Of course! I’ll be back with the drinks soon.” She walked back to her spot behind the bar as May finally arrived at the table.

“Hey...” The blonde spoke softly before taking the empty seat next to Calypso and across from Opal. Before the other two could speak, May pulled out two flyers from her pocket and showed them to her teammates. “The two of you should join the Miss Fairy Tail pageant. You guys have a better chance of taking home the gold if there's more than one of youse.”

“Jason’s a judge so I’m guaranteed top three.” Calypso said as she looked over the paper she snatched from May.

“Didn’t he judge last year too, and Mira still won?” Gray snipped to get back at her from earlier. Loke and Calypso stared daggers at the ice mage.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s ugly and unlovable, while you’re sexy and powerful. Which to be fair, is the best combo in a woman.” Loke complimented Calypso as her face continued to darken.

“I’ll skin you both alive if either of you continue to speak.”

“And on that note, I’ll be leaving.” Loke took his leave from the table, leaving Calypso’s death glare to Gray.

“All I have to do is whistle, and I can have a pack of wolves maul you to death.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know. You need a new threat Calypso; you’ve used that one too many times already.” As Gray spoke, Mira silently placed the drinks on the table for the three women and scurried away. She valued her life too much to get between the bickering mages.

“Probably as much as you take your clothes off.” Astria added as she shoved the ice mage away from her in a playful manner.

“As the leader of Team Lune, I need you all to behave while we’re at the guild.” Opal said sarcastically. “Yes, I’m so sorry, oh great master Opal.” May said as the three mages bowed to the light pink feline.

“What the actual fuck is your team?” Gray asked with scrunched eyebrows. In a split second, May was behind Gray as her palms were placed on both of his ears, applying a light pressure as she looked to her friends. “Speak like that again and I’ll blow you up so badly they’ll be piecing you back together for weeks.” Gray hunched back a bit at her words, before sighing. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” he let out with a huff.

“And we’ll feed your body parts to my wolves.” Calypso added with a smug smile.

“Do you not feed them? Isn’t that animal cruelty?”

“I do feed them, they just like people meat. And they like it fresh too.”

“You need psychological help.”

“Everyone in this guild does.” Astria added to as she was looking over Mays shoulder at her pink haired best friend.

“Open your mouth again and see what happens ice stripper.” May threatened once more.

“I’ll be taking my leave now too.” Gray sighed as he pushed the chair back and left the table. Mira made her way back to the table with breakfast as May took Gray’s seat.

“Enjoy Ladies!” Mira called as she turned and headed back.

“So, to confirm – you two are joining the pageant and we’re going on this job.” May stated as she cut into her food.

“Job?” Calypso and Astria asked in unison.

“Oh yeah I forgot to explain that since ice box interrupted us. It’s a simple one for 100,000 jewels. We just need to capture a bandit, so it’ll take us what, an hour at most? Easy money.” May explained as Calypso downed her alcoholic coffee.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. When do we leave?”

“Give me two hours to drink a bit more and nap.” Calypso stated as she let out a yawn.

“You can nap on the train.” Opal spoke softly as she snacked on her salmon.

“This is why you’re in charge!” The three mages said in unison to the cat.

“Does it have to be a train though? Can’t we fly?” Astria asked with sadness in her voice.

“Opal can’t carry all three of us Ria.” May stated softly as she picked at her breakfast. The four sat in silence for a few seconds before Calypso spoke up.

“I’m gonna go threaten Gajeel. Do we think I can convince him to let me braid his hair?” Calypso asked as she stood up from the table.

“Maybe if you challenge him to something and use it as your prize.” Astria pitched to the plum haired mage.

“Say less.” Calypso sauntered over to where Cana, Gajeel and Juvia were seated and sat next to her best friend.

“So, uhhh. May I'm not going on a train so you’re on your own. I love you!” Astria said as she skipped out off with Opal following behind.

“Well then, I see how it is.” May spoke to no one before letting out a sigh. She silently continued to eat her meal before heading out on her now solo job. As she continued to pick at her food, she looked over to her friends – Caly was shoving a beer in Gajeel’s hand with a smile on her face. While Ria was happily sitting across from Natsu and Happy with Opal in her lap. The four of them were laughing happily as May sat by herself. They really would be okay without me, May thought to herself with another silent sigh.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fandom #fairy tail fanfiction #natsu dragneel #gajeel redfox #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #laxus dreyar #erza scarlet #Natsu x oc #Natsu x Reader #Gajeel x oc #Gajeel x reader #gray x reader #gray x oc

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wonderlandmind4 · 6 years ago

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Monster In Me (Loves the Monster in You)

A Bucky Barnes fic. (Can be read as a one shot; eventually a mini-series)

Summary: Mission: Undercover at a high-end Casino/Gentlemen’s club. Objective: Obtain Hydra intelligence via a USB drive. Except, Bucky becomes a little distracted.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language. Mild violence. Mentions of strippers and sex workers and what tends to happen in places like that. Eventual angst. *Takes place after CW and Black Panther. There’s no such thing as The Snap in this one.*

Words: 7.2k (Title from Little Mix, Monster In Me)

A/N: I’ve had this idea for months in my head and I finally sat down in wrote it. This will probably be a mini-series, at least three parts for sure. (pic not mine)

One Year and A Half Ago:

“This is the fanciest strip joint I’ve ever been in,” Bucky murmurs, expertly sliding past a group of half-naked, who he assumes to be, dancers. They’re wearing the shortest skirts he’s ever seen and little heart shaped glittering- pasties- is what Wanda called them at the compound.

He’d be more nervous of people recognizing him if it weren’t for the facial disguising veil Agent Hill gave him and the others. She also gave him a realistic but fake flesh colored hand that Tony had made. It was a hassle to get it on and adjust properly; lube had to unfortunately be involved.

“You often visit strip clubs, Barnes?” Natasha’s teasing voice crackles through the comm in his ear. “It’s a Gentlemen’s Casino, by the way.”

“Just a classy way of saying strip club,” Clint inputs.

Bucky rolls his eyes, spotting Clint across the room on the second level of the club. He’s sitting with his profile angled toward the open floor plan of the room. The wide, expansion of the room, with marbled pillars and floors, and red drapes lining the walls. There are mini stages set up here and there, some with dance poles and others without. The main stage is to the right of the room, with two bars on opposite sides. There are separate hallways leading to the private paid rooms in the back. On the second level and also the opposite side of the joint is the casino portion, with the wide lobby between the main rooms. The main casino room holds several smaller performing stages as well, and its own bar on a smaller scale.

“We did sneak into a burlesque show when we were seventeen” Steve supplies unhelpfully.

A tiny one-syllable chuckle escape Bucky’s lips as he runs his right hand through his slicked back hair. He oddly remembers that. He almost remembers Steve’s poor, sick mother nearly tugging their ears off after she found out. Bucky carefully and nonchalantly scans the room as he makes his way to the bar.

“You’d be surprised how many joints I’ve been in as the Winter Soldier,” He mutters, eyes locking on a man dress in a white suit.

“Some of the sleazier Hydra agents liked to do business in them,” Natasha confirms. “Speaking of, I got eyes on our first target. Heading your way Barton.”

“Copy that,” He answers lowly.

Bucky finally makes it to the bar, keeping the man in white in his peripheral. He orders whiskey on ice when the bartender asks, making a show to slide a crisp Benjamin across the countertop. His tactic works quickly, as a woman with platform heels and a glittering body suit slides in next to him.

“Who ya’ buying for, honey?” She questions with a flirty drop to her voice.

Glancing at her, Bucky pretends he’s interested, sliding his fresh drink over to her. He turns on his charm the best he can, flashing her a crooked smile. He turns his torso to face her, leaning his right elbow on the counter.

“You, sweetheart,” He responds lowly. “Enjoy,” Then he turns to face the bartender again.

She gives him a strange look for the briefest moment, accepting the drink. “That’s it?”

Bucky glances at her, then over her shoulder as the man in white turns. Not the target he thought it was. He turns his attention back to the woman.

“Enjoy,” He tells her. “Plus, I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t mind a few more free drinks either.”

The girl beams brightly at him before waving her girlfriend over. They thank him as he leaves, heading towards the opposite bar to get a better view of the entrance. He orders another drink from the new bartender, his eyes lazily scanning the room.

He doesn’t spot the man he’s looking for, but he does see one of the waitresses huff in anger as she walks away from a table of older men. The waitresses are dress a differently, short sequins shorts with thigh high stockings and garter belts, those same platform feels and a lacy red and black corsets.

She makes her way to the bar, dropping her tray down a little harder than necessary, giving the order to the second bartender. She quickly glances at Bucky, then flashes a fake smile on her face, pushing stray hairs from her eyes.

“Sorry about that, have you been served, sweetie?” She says in a silky tone.

Bucky makes to answer, when another table rudely snaps their fingers for her attention. While she’s distracted, he turns to the bartender handing him his drink.

“Are there rules against buying drinks for the waitresses?” He inquires, forming a bit of a plan in his head.

“No, but you aren’t allowed to touch them or book them for the private rooms,” The man answers sternly.

“Got it. Could you make whatever drink she likes, please?”

“Coming up.”

Once the candy red drink is made and the waitress comes back with a new order, he slides the glass over to her. She eyes him suspiciously, with good reason Bucky thinks, then looks at the bartender. The man nods in approval and for her own safety that Bucky didn’t spike her drink. She smiles in gratitude, taking a long sip as if it’s nothing but water.

Bucky starts up casually chit-chat with her every time she comes back to the bar for new orders. He turns up his charm, flirts and buys her another drink when she finishes the first one. All the while the comms are quiet as the team and himself scan the Casino. Nothing so far, which is normal considering the night is still young, but the switch of important Hydra database files and their new plan for weapons is still high risk.

The plan is for Barton and Bucky to track the two Hydra agents to gather intel of which man has the USB they’re suppose to obtain. Bucky is meant to track the second agent, a higher risk level, to one of the card tables. If the man has the drive, he’s to signal Natasha, who will then cut the power for no more than two minutes. That’s his window to obtain the drive, should the agent have it. Easy. Two minutes is plenty of time.

Something is shining from the second level, catching Bucky’s attention; Barton. He gives a small signal for Bucky to keep his eyes on the main entrance. However, a group of people just stood up and he has to get around them. He leaves the bar, circling around the large group to head to the entrance.

Bucky halts in his tracks, distracted as a new couple walks through the doors. It’s not the sight of the Hydra target waltzing in like he owns the goddamn place, no. It’s his escort that stuns Bucky into momentarily forgetting what his mission is.

The woman is absolutely beautiful, gorgeous. She holds herself high in confidence wearing a long, satin black evening dress. The neckline plunging down her chest, just below her breasts, a good amount of cleavage showing. There’s a thigh high split in the dress exposing her lean right leg, showing off sleek, expensive looking heels. Bucky swallows the hard lump in his throat. He’s never been so distracted by a woman before.

Her outfit leaves very little to the imagination, and although she’s wearing more clothes than some of the dancers, he thinks she’s the most stunning and sexiest woman in the room. Her hair is pull to the side over her right shoulder, the dangling opal earrings gleaming colorfully against the lights in the room. Her delicate fingers are wrapped around a stylish black clutch with a golden sleek logo on the front. Her nails are perfectly manicured, muted against the large sapphire ring on her left middle finger. Everything about this woman drips money, especially since her right hand is on the elbow of their target.

Her makeup looks neutral, her natural beauty and cheekbones doing wonders for her. Her lips are painted a bright red, perfectly applied as if she were born with that lip color. Bucky can’t tell the color of her eyes, standing too far away, but they do scan the crowd of people lazily. And with a sudden spark of realization, Bucky thinks she looks bored.

Maybe she’s escorted the Hydra agent to these functions before as he does business deals and trades. Maybe she’s left alone at the bars or tables as the target ruthlessly kills people behind her back. Maybe he leaves her to fend for herself as he disgustingly goes off to cheat on her. Maybe Bucky can catch her alone and fish for some information. Maybe they’re both walking his way and he has yet to move.

Goddamnit, get it together. He mentally scolds himself.

Bucky casually turns, quickly spotting the waitress from earlier at the bar. He’s already buttered her up and charmed the impressive heels off her. Maybe he can grab information out of her too, as if he were a curious newcomer to the place. He slides up next to her just after she finished handing drinks to another table.

“Time for another drink, darling?” Bucky inquires lightly.

She spins around, tucking the black tray under her toned arm. “I’ll never say no if you’re paying,” She winks.

Bucky chuckles naturally, following her as she heads back towards the bar. He scans the room again, watching as the Hydra target ushers his date to the more private area of the joint. The room is still open, giving a good view of the Casino table. The man sits first, not even offering to pull his date’s chair out for her, the clear gentleman his is. Bucky catches the slightest flare of the woman’s nostrils, pegging it as annoyance, before her expression changes into a smile. Interesting.

“Ahh, I see,” The waitress in front of him catches his attention. “Just like everyone else.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky questions with genuine confusion.

“Every man, no matter who they are, always seem to love the date of that man there.”

“He comes often then?”

The waitress snorts as the bartender hands her a glass. Apparently, she ordered while Bucky was distracted. He pulls out another hundred, informing the bartender to keep a tab open for the waitress. She winks at him, jerking her head to the side. He follows her to the corner, the less busy side of the bar.

“Every Saturday,” She supplies. “Has a new girl on his arm almost every time.”

“Gold diggers?” Bucky internally winces at the term.

“Sometimes. Sometimes high-end escorts. Other times it’s models. I suspect he pays them as his date for the night, even if it’s not their profession.”

“What about his current date then?”

“She’s beautiful, that one,” The waitress sighs dreamily.

Bucky quirks a curious eyebrow.

“What? I pay both fields, ya know, handsome,” She smirks. “Do you see that dress on her? Anyway, she’s been his date for the past two months, strangely enough. Maybe because she ignores the fact that he fucks regularly in the backrooms and she’s left to suck up all the free drinks and attention everyone else gives her.”

“Interesting,” Bucky states, bringing up his left arm to scratch twice at his ear. A signal.

“Listening. Checking them out now,” Natasha’s low whisper comes through the comm.

“I bet you are,” The waitress chuckles. “Listen, handsome, since you haven’t even asked my name yet, I can tell I’m not your choice of drink tonight. I appreciate the ones you bought me though, and the tab. So for that, I won’t rat ya out for wanting information.”

Bucky blinks. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugs. “Not many men who come through here are as nice as you. You haven’t groped me once, dropped a creepy line or spiked my drinks.”

“Does that happen often?” A wave of anger curls through his chest at the thought of it happening to all the women, and men working here.

She sighs in disappointment. “Unfortunately. But thank you. Enjoy your night.” She raises his drink in a cheers to him before turning. “Oh,” She spin back around. “He always leaves to go into that backroom around 11:30. She’ll be alone after that. Good luck.”

“Got it,” Natasha says. “Rogers, where are you stationed?”

“Second level, near Barton,” Steve answers.

Bucky ignores them briefly as he slowly exits the main floor and heads towards the opposite room. There’s an open seat at the private Casino table, the game of cards hasn’t begun yet. He quickly glances at the watch on his left wrist, noting he’s got a good hour before the target leaves the table. The usher by the rope of the room nods in greeting, easily allowing him access; given that the usher is another undercover SHIELD agent on this mission.

The open seat is adjacent to the target’s, which also gives him a great view of his date. Bucky sits, pulling out yet another two, one-hundred dollar bills from his wallet and handing it over to the dealer. Once he takes the chips given to him, Bucky nonchalantly glances around the table. They all seem like the usually, rich and classy poker type, until his eyes land on the woman’s.

His heart jumps a little when he realizes she’s staring back at him. She was beautiful from a distance, but up close she’s enthralling. Her eyes sparkle for a moment, the only expression given away before her pretty eyes move back to the man next to her. Bucky shifts in his seat.

He had to relearn how to play poker from Tony for this mission, and to his surprise and Tony’s dismay, he was good at it. Bucky is great at laying the game while simultaneously detailing everything about the Hydra man. He doesn’t recognize him, thankfully, meaning the disguising veil is working. Although the veil is doing it’s job it only changes his features slightly, and if the man looks at him for too long, he could recognize him. Bucky doesn’t though, so he must not have been present when Bucky was still under their control.

It’s probably why his heart rate remains normal, as long as he doesn’t look at the man’s date. She doesn’t seem to be too good at the game, other than keeping her face expressionless. She taps her nails against the edge of the table once in a while, random enough for no one else to pick up on. Bucky does. She’s informing the agent of something, and Bucky narrows his eyes slightly. Is she actually a Hydra agent herself? Or has he been keeping her around because she’s somehow helping him win the games? Is she counting cards?

“Target One didn’t have the drive,” Barton’s voice suddenly says in Bucky’s ear. “Up to you, Lefty.”

Internally rolling his eyes at Clint’s nickname, Bucky slowly shifts his right foot. He knows Natasha is close by, watching his every move, his foot was the first signal. His second is tilting his head to his left shoulder, pretending to crack his neck. He makes a show of releasing his cards to rub at the fake sore spot of his neck then dropping his hand to the table.

Two seconds later and the power cuts out. Bucky moves quietly, efficiently, all the skills of the Winter Soldier that were naturally mixed in with his sniper abilities come out. The joint is pitch black, save for the red glowing lights of the exit signs in the distance. With the serum in his veins though, he can see fairly well in the dark.

Only five seconds past before Bucky has the man in front of him. He doesn’t touch him, despite anger running through his veins and just wanting to take this Hydra goon out. Instead, hte man is distracted, already reaching in his pocket for a phone, wondering what’s going on. He goes to move into the backroom where the switch for the drive is supposed to take place.

However, Bucky expertly slips his right hand into the opposite pocket, coming out clean and unnoticed with the drive. Fucking idiot. Who just keeps an important USB drive loose in their pocket like that? Just as fast, Bucky slips the drive into his inner pocket of his own jacket, flipping over the table and back to his seat.

The power comes back on. Everyone winces at the abrupt lights, and the panic that was building slowly subsides. Thankfully, they picked a stormy night to do this mission, as the managers of the club reassure everyone that it was just a power surge. The Hydra man looks confused and angry.

“That was impressive, Barnes,” Nat says. He can hear her smirk.

Bucky glances around the room, pretending to ignore the agent.

“Great. Can we go home now? I think I pissed off a stripper,” Clint pipes in.

Bucky has to keep from laughing at Steve’s loud ground.

“Not yet, and you apologize to her,” Steve answers sternly. “There’s one more thing to obtain.”

The game in front of them has to start over, and when Bucky finally glances up, the man and the woman are gone. He tells the dealer to leave him out, getting his money back.

“Too much commotion for me, sorry man,” Is his explanation.

Once he’s out of the quiet room he speaks up. “Target probably headed to the backroom. Meet you in there, Romanoff.”

She doesn’t respond, so he assumes she’s already in said location. Once he enters the private room, slipping past the guards who are distracted by another patron, he looks around. Surprisingly, the private room isn’t all that private. It’s more of a VIP area, two poker tables set up and a roulette one as well. There’s a long skinny bar on the left wall, nothing but expensive and imported liquor lining the shelves.

Round tables are scattered about the floor plan, some small enough for three people, others with two chairs and one booth. There’s a stage up front set up with three dance poles spread out, one stripper already climbing the pole as she spins. It’s rather impressive, Bucky thinks as he finds a seat. He watches as the dancer hooks her left calf along the pole, her right leg hanging down in the air as she leans her torso upside down, all while spinning.

“Gemini Bridge,” A smooth accented voice says from behind Bucky. British, he thinks.

He turns to see the stunning woman from before; the Hydra agent’s date. His heart jumps again and he has to make the conscience effort not to let his eyes drop, considering her skin is dusted with a light coating of shimmer.

“Come again?” He inquires, bemused.

She nods her head towards the stage. “That move she’s doing. It’s called a Gemini Bridge, and that’s an Extended Butterfly into a Gemini Plank.”

Bucky glances over his shoulder to see the dancer perform a series of skilled moves. There are men up front tossing money all over the stage as she continues to spin. He turns himself around to face the woman head on.

“And you know this how? Did you use to work here?” He questions, hoping it didn’t sound as rude as he thought.

She smiles smoothly at him, resting her arms on the table as she leans forward. “I like to know the art of dancing.”

Her bright, captivating eyes slowly scan him up and down. The right side of her mouth ticks up higher in a smirk as she does. Bucky inhales slowly, his nose picking up on her expensive perfume; sweet but a hint of spice under it.

“Would you rather watch her as those gross men cat call her and join in, or would you rather try your luck at Roulette?” She asks, suddenly leaning back. She crosses her legs, and the slit of her dress falls down to expose more of her bare skin.

Bucky swallows. Damn. He briefly wonders if she knows what she’s doing to him. Probably, given the fact that the waitress told him this woman fends for herself once the Hydra prick is gone. Bucky stands, briefly looking down at her. Two can play this game. He’s gained his confidence back after his stay in Wakanda.

“Shall we then?” He offers his right hand to her, rising his eyebrows in a challenge. If he plays this right, he can pull information out of her.

She studies him for a moment before placing her hand in his. Immediately goosebumps travel up his arm, and Bucky has to grit his teeth from how soft and warm her skin is. He helps her stand, quickly dropping her hand as she leads the way back to the table. He may have gained his confidence back, but apparently, he lost some respect as his eyes drop to the sway of her hips briefly.

Don’t let her distract you. It’s probably a ruse.

Or not, since he hasn’t read her as wanting to help the Hydra man. She’s seemingly clueless to what that guy really is. Maybe she’s just along for the expensive ride filled with free drinks and pretty dresses. They sit at the table, their seats separated by any patron. Bucky starts, when he realizes it’s Natasha. Her disguise is good, but Bucky can spot that sly smirk on the spy a mile away.

“Evening,” She quips lightly, a fake southern drawl coming from her mouth. “Thanks for saving our game.”

“My pleasure,” Bucky responds, subtly stepping on her toe. Her smirk widens.

He can feel the gaze of the mysterious woman of the night on him. So, he glances behind Natasha, just in time to see the woman’s eyes slip away, her jaw clenching for a moment. Hmm, intriguing. Maybe she really is interested in Bucky, and thinks that Natasha was flirting with him.

The game begins, however Bucky isn’t paying too much attention, instead he’s too invested in the woman on the other side of team mate. Which makes him loose three times in a row because he forgets to move the damn chips. Natasha snorts so quietly, only he can pick it up.

“Maybe you should’ve stayed at your lonely table,” The beautiful woman teases. Her red lips spread into a pretty smile. She gathers the chips she won on the last spin.

Leaning against the back of his seat to see her better, Bucky says, “Maybe I just need a good luck charm.” He drops a wink for good measure. It earns him a bright smile as she slowly licks her bottom lip.

“We’ll just see about that, love.” She winks back.

“Keep it in your pants maybe,” Nat mumbles.

“Says the woman who invented flirting for intel,” He breathes almost inaudibly.

Her hand drops under the table to pinch his thigh. Bucky schools his frown, subtly smacking her hand away. The next round starts again, this time Bucky moves his chips to where the woman’s are. He catches her eye and she just shakes her head in mirth. He ends up splitting the winnings on that round with her.

“What did I tell ya, doll,” He teases lightly, making sure to brush her fingers as they take back their chips.

“Really should have just left you there,” She quips, her eyes scanning over him again.

He inhales slowly once more, ignoring Romanoff’s shaking shoulders.

The game continues for another twenty minutes, and in the end him, Nat and the woman win the most chips. The dealer announces a small break in case anyone wants to order drinks or watch the upcoming Burlesque show about to happen. Natasha takes that as her que to leave, and her que to sneak into the private room. She gives her signal by placing a flirty hand on his shoulders, trailing her fingers along his neck. He has to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling at the spy’s tactics.

He catches the woman’s eyes once Natasha leaves, and swears he sees them darken, the twitch in her jaw is back. Bucky takes that as an opening, sliding over to sit in the now empty chair, making sure his elbow knocks into hers.

“How about I get you a drink for our winnings? He flirts, spinning a chip on the table.

“Our winnings, is it?” She responds, before stealing the chip he’s spinning. “Looks like my winnings now, Casanova.” With that she winks once more, then rises from the chair in one fluid motion.

Bucky watches her go, wanting to follow her when the crackling in his ear abruptly brings him back to the mission at hand.

“I think she wants you, Casanova,” Clint’s voice is too gleeful over the comms.

“Fuck off,” Bucky murmurs as he leaves the table and heads back to the one he was at beforehand. It’s in clear view of the real private room. “She came with the target, been associated with him for two months.”

“She was checked out before this mission, she’s in the clear” Steve supplies, he also sounds like he was laughing. “Good to see you still have it in you, Buck.”

“Wants it in something,” Barton mutters.

“Gross,” Natasha whines.

“I’m going to break your bows, just you watch, dick,” Bucky threatens, feeling his cheeks darken.

Steve is just laughing, clearly out of range of anyone hearing him. “What’s your location, Nat?”

“In the room, in the vents, now hush.”

“This seat taken?” That accented voiced inquires from behind him.

Bucky tenses as her hand touches his right shoulder, dragging her fingers over his back to his left. He fights the shiver that shoots down his spine, but he can’t fight the intrigued stir coming to life in his trousers; again. Jesus, he doesn’t know how anyone could ignore this beautiful, alluring creature. Maybe she’s strong, independent, stubborn Hydra never liked those kind of traits for their leashed pets.

“By you, hopefully,” Bucky flirts again, dropping his voice an octave.

Work the charm, get her spilling secrets about the current Hydra agents. She sits gracefully, crossing her legs, the material of her dress slipping off further this time. He snaps his gaze away from her smooth skin.

“See you bought yourself a drink,” He acknowledges the martini glass in her hand. Gin martini with two olives.

“With my winnings,” She informs him, dropping the chips she hadn’t cashed in yet on the table.

Suddenly the lights dim and the spotlight on the stage comes on. Bucky ignores it and the men cheering. As she takes a delicate sip from the glass, he slowly details her. She exudes sophistication, a sexy confidence about her, and he figures she has to be to have that Hydra prick keep her around for so long. She plays with the ring on her middle finger with her thumb, and her foot in the sleek open sided heel is bouncing to the music playing. There’s a jeweled, star brooch on the heel Bucky hadn’t noticed before, gleaming in the dim lights. Her pulse flutters calmly in her neck, matching her heartbeat Bucky can faintly hear.

Her perfume fills the air between them, and he swears it’s the scent of it that captivates him, rather than her alluring eyes. Rather than her pretty, mirthful smile, as if she knows she already has Bucky in her YSL clutch bag. His eyes linger on her lips as she licks away a drop of gin. Clearing his throat, Bucky decides it’s time for business.

“Where’s your husband?”

“Subtle, Buck,” Steve’s voice echoes in his ear. God, he wishes he could turn the comm off.

Her cool expression breaks long enough for Bucky to notice. She raises her eyebrow instead, but the look of disgust remains in his mind.

“If I had one, I’d know,” She replies smoothly, placing her drink down. She taps the ring. “Ring’s on the wrong finger, Casanova.”

“Can never be to careful,” He responds, feigning disinterest as he looks back to the stage. He hears her shift, pulling his gaze back. She’s leaning over the table, clearly working the deep neckline of her dress and showing off her cleavage.

“Why do you ask? Would you no longer be interested?”

“Married women aren’t my thing.”

“That’s not stopping anyone from cheating in here.”

Bucky meets her gaze straight on. “Good thing you aren’t then. Still not interested in a woman already taken by someone else.”

That was the wrong thing to say and Bucky knows it. He’s relying on it, for it breaks her collected attitude once again. Her eyes tighten just slightly as she picks up her drink, taking a short sip. When she places it down, she toys with the rim of the glass with her index finger.

“I’m not taken by anyone. I’m not someone’s property to own,” Her voice is sharp when she replies.

Got her. He holds back his triumphant smirk. He leans forward, matching her move. “Then why are you here with your date, besides helping him cheat at poker, that is?”

“I have expensive taste,” She answers coolly, dropping her tone and her eyes to his mouth.

Bucky wonders if he can get away unscathed playing this close to fire. He brings his right hand on the table, knuckles a centimeter away from hers. He can feel the heat emitting off her skin, despite the cool air in the Casino and lack of material of the dress. She shifts, the top of her foot brushing against his calf briefly.

“In that case, why aren’t you with him in that room? Surely there’s more expensive entertainment in there.”

Something changes in her eyes then, her foot pressing firmly to his leg. “I’m not allowed in. He conducts business in there.” She pauses and when her eyes darken just a little, Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. “I, conduct business out here.”

Goddamn, control yourself, Barnes. She’s just flirting. You need intel. Be smart.

He isn’t smart. “What kind of business?”

He meant to imply what kind of business the Hydra agent does behind that closed door. Clearly, it did not come out that way, and clearly, she’s going to give him an answer; to her own sort of business. Her fingers slowly slip down the rim of her glass to the thin stem, Bucky grinding his teeth because he should not have found that sexy.

She uncrosses her leg, breaking contact from his calf, only to slowly place her hand on his knee. Damn small tables and close proximity. Her perfectly painted red lips spread into a coy smile as she leans around the table, sliding her hand up his thigh.

“Are you sure you want to know, love?” She teases as she lifts herself from her seat. There’s only a three foot space between them.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind showing me, would you, doll?” His own voice sounds strained in his ears, fighting against the curl of arousal in the pit of his stomach, and between his legs. Mission, focus on the mission. Focus on the goddamn mis-

She hums as she moves closer, lifting her eyes briefly before capturing him once more. “There are half naked women on stage, and you’re curious about my business?”

“Only have eyes for you, the whole night,” And fuck, ain’t that the truth.

Her chuckle is low and sultry as her hand continues to travel up. Bucky licks his suddenly dry lips. He can’t inhale a clean breath of air to clear his head, all he smells is her. She’s ensnaring every one of his senses, and he briefly wonders why he was even allowed to join the Avengers since he’s failing miserably. He clenches his fits to keep his hands to himself.

“I could tell,” She tells him, her voice a near whisper now. “I could feel your eyes on me. Is that want you want, handsome? To own a pretty little doll like me? Show me the real entertainment?”

Mayday. Choose words wisely. With your big brain, Barnes!

“Ooooh, she’s a minx!” Comes a gleeful chuckle through is ear.

Bucky has never been so grateful to hear Barton’s voice before. It helps break the trance this woman is putting him in. He blinks, his thoughts becoming clearer, the clouds fading away.

“No.” Bucky answers firmly.

Her hand slides extremely close to his groin before she takes her touch away. Bucky is only spared a second of relief, then she full on straddles him, slowly lifting her left leg over his lap. Her hands slide up his sides, under his jacket, trailing fire with her touch as she moves her hands over his chest stopping at his shoulders.

“No?” She tilts her head, a real glint of curiosity shinning through her pretty eyes. She drops her right hand to his left, taking hold of his wrist to place his hand on her bare thigh. Then she releases him, only to snake her fingers through his slicked back hair.

“No.” Bucky states again, his fingers twitching against her leg. Thank god he’s wearing a fake gloved hand.

Her fingers are lightly stroking the back of his scalp and it feels utterly amazing. However, he has his focus back as he stares unyielding into her eyes. She looks a little confused, as if she’s wondering why he hasn’t touched her inappropriately yet, despite her literally on his lap. He figures it’s something she’s used too, and he will not sink to the level of those disgusting men, Hydra or not.

“What do you want, handsome?” She breathes, her nose grazing his.

She smells of gin and cinnamon, the spice from that expensive perfume she’s wearing. She’s warm and soft as she presses her chest against his, feeling the friction of her bare leg against his pants. He mentally begs her not to shift her hips up, otherwise embarrassing things might happen. He is on a mission.

Finally, Bucky indulges himself just a little, lifting his hands to find both of hers. He wraps his fingers around her wrists, bring them both to his shoulders again. When flashes her a small but genuine smile, ignoring how hard his heart is fluttering in his chest.

“Just your name, sweetheart.”

Her eyebrows twitch down for a moment. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

He knew it wasn’t an answer she had ever gotten before, and he hears her heart rate speeding up when she realizes he’s telling the truth.

“I’m not like your escort,” He continues lowly, wishing he could have met her anywhere else at any other time. But he wouldn’t have, and he’s never going to see her again after the mission is completed

“No,” She agrees, dipping her head down. There’s only two inches between them now. “You’re not like most men, are you.” Briefly, she breaks their eye contact to glance at the private room. When she looks back, her eyes have darkened with what Bucky thinks is anger. “He’s an evil man.”

Bucky opens his mouth to inquire more, to gather more information, when her next words stop him.

“But you aren’t,” She murmurs, her eyes half lidded now.

Her words clear his head faster than Barton’s did, because this beautiful angel on his lap has no idea just who he is. Who he was. That he was part of those evil men; that he was an evil man, despite everyone else telling him otherwise.

He wants to tell her she’s wrong. She doesn’t know, not even his name, not even his real face. The veil makes changes minuscule if programmed, but she hasn’t recognized him for who he is. He wants to gently lift her off, places her back in the chair and leave without a word, with an explanation. Maybe the best he can do is take those men down and save her from any sort of Hydra clutches.

He’s about to do so, when she moves her hands up, brushing her thumbs along the scruff of his jaw. He swallows thickly again, just giving in, to give himself a selfish little moment and feel her skin warm against his one last time. He lifts his right hand, fingers grazing along her cheekbone as he pushes her hair back behind her ear. He hadn’t noticed before, since her hair blocked it from sight, but there’s a little tattoo there. A half crescent moon and a little star.

“What do you want?” Bucky can’t help but ask her the same question.

She has the tiniest quirk to her lips as her eye flutter for a moment before Bucky breaks his touch. She stares down at him intently, the tension that had been growing them since the Roulette table thickens. She doesn’t answer him, just tilts her head down.

Their noses touch brush against each others, her soft fingers now resting against the pulse in his neck. Her eyes fall shut, and Bucky finally gives in, allowing his own to close as well. He barely feels the feather-light graze of her upper lip on his, the ghosting touch of what could have been, before a loud bang interrupts them.

It came from the private room and Bucky springs into action. He quickly and carefully stands, minding the woman he still doesn’t know the name of, and steadies her. She’d moved quicker than he did though, and she drops her arms as if she was in a fighting stance. Clearly, she had to learn some self defense moves if she’s been in certain types of situations before.

“Run to the nearest exit and if you hear gun shots, take cover under the closest thing,” Bucky instructs her hurriedly, hands on her shoulders.

He spares one last lingering look at the alluring woman, before he lets her go, sprinting towards the room. Pulling out his concealed gun from the back of his waistband, Bucky kicks open the door, firing at the two Hydra agent he sees. They’re gaining on Natasha as she takes out both targets, performing her signature thighs of death move, as she knocks out the other.

Bucky lands two non-lethal shots to their shoulders and thighs, taking them down. Natasha brings the Hydra agent in the white suit down to the floor, before she straightens up, and fixes her askew dress. She smiles at him, holding up two phones.

“Got more intel,” She states, casually stepping over the unconscious men.

“And you didn’t invite me to join the fun?” Bucky pouts in jest.

“Sounded like you were having your own fun, Barnes,” She quips, as she pulls out zip ties from her own purse she dropped on the table.

“I wish,” He mutters bitterly. “Rendezvous at the van in five?”

“Did I miss all the fun again? You gotta stop taking them out so quickly Nat, this is getting boring,” Clint whines through the comms. “Barnes was the only form of entertainment.”

Bucky tries not to blush, forgetting that they all heard every single word said.

“It’s not my fault they make things so easy,” Natasha replies.

“Plus, Bucky’s fun ended once the commotion started,” Steve pipes in unhelpfully.

“Let’s just get to the car, please,” Bucky snaps a little.

He ends up exiting the chaos of the joint with laughter in his ears.

Before they reach the van with Maria Hill waiting for them in the driver’s seat, they’re stopped by police. Steve gives them the small bit of information he can, to at least make sure no one else was hurt. Clint is twirling an arrow between his fingers, smirking over at Bucky every other seconds. It’s annoying and he wants to-

“Hurry up, slow pokes, the jet is waiting!” Agent Hill shouts at them.

They jog to the van, Bucky gladly removing the thin facial veil and fake flesh colored hand. Once they reach the location of the Quinn jet, they pile out of the small van. Bucky has a bottle of water in his hand, thankful for the cold liquid for several reasons. He feels as if his skin still tingles from her touch.

“You got the USB, right?” Natasha inquires as they walk the short distance to the jet. “Didn’t fall out with you barging in like a moose?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the simile. “Yes, Romanoff, I got the-“ He pats his jackets, however, the little hard object that was in his pocket is in longer there. “Uh-“

“I swear to god, Barnes. Did you drop it?”

“Give me a minute,” He glares at her. He flicks what’s left of his water at her as the ramp of the jet opens, stepping onto it once it hits the ground. “I’ll check when we’re…”

He trails off, his mouth hanging open as he steps into the jet. There’s a silent pause for several long moments, before Clint’s loud cackles break it. He hears Steve’s surprised gasp followed by incredulous laughter.

Sitting in one of the chairs of the cockpit, swiveled around to face the opening, is none other than the woman Bucky had been flirting with. The same woman with stunning, alluring looks and the bright red lipstick, and those stupid expensive heels with that sexy black dress and her exposed leg. The same woman who boldly straddled his lap, who almost kissed him, who is currently holding the USB drive between her delicate fingers, with a smug smile on her lips.

“Did you lose something, Sergeant Barnes?” She asks innocently, tilting her head the way she did in the Casino. Her British accent is gone, replaced by her real voice.

Bucky is speechless. “What the fuck?”

Except for that.

“You should really be more careful who you decide to flirt with, Casanova,” She winks playfully at him.

Natasha makes her way to the woman sitting in the chair, a proud expression on her face as she squeezes the woman’s shoulder.

“Boys, this is Agent Y/L/N, or Agent Eleven,” The red headed traitor states with pride shinning in her eyes. “Or, as I like to call her, my protégé. She has officially passed her final test.”

“What the fuck?” Bucky blurts out again.

“We were in need of a new member whose face and name wasn’t recognizable yet,” Hill explains, moving pass them to take the other pilot seat. “She’s been undercover for two months on this mission. Fury recruited her due to her impressive espionage skills and field work. She’s a level six, just like Agent Romanoff.”

“What the fuck.”

“I think we’ve already established that the fuck you are asking about, Sergeant Barnes, has been explained,” The agent teases. She rises from the seat, moving like she did inside the casino. “Y/N or Agent Eleven will do.”

She hands Bucky the USB drive, which he fumbles with still from shock. Then Y/N lifts her hand, pressing the pads of her fingers under his chin to gently shut his open mouth. Her touch lingers for a moment.

“Close your mouth, handsome. Don’t want to be catching bugs. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change out of this ridiculous dress. I’m keeping the shoes though.”

She saunters down the narrow hallway of the jet, before glancing back over her shoulder. Of course, Bucky’s gaze followed her of their own accord. He catches the mischievous gleam in her eye.

“Unless I need a good luck charm for that too.”

She laughs brightly at Bucky’s blank expression, and probably the blush in his cheeks. He watches her disappear behind the sliding door, the echoes of her laugh reverberating around his chest.

Fuck, Bucky thinks he’s already in love.

********************************************************

Part Two: Coming Soon

Tags: @kat-lives @justreadingfics @moonbeambucky @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin @thecreatiivecorner @keldachick @watchoutforfrostbite @stressedasalways @barnesb1tch @iheartsebastianstan @ruinerofcheese

(let me know if you want to be tagged)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu fanfiction #monster in me fic #mini series #my fic

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tehfabbooty · 6 years ago

Text

Cupid, Part Three

The next few days were uneventful for you, but in a zombie apocalypse, that was a good thing. For Daryl though, his situation was completely opposite.

The closer the fourteenth got, the stronger his desire for you became. It was very strange for his feelings for you to be so. . . so . . . electrifying. It was near impossible not to just kiss you right now, in front of everyone so that they knew you were his. What has gotten into him?

He watched as you helped Carol carry in boxes from a run a couple guys went on, watching as you bent down to pick up a box and walk inside. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning at the sight of your skin-tight-jeans-covered ass. They fit so perfectly on your body, it was almost like they were painted on.

A commotion at the gate suddenly caught both yours and Daryl's attention. Heads snapping in that direction saw a very strange scene. Rosita was trying to shove Eugene away while shrieking to Abraham to help her. Eugene was fighting against her hands, leaning in trying to . . . kiss her? Did he have a death wish?

"Hol' the fuckity fuck up!"bellowed the ginger as he came up behind Rosita. "Just what do you think you're doing? Leave her alone!"

"But I love her!"Eugene cried, launching himself at her again.

Rosita screeched and ducked from his embrace, Eugene accidentally running into Abraham's broad chest and earning a punch to the nose.

Eugene collapsed, unconscious.

"The fuck was that?"Abraham asked his girlfriend. "Why was he all lovin' up on you?"

The latina shrugged, fixing her hat. "I dunno. He just came on to me out of nowhere. He was fine while we were on watch, but as soon as we climbed down he suddenly tried to kiss me. Almost like he got bit by something." She cursed in Spanish.

Later that day, you were helping Carol fix lunch in her kitchen. Still convinced you and Daryl were meant to be, she decided to try to get you two together by Valentine's Day. And when Carol Peletier has her mind set on something, then it's going to happen.

Currently she was stirring the pot of noodles on the stove while checking the garlic bread in the oven. You were setting up the dinner table for two, assuming it was just you and Carol, but she glanced at you and said, "Three."

You blinked in confusion. "Three?"

"Daryl's joining us."

You tried so hard not to roll your eyes at her, and failed. "What are you up to, Carol?"you asked suspiciously.

She grinned maliciously. "Oh nothing. Just a friendly group lunch is all."

Uh huh. You weren't buying it. But you kept yourself busy, suddenly nervous now that you knew Daryl would be eating with you, even though you've eaten together thousands of times.

Once you were finished with the table, you straightened up, ready to help Carol with the next thing when she said, "Why don't you go find some music to play? I keep the CDs in the attic."

Your eyes brightened. "Okay! Will do."

You dashed upstairs. Not even a few seconds later the doorbell rang, announcing Daryl's presence. Carol opened the door, grinning, and let him in.

He took a deep breath, smelling the sweet aroma of spaghetti wafting through. Also another kind of smell. Sweet, minty. You. He almost choked on air when he realized he could smell you and the fact he KNEW that minty smell was you.

Coughing to cover up his shock, he pulled a bottle of wine out from his coat. "Brought ya this like ya asked. Knew it's your favorite,"he told Carol.

She smirked. It actually wasn't. It was yours, she just pretended it was hers too.

"Thank you, Pookie. Just set it in there for now." She smiled warmly at him, who nodded.

As soon as he walked in, though, he noticed something was off. There were three plates set out instead of the two he was expecting. Did Carol have someone else coming over? Who -

His eyes widened. Of fucking course she would. God dammit.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusted himself as Carol came in to finish up dinner. He casually leaned against the wall next to the stove, eyeing her. She was up to something.

"Got something to say, pookie?"she asked with a grin.

"Who else did you invite?"he asked, though he knew already.

Before she could answer, Y/N came bouncing down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Hey, I didn't know you listened to - Oh, hi, Daryl." You stopped right at the door as soon as you caught sight of the sexy redneck. Shit.

"What'd you find, dear?"Carol asked, smiling.

As Y/N listed off the CDs, Daryl zoned out. He couldn't help but notice your hair was down, which was rare. You were wearing a pink off-the-shoulders sweater and the blue jeans he seen you in earlier, plus cute cowgirl boots. You also wore that opal necklace, he noticed as his heart thumped in his chest.

"... And a Shinedown album. You're a Shinedown fan?"you questioned.

"Nah, just found it and figured you would like it and completely forgot to give it to you. Oops." She laughed.

You laughed too, and you almost swore you heard Daryl moan under his breath, but that could've been anything.

Carol turned back to the stove, stirring it a little bit before announcing it was done. You were about grab your plate to get your helping of the pasta when Daryl grabbed it first.

"Let me,"he said in his husky voice. He reached over and dumped a pile of noodles onto your plate. "That good?"he asked, turning to you.

You almost didn't hear him, too preoccupied with his attire. Clean black pants, black shirt (with sleeves!) And his hair was brushed.

You blinked and then realized what he said before answering with, "A little more please." He dumped some more before pouring some sauce in over the noodles, handing the plate to you.

"Garlic bread done yet?"Daryl asked.

"Few more minutes. Patience, Pookie,"Carol replied, making you giggle to yourself.

Daryl grumbled, but set his own plate up before sitting down across from you.

Once the bread was done, Carol placed them on a separate plate and put it in the center of the table. "Y/N, would you care for wine? Daryl brought it,"Carol said.

Your eyes landed on the familiar bottle before your face lit up, recognizing it immediately.

"Oh my God. Yes! That's my favorite!"you squealed.

Daryl smiled to himself and felt his face heat up a little. Carol is one hell of a wing woman.

After dinner, Carol took care of the dishes, refusing your offer to help and ushered you and Daryl into the living room. The tension in the air thickened, but in a good way.

Your eyes met his blue ones, and you felt your cheeks redden and your stomach doing flips. Why were you so nervous all of a sudden?

His eyes dropped to your lips and darted back to your eyes, contemplating. He wanted to just grab you and take you right there. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how long he's loved you. The wine was definitely a big help with his confidence as he opened his mouth to speak.

Suddenly music started playing on the radio by the couch. Carol winked at you two and said, "If this doesn't make you two bang finally, I don't know what will." She grinned. "Try not to stain anything." She cackled all the way upstairs, leaving your jaw on the floor with a blush on both of your faces.

"Christ. I thought Carol was a Christian, but she sure is acting like - " you started to say but were cut off when a pair of lips attacked your own.

Strong hands captured your face, and soon you were pushed into the wall, pinned by his massive body. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, fighting yours for dominance and finally winning as he took it for a wild ride.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair as you pulled him closer, your heartbeat going a million miles an hour. The sweater you were wearing suddenly felt very hot and uncomfortable on your skin.

You moaned a little as his fingers stroke your face, which made his cock twitch. He loved your moan already. But he made sure to take his time with you so you would know this is real and not just a one time thing.

His hands started traveling down your neck to your sweater. He pulled on the end of it, so you lifted your arms up to help him lift it off of you. Seeing you with no bra underneath made him growl loudly, then suddenly attach his mouth to your left nipple.

You leaned your head back against the wall and moaned his name, causing goosebumps to rise on Daryl's arms and legs. But he didn't stop. He swirled his tongue around your nip, bit it a few times brfore moving to the other one. When he finished, he started leaving love bites up and down your chest until he reached your neck, which he attacked viciously with his lips and tongue.

"Daryl!"you cried out in ecstasy. God it felt amazing already.

He smirked against your skin and leaned back, taking in your flushed face and hazy eyes. "What you wan', Y/N?"he purred, tugging on the belt loops of your jeans.

"You, please,"you begged, already fallen apart for him.

You didn't have to ask twice. Before you knew it, you were naked, your underwear long gone. He lifted you up by your legs, pinning you to the wall again. He was now eye level with your pussy, which was dripping with anticipation.

"Daryl,"you whined. "I just want -"

You were cut off again when his tongue touched your folds. You groaned as he fucked you senseless with his tongue, lapping it over and over your sensitive clit and wiggling it around inside you.

"Daryl, I'm gonna -" Boom. There it is. You felt the most amazing and electrifying orgasm you had ever felt your entire life. You closed your eyes and whimpered, loving the feeling. You felt his scruff rub across your mound as he lapped up your juices and pulled himself out.

"Holy shit, Y/N,"he panted. "Such a dirty girl."

You blushed furiously. "Okay, now fuck me you asshole!"you croaked.

He dropped you to your feet before pulling off his shirt and pants, then yanking down his boxers. Your mouth opened in surprise at his size. He was the biggest you had ever seen. Holy shit.

"See somethin' ya like, darlin'?"he growled at you, and before you could answer, he yanked you into his arms as he settled you on the floor. He hovered over you, admiring your physique and beauty for a minute before lining himself up at your entrance.

You panted. "Go, I'm ready."

He smirked, then pushed himself inside.

You moaned. He wasn't even halfway in before he stopped to stretch you out.

"So fucking tight. So perfect for me,"he groaned.

He pushed himself some more until he could go no further, letting you adjust. After a minute, you nodded and he set his pace.

Your arms wound themselves around his chest so your fingernails could dig into his back as you jolted your hips up to match his rhythm. When it felt like you were at a good pace, you dropped your head, closing your eyes in pure bliss.

You have never felt such fiery, pleasurable and exciting sex like this. It was like you two were made for each other. He seemed to agree as sweat poured down his face, but he refused to let up.

He grunted as your hands weaved into his hair to massage his scalp tenderly. He closed his eyes for a second to enjoy your head massage, then opened them to glare down at you.

"Whose girl are ya?"he barked, blue eyes staring into your soul.

"Yours!"you cried.

"Damn straight. You're all mine." He huffed as he quickened his pace before burying his face in your neck.

"Oh god, Daryl!"you groaned.

"Cum for me, babygirl,"he rasped.

Somehow this one was even better than that last orgasm. Stars were shooting out in front of your eyes as you felt your high. You whimpered.

He didn't slow down though. No, it was his turn. He started fucking you harder and faster, earning moans and pants from you. Your eyes rolled in your head as he pushed himself to the limit. When he felt close, he lowered his head to capture your lips in another hypnotizing kiss, fighting with your tongue again.

Suddenly he felt himself shooting his rope inside you, and he dropped over you, careful not to crush you under his body weight.

After a few minutes he rolled off, both of you breathing hard. When you finally caught your breath, you leant up on your elbow to look at him, somehow more nervous now than before. What did this mean?

Before you could ask, he grabbed your jaw and pulled your lips down to his again, this time more gentle and slow. When he let go, he was smiling his sweet smile at you.

"What?"you asked shyly.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. "You're just so beautiful, Y/N. I can't take my eyes off ya."

You blushed and looked down, but he used his hand to raise your chin back up.

"I never have been able to, ya know. I've wanted ya since the farm."

Your eyes widened at his confession. "Really?"you asked, a grin stretching on your face.

He nodded. Then he batted his eyes and bit his lip. "Will you ... Be mine? My Valentine?"

You smiled so wide you couldn't bear it. You launched yourself at him and he caught you in his arms, snuggling you to his chest on the floor.

"Yes. Yes I will. But truth is you always had my heart." You smirked. "I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N." He bent down to kiss you again as a squeal interrupted you two.

"Sorry! Was just checking to see if it happened!"Carol laughed. "Lemme get you guys pillows and blankets. Finally! Praise the lord!" She walked away again cackling.

You rolled eyes, but smiled happily at Daryl. Your Daryl. Your Valentine.

Note: some reader characters I applied from myself, such as the Shinedown reference, my birthday, etc. Hope you enjoyed!

#jealous daryl #daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #obsessive daryl

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hamilton-one-shots · 6 years ago

Note

12! 12! 12! (lams pls)

(12.“You can’t die. Please don’t die.”)

This was the day. Alexander knew it was. The day was perfectly planned out and it was going to work out according to plan. That’s what he kept saying, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling endless waves of anxiety as he paced around his apartment.

“Deep breath, Alex. You’ve got this,” he told himself as he stood in front of the mirror. He splashed cold water on his face, then took a deep breath and began getting ready. Everything had to be perfect for John. He took a long hot shower, scrubbing every last bit of dirt and dead skin off of him, then got out and put on the turtle boxers that John got for him and his best jeans. After that, he brushed his teeth well and rinsed out his mouth before shaving, making sure every last stray hair was cut before cleaning the stubble off and putting on a plain white shirt and a parakeet green button up over it. It was his best color, in his opinion. After doing a few (hundred) runs over his mental checklist, he headed out to where they were supposed to meet in front of the local theater.

He finally got himself to calm down when he saw John. He smiled and watched him walk towards him. He looked as perfect as always, his own black button up shirt open and a band t-shirt underneath it. His hair was back in a flawless ponytail and he overall looked like a picture of perfection to Alexander. He’d imagined that moment and thought that he was going to feel at least 800 times as nervous as he had in the morning, but that wasn’t true. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Seeing John there, it only made him more sure of what he was doing.

He began walking towards him when things started changing. Time slowed down and certain noises became more prominent as they rang through his ears. Something wasn’t right. No, more than that. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He felt it in his gut. The sirens, the screeching, the screaming. It felt like he was moving in slow motion when he turned towards the source of the sound. A car, moving down the street and police cars chasing it. He looked back at John and saw him stopped, paralyzed in fear as the car came racing towards him. Alexander could only think one thing as he raced to save him. “You can’t die. Please don’t die.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it as time slowly ticked on.

He grabbed John’s arm and pulled him away just in time, him landing hard on the sidewalk and John landing on top of him. He didn’t care that his entire body ached. He cared that John was safe. He held him close. “Are you okay?..”

“I think so..” John nodded and got up, helping Alexander to his feet. A few people came over and asked John the same thing, but the pair assured them that he was okay and brushed themselves off before going inside and watching John’s favorite musical, Heathers. The production was great, though John had to admit that he still favored the original cast, and, afterwards, Alexander took them to the zoo, John’s favorite place.

John didn’t know why they were doing all of his favorite things, but he didn’t argue. After all, Alexander said all the time that his only goal was to make John happy and that was certainly going to happen if everything went right. The only thing that would make things better was if he didn’t have those stupid cramps. He had to be off of testosterone before his top surgery, but things weren’t quite as planned. His hormones were unbalanced, so Satan’s waterfall began to flow, but at least it was the last one for a while. And, besides, he didn’t mind it for Alexander, for what it would mean for their future.

Once they reached the aquarium, John’s favorite part of the zoo, Alexander stopped, holding his hands and smiling widely.

“Why did you stop?” John asked, though he was hardly complaining.

“I have something important to ask you.”

John squeezed his hands weakly. “That’s perfect because I have something important to tell you.”

Alexander smiled and cupped John’s cheek, then realized how sickly he looked. “Are you okay? You’re pale and sweaty.. And you’re ice cold.”

John realized it was a strange set of symptoms, but it had been his first time off of testosterone. He figured that had something to do with it. “That’s actually what I wanted to say. I-” He was cut off as he fell unconscious, collapsing backwards onto the ground.

Alexander gasped and kneeled down, checking for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. He began chest compressions and called for help, a few onlookers calling 911. After a few minutes, he checked his pulse again. Even weaker. He kept doing his chest compressions until the EMTs arrived and lifted John onto a stretcher, immediately noticing what Alexander hadn’t.

There was a shadow of blood beneath his body.

Alexander could’ve sworn he was going to be sick, but kept his focus on John, following the EMTs outside, though he was stopped at the ambulance. They let him know which hospital they were going to, but Alexander couldn’t go in the ambulance.

He jumped in his car and immediately drove to the hospital, arriving after the ambulance. He asked the nurse where John was and was allowed to see him, but only from outside of the room. Almost as soon as he got there, John was wheeled away and Alexander got the attention of a doctor. “Where are you taking him?”

“He needs an X-ray. I don’t know if you were aware, but he was shot somehow.”

“Sh.. Shot?.. But he was just fine a minute ago.. No pain, no anything..”

“I know this may be difficult to take in. I can’t understand what you must be going through, but its vital that you remain calm. Please have a seat in the waiting room. I’ll have a doctor who better understands the situation speak with you as soon as they can.”

Alexander nodded and silently left to the waiting room, having a seat. Shot?.. It almost seemed impossible. Except. Back with the car chase. There were sirens, screeching tires, screaming, and gunshots. John must’ve gotten hit. Tears streamed down Alexander’s face. No.. Not John. He tensed up as he felt a light hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you here for John Laurens?”

Alexander nodded and the doctor sat beside him. “I’m sorry.. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

“Yes.. This morning, a car chase passed us by. But I had no idea he was shot.. And neither did he.. Is he going to be okay?..”

The doctor hesitated for a second before responding. “We aren’t quite sure right now. That’s what the X-ray is for. We need to see if the bullet is in a dangerous place before removing it.”

“Dangerous place?..”

“Yes, like a blood vessel or an organ. But, I’m going to be honest with you. He lost a lot of blood. Even if the surgery is a perfect success, there is a chance that the brain or another organ has been damaged. We’ll need to monitor him.”

“I understand..”

A nurse stepped in. “Doctor? The results of the X-ray are in.”

They nodded and left.

Alexander was alone with his thoughts once more. He frowned and pulled out the box that had been weighing heavily in his jacket pocket, opening it and looking at the ring inside. A beautifully cut opal resting in a silver band. John would’ve loved it. And, now, Alexander wasn’t sure he’d ever get to see it.

No, he couldn’t think like that. John was strong. He had to survive this. He had to.

Another hour went by without word of John’s condition and, by then, Alexander was pacing across the almost empty waiting room. The same doctor came in and sat down with him.

“We were able to perform the surgery. The bullet was lodged in a pocket of fat that’s collecting on his sides. His long chest binder kept it in place and slowed the blood loss. His sudden collapse was caused by the fact that he lost blood slowly. It went unnoticed until he suddenly wasn’t able to function any more. He mistook the pain with menstrual cramps.”

“But that’s impossible. John can’t get periods right now.”

“I understand your confusion, but his hormones are quite unbalanced. A sudden burst of testosterone caused him to have a cycle, despite the baby.”

Alexander’s eyes went wide. “The.. The baby?.. John’s pregnant?..”

She looked at him, shocked. “I’m so sorry. I was under the impression that you knew. I had a nurse sent off his clothing to get cleaned, though we had to cut the binder off, and he found this in his shirt pocket.” She reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Alexander.

His hands shook as he unfolded the paper and, right there, was an ultrasound image of a baby. Alexander smiled widely and hugged the doctor, tears running down his face. After a second, he pulled away. “The baby’s okay?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry. The baby’s only going to be as okay as John and, right now, we’re unable to give any solid information. You can go see him, but he’s still unconscious.”

Alexander nodded and followed the doctor up to John’s room. At least he looked peaceful.

“We did an ultrasound after his operation. If he’s okay, then the baby will be fine. But only time will tell right now.”

“Thank you..” He sat beside John’s bed, the doctor giving them some privacy. He took John’s hand into his own, at least he wasn’t cold anymore, and raised it to his lips, tenderly pressing his knuckles to his lips until he was sure John still knew he loved him, conscious or not. A few doctors and nurses came in and out of the room in the next few hours, but they let Alexander stay right where he was at John’s side.

By nightfall, John was still out and things were starting to look bleek. The doctors did another ultrasound and let Alexander listen to the heartbeat. And he cried. How could he not? Their baby was fighting for life just as hard as John was before it was even born, only 16 weeks after conception. Still, as heartbreaking as that was, it was going to kill Alexander if he had to say goodbye to John already. He was only 24, a year younger than Alexander. Losing him would’ve torn out a large part of Alexander’s heart, easily.

Alexander stayed at John’s side even through the night, sleeping with his head resting on John’s chest. Things were looking bleak. If John’s heart wasn’t beating on it’s own by then, it wasn’t going to beat on its own at all. Alexander signed the consent forms, but wanted to be asleep when it all happened. The doctors came in and did their best to not wake up Alexander as they pulled the plugs. John Laurens was pronounced dead at 1:36 a.m.

A few minutes after they left, a shaky hand took Alexander’s and raised it to a pair of chapped, clammy lips, leaving a small kiss and whispering a joke.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #john laurens #lams

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peachhoneii · 7 years ago

Text

Upon discovering her mother was to marry her long time sweetheart, Opal exclaimed,

“Oh fuck me.”

A lot of other words can be said, kinder if not polite sentiments can be expressed, but Opal doesn’t want to be kind or polite. Her mother bristles ever so slightly in the chair but says nothing in reprimand...they’ve heard much worse from her.

“You’re going to marry him.”

It’s scathing and a little bit unfair, but to be fair to Opal, she thought it was a phase. A little old phase stemming from recent financial and business success, or the simple fact her ma had spent the better part of a century, exactly fifty years, living and raising children in his deteriorated cabin.

Opal tears into the sandwich. She should’ve known something was afoot when he returned for his long lost sled. She should’ve known something was going on when she suddenly appeared in Duckburg for no apparent reason, dressed in her old dancehall gown.

Goldie anticipates this and sets her hand on the table. Opal’s right eye twitches. It’s like she’s been thrust into the past, and she’s fifteen years old again. Fifteen with dirty feet, dirty hair, bruised knuckles because Sally Smith just had to make fun of her dirty feet and dirty hair. It isn’t her fault she lived miles away from the school house, and it isn’t her fault her fist slammed into Sally’s right eye before the girl could defend herself.

“Opal, your father and I -,”

“You mean Mr. McDuck and yourself.” A pickle bursts in her mouth, and she spits it out, she had asked specifically for no pickles.

It makes sense why her ma requested a public seating. A nice, quiet diner on Main Street, filled with happy people. She doesn’t want Opal to make a scene, and surely, Opal will not make a scene now. She picks the pickles out and continues to eat, forcing the sandwich down her throat.

Goldie chews on her french fries, “We’ll be at City Hall for seven.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see why. It isn’t that important.”

“Ten, Scrooge has a meeting for 7:30.”

“I have to work.”

“I’m sure he can make an arrangement. He owns Anatidae Insurance, and they’ll be able to survive without their receptionist.”

A proper dig. It wouldn’t be a conversation with ma if there wasn’t one. Opal doesn’t have the strength to glare as she sips her iced water, “I’m sure they can, but I highly doubt this is even in my best interests.”

“Oh?”

“I am not particularly fond of the groom.” Goldie rolls her eyes, and Opal groans, “You could have anyone else. It could be anyone else.”

Opal doesn’t get it. Opal doesn’t want to get it. And on some awkward, crippled medium she does get it. Her ma blinks at her, chuckles, and every hardened feature on her face softens. The Canadian frostbite simply melts off her body, and she’s a young woman again. Glittering Goldie lives, lives proudly and ravishingly.

Opal is both sickened and elated. She can’t tell which part is stronger.

“It’s him.” Goldie says softly (with iron - or is it gold?), “It’s always been him, and there’s going to be a marriage if you attend or not, although we would prefer if you did.”

“We.”

“Yes.” Her emerald irises glitter. She has waited fifty years to say this with certainty, and finally, she can. She doesn’t miss a beat, “Yes, we, my darling.”

The rest of their lunch is eaten with small talk. Opal mentions she isn’t a receptionist any longer and will be an insurance lady in the next week. Ava Muscovy retires at the end of the week. They’ll be a party for her, but recalling Ava’s sheepish grin, “Oh dearie, you don’t have to come,” makes a lot more sense than it did at the beginning of the week.

Goldie still has executive control of the Frostbite Hotel, and Sam is more than worthy, more than willing to take over as official manager. He’s a good man, she explains, and an even better accountant, “He’ll give those workers a swift kick in the ass to keep ‘em straight, and that’s how it’ll be.”

Lunch ends with a kiss on a cheek, and Goldie holds her cheek, “I do love you, Opal.”

“I love you too, Ma,” and this is true - despite her disappointment, this will forever be true.

Opal’s lunch will end in about fifteen minutes, and she’s more than ready to take the escape route.

“You came!” Donald says with Daisy and the boys in tow. It’s strange. While she certainly doesn’t like Scrooge, she doesn’t know what to feel about Donald and the boys.

Of course I was going to come...some would say, and Opal sighs, “She’s my mom.” That’s end of that conversation. She does compliment the boys in their nice red, blue, and green suits. She tells Daisy her bow is exceptionally tightened today, and she’s impressed Donald has managed to find a sailor suit that stands out from all the others.

These sound condescending, but these are merely observations. She’s sincere about the sailor suit, it’s a lighter shader than his usual black, and the material is strong, sturdier. It has a delicate sheen about it.

“Where are they?” Donald asks, “I didn’t see them out front.”

“Already up there, waiting for the judge.” She motions to the couple standing idly, a rare sight to behold, and she leads the way for the ceremony.

Scrooge has his traditional red coat dry cleaned, the first in over two decades, and Goldie wears a simple dress reminiscent of the gold nugget that brought them together in the first place.

She doesn’t want to throw up. That’s good. But she hasn’t eaten. That’s bad. It’s a Saturday, and she needs to start training. Wait...pay attention...they’re exchanging the rings...when did they get rings? Bolivar needs more dog food too. She can’t forget about Bolivar, and the carpet needs vacuuming. Crap...yep...they’re signing the marriage license. Okay.

Mr. and Mrs. McDuck seal the deal with the kiss. They clap, she claps, they all have to clap because this is the moment they’ve waited fifty years for. Opal feels warm. She feels warm and fuzzy, and her ma glitters holding his hand. Opal can’t see him. She doesn’t want to see him, but she sees her ma. And she is happy.

She can be happy for her. Can’t she?

“You’re not coming to the mansion?” Goldie’s tracking skills are tenacious at best except when it comes to Opal, “We’re going to have breakfast, and I promise you, he won’t charge you to eat or wash the dishes.”

Opal is halfway down the stairs, “You are asking a lot from me now.”

Never intimidated, she crosses her arms, and Opal looks away her frowning face. She shouldn’t be frowning, not on this day, “Have you eaten, at least, taken your medicine?”

“No...,” Goldie’s eyes widen in fear (not shock), “but I am going to. I need to run a few errands. It’s fine. I’m not gonna die from not taking my medicine right when I wake up. It says take every morning and every night. Very vague details.”

Flashbacks war in Goldie’s memories, and the frown and its accompanying fear makes Opal wonder. She wouldn’t put it past her. They’re married now, but even the thought of it makes her stomach queasy.

“I am going to eat something and take my medicine right now.” She points down the street, “I’m going in for training right now, so please, don’t worry. Have fun.”

Goldie isn’t convinced. She prepares to protest when a pair of hands approach her from behind, “Aye, m’dear, there ye’ are, wha’ goin’ on ‘ere?”

The thaw comes, and her laughter is like bells. “Oh you...now...stop, what of your meeting?”

“The board can wait.” He grips her waist close to him, and his eyes stray to Opal standing on the side, “Ye’ comin’ to breakfast aren’t ye?”

She wants to cry. She wants to sob and say everything she could never say. Her happiness...she looks so happy...happier than she’s ever been in all the years Opal has been alive. She does more than glitter; she’s positively glowing.

“No.” Opal says firmly, “I have errands to run, but thank you. And congratulations.”

She kisses her mother goodbye, hugs her a little tighter than usual, and says nothing to him, sending him only a hard stare as he glowers at her silently in return.

It’s called compromise.

Lying is not something she’s good at. When she makes it to her apartment and has given Bolivar his breakfast, she eats toast and ham at the kitchen table. The mail sits quietly on the counter top, waiting to be read. She had forgotten about it yesterday in her rush to find a nice dress at an inexpensive price.

As she munches on her toasted ham sandwiches (without pickles) and two morning tablets, next will be her green tablet for the afternoon followed by her nightly blue one, she wanders to the small pile of unopened envelopes.

Several are from her foster brothers and sisters still in Canada, one from a penpal she met when she was 18, and the last reads in bold, printed letters Anatidae Insurance.

Popping her morning pills and orange juice, she slices the envelope open, and reads the letter’s contents. The script is technical, formal, and its sentence structure is the same.

Opal crunched the letter in her hand, and dug her face into it.

“Ms. Opal O’Gilt, due to a downsizing of the department you were originally hired for, you will be transferred to Duckburg’s Money Bin on Killmotor Hill as a receptionist to the Eleventh Floor. You start on Monday.”

She rereads the letter three more times, each reading providing little context, but the situation is extremely clear to her. She chews her second sandwich, and washes it down with a cup of orange juice. Setting the paper down on the counter, she leans back and stares out the window.

She sets the half-empty glass of orange juice on the counter.

Her fists slams on the counter part, causing the dishes in the sink to rattle, and the walls tremble weakly.

It hurts. The pain slices through her skin. Her breathing is shallow, and her shoulders can’t quite stop shaking despite her pleading for them to.

“That Glaswegian son of a bitch.”

A lot of things happened during the week of Goldie O’Gilt’s marriage to Scrooge McDuck. Opal bought a new dress after ten years. She got promoted at work. She bought Bolivar a new collar. She even went to that fancy hair salon and got her hair washed and curled.

But there’s one thing she’ll never forget...one thing she knows will punch her in the gut until the day she dies...and it’s that her mother’s new husband was not a supporter of compromise.

Especially when it came to family.

@humanityinahandbag i’m going to leave this at your doorstep.

@donaldtheduckdad i’m ringing your doorbell!

@robinine-blog no, no i am not looking through your windows. just in my mail truck.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #scrooge mcduck #glittering goldie #goldie o'gilt #duckfiction #mywriting #opal o'gilt

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belladonnaandulriched · 4 years ago

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the artist | chapter nineteen

I awoke to darkness as well as the feeling of something soft and plush right next to me. And it took me a second to realize that it was Joey pressed up against me: his slim little body had coiled up tight right next to me and his coils of jet black hair spread over my head and shoulder. His left hand had made its way onto my hip; despite being so thin and sparse in flesh, he was as warm as anything. His heartbeat moved at such a gentle and steady pace and his heavy breathing only made it all the more soothing. Like sleeping with a teddy bear that made the best white noise.

At some point during the night, I had put my arm around his delicate waist and rested a hand on his upper back. He was so soft and gorgeous that I almost didn't want to let go of him. I leaned my head in closer to his chest for a better hearing of his heartbeat and to better absorb his warmth and comfort.

Sure, I had had sex with Chris but Joey gave me something else. Something that went further than a funny photo at sunrise and something that went further than a good night kiss. His smooth skin felt like a sheet of clean silk and his flat belly had this inviting warmth to it, like on those winter nights when I would eat a lot of dinner and curl up underneath the blankets in my bed. He reminded me of a time I was alone and I had no one to talk to other than my own mind; all the times things were cancelled and I was told I had to stay home, even before things went to hell. He reminded me of a quiet spot away from the world.

He groaned in his throat and rolled over onto his back, or at least he attempted to do just that. The zipper from the sleeping bag kept him pressed up close to me. He groaned again. He wanted out of there—I could sense it.

I opened my eyes again and lifted my head out of there to face the waning darkness. Joey groaned in his throat again.

“Hang on, Joey—hang on—” I whispered to him. He parted his lips and sneered at the tight feeling around him.

“Hang on,” I insisted as I kept my voice in a soft whisper. I inched my way out of that sleeping bag even though it was bit of a struggle; I reached behind him to undo that zipper for him. It slid down the teeth and he rolled onto his back and on the hard floor.

“Ow,” he murmured. He groaned again and opened his eyes. In the dim light, I noticed him looking over at me like a prince.

“What time is it?” he asked me in a broken voice.

“I'm not sure—almost sunrise.”

“Okay…” He lifted himself onto his elbows and tilted his head back to show me his trim neck and fine collar bones. Thin and elegant.

He parted his dark lips about a hair as he returned his gaze to me.

“Would you like some coffee?” he offered me.

“I'd love some.”

I turned my head for a look back at Chris, who was still sound asleep and had never moved from his position there underneath that little window. I looked past Joey at Will and Lars, both of whom were still sound asleep themselves.

Joey stood to his feet and hitched up his pants. He hung there for a second to wait for me; and I crawled out of the sleeping bag, and stood next to him, and gazed into those deep rich brown eyes. A curled lock of black hair fell onto his shoulder and onto his chest.

“Like what ya see here?” he teased me with a shy grin on his face.

“Such a beautiful boy,” I remarked. “Absolutely gorgeous.” I nudged the hair off of his shoulder and his collar bone, and I lowered my gaze to his chest. I had no idea if it was my aching ass or the fact it was still early talking but he looked a lot more lush than normal. I showed him a smile as I lifted my gaze back up to his face.

“So very gorgeous,” I repeated, to which he returned the favor with a little smirk. He gestured for me to follow him into the hallway and then into the next room, where we were met with Tom's continual snoring.

“Six feet away—six feet undah,” Joey muttered as he led me into that kitchen. He ran his fingers through his black curls and then he yawned. I turned on the overhead lights: pure white light shone down upon his head and that thick mop making up the crown.

“Where is the coffee maker?” I wondered aloud.

“'Dunno,” he confessed with his eyebrows knitted together. “I swore I saw one in 'ere yesterday—” He yawned again and rested his hands on the bottom hem of his shirt. He froze as he looked on at me.

“Mind if I take off my shirt?” he offered.

“Not at all,” I said to him, even though I had no idea why he would do that; he lifted his shirt and stripped it off of his slender little body. I felt my face growing warm at the sight of him.

“Allow me to reiterate—like what ya see here?” he teased me as he slung his shirt over his shoulder. To be pressed against that slim gorgeous body again and to touch him again.

My ass was on fire but I needed to touch his chest again. To feel that silky smooth skin. To feel his softness and his love in the time of corona virus.

“Let me love you,” I breathed and I lunged for him.

“Come home to upstate, baby doll,” he beckoned me in a husky voice and with his arm outstretched. “Come ta me—”

“Only if you come home to Hollywood, baby boy,” I retorted to him in a soft whisper. I put my arms around his delicate little waist and pressed my lips onto his. Still warm from the sleeping bag. The skin on his waist was absolutely silky; he backed up towards the wall and I relished this to assert myself. Chris awoke something in me the night before; all I wanted was to touch and feel and blur the line between pure art and pure sexuality.

Joey kept his head pinned to the wall: I ran my hands down his chest to feel his smooth soft skin some more. I wanted to capture this moment here, to be right with the paint brush in hand and with the palette right in front of me. I wanted to bring this here to life on canvas even with each and every kiss to his lips.

He held the side of my head with one hand and gazed into my eyes.

“What's the matter?” I asked him in a hushed voice.

“What if Tahm wakes up?”

“Let's go in the room,” I quipped.

“Which one?”

“The one I painted in.”

He raised those black eyebrows at me.

“Oh, you wanna—?” To which I nodded and showed him an eager smile.

“Okay,” he whispered and he ran his tongue along the edges of his teeth. His brown eyes twinkled with excitement like a pair of fire opals even as I backed away and switched off the light. I led him out of the dark kitchen and past Tom, who never stirred for one second there on the floor as we skirted past him and doubled back to that room with the easel and the paintings in hiding.

Joey closed the door behind him and tossed his black curls back from his shoulders to show me some more of his chest. I was warm and dizzy. But I needed to focus on the easel and the paints before me. He showed me his tongue as he sidled over towards me. He showed me his hip bones with every step across the floor; and it took me a second to realize he had undone his jeans while we were going down the hallway.

He raised his arms over his head to show me some more of his body and his hips.

“Oh, Jesus fuck, you're so fucking hot,” I blurted out. “Get down on the fucking floor, you complete and total babe of a man.”

“Oh, you want me ta get down an' pose fer ya like I'm some kinda Adonis or sump'n?” he teased me and I couldn't help but giggle at that.

“How 'bout—you get down here?” I gestured to the spot underneath the easel. I even stood up for him to take his place there.

“Ya wanna see me orgasm, don't ya,” he purred. I didn't answer as he slunk down onto the floor. I nudged the stool out of the way but I knew that wasn't going to be enough. The crown of his head was almost right underneath the paint tray, which meant I was going to stand right over him.

“Ya wanna see me orgasm, don't ya, Hahllywood,” he repeated. I stripped off my jeans: the cold air in that room tickled me and sent shivers up my bare legs.

“Hahlly?”

I stared down at his round darkened face and those black curls fanned out from his head. Even though he was so slim, he had a little double under his chin, one that I wanted to cover in kisses.

“Hold still, baby,” I coaxed him. I thought back to the night before and what Chris had taught me. I had to be soft and wet to let him in; I stripped off my shirt and took off my bra to expose my nipples to him. He raised his eyebrows at me.

“Oh, ya wanna—li'l—”

“Uh-huh,” I encouraged him. I held onto the paint brush as I knelt down over his waist. He raised a hand to touch my nipples. His fingers were gentle and delicate like watercolor paints. It was like he was finger painting on my breasts. Indian finger painting. His tongue slithered out from those dark lips; meanwhile, I could feel myself loosening up and moistening up again between the legs. I breathed harder and harder as he moved his fingers down onto the full part of my breasts.

“Paint, baby boy,” I beckoned him.

“Speak fer yourself, girlie,” he teased me with a smirk on his face.

“Like you're finger painting!” I felt something underneath me. He was about ready himself.

“You wanna?” I offered to do his jeans.

“Allow me—” But he didn't understand that; instead, he peeled off my underwear.

“Wanna stir some paint?” was all I could think of.

“Only if you wanna do the stirrin'.”

With my free hand, I undid his pants and lowered down onto his dick. The hard floor hurt my knees perhaps more so than the sore spot between my legs so I lifted up a bit to bring myself in a squat position.

“Oh, damn, you're kinky!” He gaped at me as I gyrated over him. It was hard on my knees but it beat kneeling down on the floor. He breathed harder with each and every movement.

“Fuck—” he gasped. “Fuckin'—fuckity—fuck!” His voice heightened to a tiny squeak; maybe if it wasn't so early, I could get him to shriek like how he does on an Anthrax song.

Amazingly, I still held onto the paint brush the whole time I ground on him. It felt like my chest was about to burst. It was rising through me, from the base of my spine and upwards, like a bead of watercolor paint. I lifted up before he reached the top himself. I lunged for the paints on the tray and spread the colors across the easel.

Joey gasped and huffed as I painted the round shape of his handsome face and the tight coils of his black hair. He pinched his eyes shut given I had stopped him from orgasming. He looked like a little Indian boy who had reached the utmost level of euphoria and was begging for more. It was funny: it was as if whenever he reached the top, I reached it there with him. It was like our bodies were in sync with each other; I felt his rhythm where he led the way like a little Indian chief.

But I wanted to tease him some more. I reached a spot on the painting when I stopped and sank down on him again for some more gyrations. He rose higher and higher and before I came to my climax, I lifted up to halt him right in his tracks.

“Call it—” he sputtered. “Call it—fuck—call it 'the artist'—fuckly—”

“The artist fuckly?” I teased him as I sank down on him again.

“God—damn it all straight to bloody hell!” he blurted out as I brought him back up again. I knew he was going to come at some point, so I added in another gyration to cut him loose. I lifted up right as he tilted his head back and let out a soft moan. I kept the paint brush in hand as I leaned over his body, absolutely raw and exposed like how an art model should be.

“Mmm, good boy,” I told him in a soft voice. He gasped for air.

“You're—You're—” he stammered.

“I'm what?” I asked him as I hung over his face. He opened his eyes and gazed at me with his lips parted and his skin coated with a beautiful healthy glow.

“You're naht showin' that fuckin' paintin' in the gallery,” he finished.

“What, the one I just made?”

“Yeah.”

“Wasn't planning on it,” I assured him with a wink. “No one needs to know that you and I became the artist for a few moments in here.”

#the artist #the artist fanfic #the artist chapters #chapter 19 #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #joey belladonna #joey belladonna fanfic #smut #smut fanfiction #also on ao3 #sci fi writing #writing #fan writing #artistry #text

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cuddlefish85 · 7 years ago

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Sins Of The Father Pt 8

Summary: Reaper bides her time to make her fiery escape. Hopefully you will survive it.

Warnings: violence, mention of death

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come

Several Days Later

A flash of metal and a blur of movement and you feel your body lash out, sparks flicking into life as claws skim against metal.

Your feet snap back and reposition, you hear your ragged breathing and try to force yourself to take settling breaths and focus but of course just like the million other times you try its no use.

Reaper was having too much fun.

You were forced to watch as everyday you would be collected from your cell and forced to fight a different number of guards or The Winter Solider before being force fed food and then sent back to your cell.

And every night you were forced to watch your body pacing the cell like a caged animal. Reaper knew that you would regain control when sleep stole over her, she even signalled Cain and his fellow lab monkeys that she was flagging further thwarting your chances of taking back control.

You flinch as best as you could when the solider lashed out and caught your shoulder, you watch as Reaper stumbles back and hisses. For a moment you swear you saw a smirk pass across the soldiers lips but with in seconds its gone and he's coming forward in another pressing attack.

And that's when you sensed it or rather when she allowed you to sense it, the air shifting around her right hand and then a short scythe swung into your view and you watched as it missed the solider by inches.

“Enough” a cold voice called and you feel her try to press forward but a hand shot out and the solider applied enough pressure for Reaper to know that he would bring you back in an instant.

“Cute” Reaper mutters as the scythe flickered before it disappeared in wisps of black smoke and her hands came up.

For few seconds the solider and Reaper had a stare down but then the solider let go and stepped back with his arms by his side.

“Bastard ain't even breathing hard” Reaper bit towards the unmoving man and once again you swear that you can see a smirk pass across his lips but then Reaper is looking to the latest lab monkey glaring at the pair.

This one not only hated Reaper but seemed to have a loathing for the solider too.

“You have to report back” the lab monkey snapped before he looked down at his clip board not even acknowledging the solider as he stomped past him. The lab monkey looks up at Reaper and you feel the repulsion coil in your stomach at the look he gives you.

“Another guard will come; you will go again” he ordered before he spun and almost slithered out of the room.

Reaper closed her eyes when the sound of the lock being engaged echoed around the room.

“Patience” Reaper ordered within your mind and you almost snort. Reaper would often try this as well, talking to you as though you were old friends.

You ignore her as best you could only once or twice lashing out and hating your self for it when she glanced at the mirror and you saw a smirk playing across your lips.

“For what?” you curse when you hear her chuckle but before she answers she opens her eyes to see the door opening and a mountain of man attempting to shove his form through the door way.

“Just have patience” Reaper muttered before clicking her neck from side to side and readied her self for an attack with an almost feral grin across her lips.

You watch with disgust as Reaper wiped blood from her lip and licked it clean. Reaper chuckles darkly both at your disgust and the mountain of man being carried out and the lab monkey staring fear at her.

When the room was cleared the lab monkey quickly darted out the door and as though doubting his choice to leave Reaper he raced back in and glared at her.

“Your going back to your room” he snapped, hitting a button on the wall causing Reaper's upper lip to curl but instead of using the moment to rush the man she simply held her hands before her with a raised eyebrow.

“Ready when you are” you hear her drawl and wait as a guard who you had not seen before came through the door and jerked his head towards Reaper. Something was off, something that you hadn't felt before.

Reaper was too calm and too eager to follow the guard out. You try to figure out what her plan was but the most you got was just a stone wall. The one time you wanted her to actually talk to you and she stone walls you.

If you were in control you were sure your arms would have to folded tightly over your chest in a huff. But for now you are forced to watch as Reaper follows behind guard and then you notice the lack of normal guards that milled around and then you saw no scientists; in fact you hadn't seen Cain in more than three days. As you near your cell you find a few doors open; places that you had not seen since your arrival.

“move” the guard snarled but still kept his space from Reaper and for a moment you feel her tense but still she kept her cool and followed the only time it seemed that Reaper might fight back was when she paused at the open door of your cell, you feared the way the solider gripped his rifle but Reaper simply smirks and ducks into the room.

When the door locks behind you and Reaper hurries over to the mirror. In the water stained mirror you see that despite her healing powers your face had been marred by bruises that extended beyond the neck line of the white shirt they had thrown at you. You ignore the blackness of your eyes.

“If he wasn't such a tool that Winter Solider would be hot” you snort at the comment and Reaper just grins back at her reflection. After a few moments she turns and all but skip to the bed and for a second you almost wonder if she is going to sleep, but a dark chuckle as she slumps down dispels that idea.

“Told you to have patience” she snips before bending forward and reaching beneath your cot, you feel your fingers prodding and poking between the soft and hard. You hate to admit but curiosity gets the better of you and you almost question her when she rips something and sits back holding her hand up with a prize clasped between her fingers.

For a moment you are unwilling to believe what you were seeing; you would have guessed a weapon and then you figure that in a way it was a weapon.

Against Reaper it was a weapon.

Your ring.

“But”

“You thought they had it? Lost it some how? I managed to learn a lot while you were sedated kiddo” Reaper declared as she tilted the ring, watching the blackness of the opal catching the light before she slip the ring in to the cup of your bra.

“why” you weren't sure as to what you were questioning; why she kept it, why she didn't destroy it or even why they had let her keep it.

“Because.... shit just because I promised that damn old bastard.... I don't know” she growls and you feel the frustration because you both knew what she really wanted to do.

“He was still part mine; still my grandfather” she snaps looking down as though it hurt to say those words and that's when it hits you, all those years ago she had called herself your sister and in a way she was.

“I've been listening to the guards; they talk about S.H.I.E.L.D making moves against other bases. Then two days ago I over heard them talking about moving me. Maybe not today maybe not tomorrow but soon they will come” she declared before standing up and moving to the mirror, avoiding look at your face.

Slipping her fingers behind the mirror, you sense the coldness slipping to your finger tips and with a wrenching sound she rips the mirror from it's brackets and turns it over to see the metal backing.

“Most of this ship is made from bullet proof metal. We just have to be ready when shit goes down” she ordered before replacing the mirror, managing to catch it enough to hang on.

And it turns out that shit went down exactly three hours later when a large explosion rocked the world around you both. As Reaper springs to her feet you know she is grinning like a manic but at this moment in time she was your manic. Snatching the mirror from it's place the lights flicker and another explosion rocks the world around you before the normal lights flick off and the emergency light kicks in.

ripping the mirror from it's place, Reaper stops and cocks her head as she listens to the heavy thumping of boots and just the faintest hint of gun fire. She spins when the lock snaps open and the door is yanked open. The guards arm snapped painfully when Reaper slammed the mirror against his raised arm. His gun skidded to a stop some where under the bed but Reaper ignores it and instead unleashes her claws and jam them up through the guards throat.

Blood bubbled up over his lips and his eyes widen for a few seconds before Reaper yanks her fingers and step around his body. It was worse outside your cell, yells and gun fire could be heard but it was the fact that waves of acrid smoke rolling around the corner. Reaper wisely chooses to turn away from the source of fire and head towards a junction and when gun fire came from the right had side she quickly head left. Hugging the wall as war seemed to erupt above and below her.

Moving and ducking beneath bulk heads she took a second too long to decide on which way to go when the butt of a rifle slammed hard into her shoulder causing her to howl out in pain and you to feel the spider web of pain creeping along the shoulder blade.

You chose to ignore the fact that the pain linger and the fact that Reaper swung a hand out and blood spurted from the guards throat. Moving forward you knew if you ever got your body back it would take a life time to wash the blood from your hands.

“Suck it up princess; us or them wasn't that what the old man always taught you” you could hear the pain in her voice and knew that there was a chance for you to get back your body. She quickly scaled up a stair case and ducked back when a group of darkly dressed soldiers streamed past.

She ascends another stair case only to feel the air thicken with smoke, your vision, as limited as it was, got small when tears bubbled up. As Reaper made to move down a smoke filled corridor a ticking sound surrounded you both and then silence as an explosion drew in more oxygen and Reaper was thrown into the wall, denting it with the force.

“Move” You scream as best as you can and refuse to acknowledge that a piece of metal embedded in her left shoulder was rending it useless. She chuckles and you feel the blood dripping down her chin; when she gets up and staggers down the now mostly smoke free corridor you guess that she doesn't retort because there was too much pain.

Staggering through a door you see the night sky; gun fire echoed around you and you can see figures darting around, and some figures that didn't move. Reaper however didn't care for any of them because in the distance there was lights, hundreds of them which meant land.

A sharp pain radiates from your chest and you winch when Reaper grabs the metal and yanks it. You are sure the scream spilling into the air was a mixture of you both. The world spun and for a terrifying moment you feel blackness creeping over you both but Reaper just pushed forward, hooking her injured arm around her waist and grabbing a life ring which you hope is more for than just decoration.

“No” you all but scream at Reaper when she peers over the side and find yourself staring at black churning water.

Reaper chooses to ignore and with a struggle pulls her self up high enough to go over the railing.

“Damn that old bastard” Reaper mutters and before you can even question what she meant she hugs the life ring tightly to her body and slips off the side into the waiting water.

Your scream is muffled by another explosion.

Then darkness.

#bucky x reader #Winter Solider #MCU #orignal character #Orignal mythology #fanfiction

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ihave-sinned · 7 years ago

Text

Love Bait | Chapter One: ENLISTMENT

Fandom: Shingeki No Kyojin/Attack On Titan (Anime) Type: Series Pairing: Levi x OC Word Count: 5784 Category: Fanfiction (Angst and Eventual Smut)

**Note: Some scenes/dialogues were originally from the manga/anime** **A/N: Sorry for the delay and sorry for any wrong spelling or grammar in advance.Please enjoy reading :) If you haven’t read the PROLOGUE it’s >>here<< **

“I never said that.They want me dead.But i never said i wanted to die,"

CHAPTER ONE: ENLISTMENT

Wall Sina | Year 847 | Mitras | 9:00 am

Placing my book on my lap,I stretched my arms out into the early morning,I always knew it would be a fine day when I couldn’t feel the temperature of the air.It’s summer.The hottest of all four seasons.I felt the gentle wind caressed my face as i opened the small window of the carriage and let my eyes wandered around my surrounding.The sun was already a friendly ball of yellow,promising more heat as the day progressed.Blue sky and white strips of cloud scattered up above,some are long strips,some are small but my favorite ones were those which has a weird formation,creating various beautiful shapes that will sometimes tickle my imagination. All in all i couldn’t have asked for a better weather.

Minutes passed by and i can no longer smell the sweet fragrance of freshly cut grass.The sound of birds chattering in the trees faded replaced with the faint sound of people talking,footsteps and the noise made by the objects being push,pull or drop can be heard inside the carriage I’m riding in.People scattered everywhere doing their own business. The once quite scenery was replaced by the noise of the lively and busy market place. My mind was fully occupied by the surrounding when I felt someone licked my hands.

"Hey,buddy,” I smiled,petting my dog’s head as he barked,his tail wagging.

He’s a gray German shepherd gift given to me by my mother on my fourteenth birthday, he’s pretty big compare to the average size of a dog,and he looks like a smaller version of wolf because of his color.I love exploring yet i am terrible at directions at the same time,so I get lost often,and Evo was trained for that.He was trained to be my guard and to be my guide.He’s always with me whenever I go outside,specially if I’m going to a place I’m not familiar with.

“Whoa!”I heard the coachman yelled.The horse halted with a neigh as i felt the carriage I’m riding in stopped.

I closed the book on my lap with a small thud before placing it beside me.I tucked a strand of my armpit length brown hair behind my ear as i stick my head out the window of the carriage,peeking outside.

“Lady,” said the girl beside me. “Please sit properly,” Her voice was soft yet stern.

My honey brown orbs met her green once as I put my head back inside the carriage.My eyes flickered with excitement,not paying attention to what she had said as i felt an electrifying feeling surge through my veins.

“Naya,are we already ‘here’? ”Naya’s lips pursed slightly,her eyebrows furrowed a bit as she stared at me,worry was visibly etched on her face.I saw small glint of fear crossed across her eyes and she let out a quite shaky sigh as if bracing herself to what will gonna happen.Her knuckles white,as she unconsciously clutched onto her long skirt before nodding.I brought my hands on top of her knuckles,giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Naya,Everything will be fine,so don’t be nervous,” I said giving her a reassuring smile, “Trust me,”

Naya stared at me for a moment before smiling slightly, giving me a small nod of agreement.I smiled once more before placing my book back inside my bag,clutching the handle tightly as i opened the door of the carriage.

“Let’s go then.” I said rather cheerfully as I looked at Evo and he started barking excitedly, “You too,buddy,” and that’s the only cue he needed before he jumped quickly off the carriage and began walking around while sniffing the ground.

As soon as my feet touch the ground,a man in his 50’s approached me.He’s wearing a black tuxedo and a black hat.He has a broad-shoulder,a lean posture and a tanned wrinkled skin– a sign of aging.He has this friendly smile plastered on his face as he removed his hat,exposing those gray-ish strands of his.He then bow down his head courteously before standing straight placing his hat back on his head,still smiling. Evo jumped up on him gleefully,his front paws were on the man’s waist level,tail shaking from side to side and his tongue sticking out.The old man laughed calming the overjoyed dog by petting its head.

“Uncle Rob!" I smiled back.

"Vaccines,medicines,food and clothes are all ready,Miss Elena,”

My lower lips protruded in a childish pout as i heard the way he addressed me.I hoisted my bag on my shoulder,crossing my arms over my chest,pout never leaving my mouth earning a small laugh from the old man.

“Just Elena,Uncle Rob,”

I never liked the way Naya and Uncle Rob addresses me.Firstly,because Uncle Rob,even though he’s not my Uncle by blood, he’s always been working under my family as a butler,even before i was born.And Naya is like a real sister to me. She used to call me in my real name tho,but when she heard Uncle Rob calling me Miss Elena,and ever since when she started to learn the honorifics she began calling me 'Lady’ treating me high and mighty rather than treating me as her own sister.As a real sister.And it saddens me.

“Oh! Hi,Mr.Williams,” I heard Naya spoke behind me with a lively voice as she get herself out of the carriage. Evo was now sitting quietly beside me,his tongue still sticking out.

“My,my,You two really grew so fast,huh?Last time i remember you two were just this small,” He said motioning his hands,placing them on his waistline as Naya and I giggled softly,”Oh, and about the goods,“ The old man added before he whistled. To my shock ten men suddenly came up and began unloading the carriage.I blinked few times, analyzing what’s happening.

"Did–,” I said pointing at the men carrying the goods.”Did my dad sent them here?”

"No,Grandma did.It will be hard for us to carry those boxes without them,Lady,”

‘Well,obviously’ i thought.I bet i couldn’t even carry a single box,but sending ten men was kinda over reacting.I looked at Uncle Rob for confirmation,giving him a 'for real?’ look and he nodded.

“I know but,I was expecting fewer people.Maybe three men is enough,right?”

“Well,” i heard Uncle Rob sighed “Your granny knows how dangerous for us to go in such place,so she thinks sending three men is not enough.”

I frowned but nodded.

“Anyway,Uncle,”I said as i moved my gaze from the boxes to Uncle Rob “Where is 'it’?“ I asked and he looked at me questioningly.

"Oh,that,” he said as he remember, “On your left,Miss El,”

The frown on my face subsided slowly as I felt the surge of excitement runs through my body once again.I turned my head on my left side and gulped, Silently reading the letters written on the wall right next to an arrow.

'To Underground City’

I am finally here.

Again.

I flopped down on my bed groaning while messing my hair,feeling disappointed while I felt Evo lay beside me.I laid on my stomach while digging my face on my pillow as I clutched on it tightly.Lifting up my head a little,I look through my windows,quietly watching as the brilliant orb of amber and tangerine sunk lower and lower in the sky until it dipped down into the horizon, painting the sky in magnificent hues of fiery red and crimson illuminating my room. The colors faded from maroon to neon pink and majestic purple. An impossibly bright orange colored the world a sparkling gold as the sun descended. The sky changed from cornflower blue to a subtle purple, speckled with diamonds and adorned in one large orb of opal.

The first summer night of this year.

The dim light of the moon was the only one that serves a small light in my huge dark room.I rolled on my bed and lay on my back,staring at the white ceiling of my room in the middle of silence.The goods were properly distributed.I enjoyed this project but I’m quite disappointed at some point.So far the projects were successful except 'him’.

My first project was to help the refugees of Wall Maria.Those people who has been forced to leave their hometown and moved inside Wall Rose when the outer wall was breached by the Armored Titan and Colossal Titan two years ago.I chose Underground City for my second project not only because I saw how miserable was the life of people living in there but also,because of 'him’.That boy who saved me and Naya.

I knew that my chance to meet him again after thirteen long years was so small,I didn’t even catch his name,neither I know if I would recognized him if I see him.But i willingly took the risk.I just wanted to thank him for what he did to me and to Naya. And by 'thanking him’ I mean,I wanted to help him.I can help him out of that place if that’s what he want.I never get the chance to thank him back then because he left as soon as my parents came and found me.

’If he didn’t left maybe I could convinced my parents to adopt him too’.

How does he look like again? I couldn’t actually remember.Neither Naya can.The only thing I can remember were his eyes.Those pair of grey orbs,staring coldly.One of the most beautiful pair I have ever seen in my entire life.I sighed closing my eyes falling into a deep slumber.

Three consecutive knocks on my door woke me up from my sleep. Evo lifted his head and opened his eyes raising his left ear as the door opened with a small squeak ,but then lay his head back on my bed comfortably,closing his eyes when he saw it was just Naya who entered my room.I opened my eyes groaning as I glanced at the wall clock.

9:45 pm.

“Lady!" Naya called out catching her breath, one hand resting on her knee and the other one holding a small lamp. I sat on my legs lazily,stretching my limbs before rubbing my eyes.I looked at myself at the mirror beside my bed,my hair,a tangled mess.My gaze moved from the mirror to Naya.

"What is it,Naya?” I tilted my head in a slight confusion as i scrutinized the girl in front of me, “Did you run?" i asked yawning.

She swallowed and nodded,trying to calm her breath.

"You seem so tired,Lady.Would you like to rest first?”

I shook my head and sat on the edge of my bed trying to fix my hair with my fingers.

“Nah,I’m fine.I just woke up,” I said still fixing my hair. “So,what’s up with you running like that?”

“Another letter arrived," Naya said showing out a small white envelope.

I looked at it before I nodded nonchalantly.Just another letter from the medical establishments doesn’t excites me.After i attained my highest education in the field of Medicine and graduated with the highest award being the youngest person who ranked first in the over-all-ranking,since then, medical organizations started their obsession on sending me letters,offering and encouraging me to join them,however,none of those letters caught my interest.They keep sending letters and i keep on refusing.I know that they just want me for money,the name and the fame.If I joined them,the chance of being hired by the nobles as their personal doctor will get higher and that also means bigger money.And i absolutely loathed the idea.

"Guess i need to declined another letter hmm?”

I shrugged walking towards my vanity mirror to brush my hair.

“But,Lady..” Naya said with her widened eyes looking at me, “This is not 'just another letter’,”

I stopped.Looking at Naya through my mirror.

“What is it then?” I asked,raising my right eyebrow.My eyes flickered with curiosity.

“It’s a letter from the royal family.Here," She said and I frowned,confused. Naya showed the envelope,pointing the stamp.I squinted my eyes looking at the small white envelope through my mirror. "It has a royal stamp,Lady,”

Recognizing the stamp,I gasped and spun around quickly.I walked towards Naya to check the letter myself. Naya hand it over me.The stamp was the image of the castle and the King’s initials.My eyes widened as my fingers touched the stamp.

‘But why?

I thought.I looked at Naya,and she’s already looking at me,My confused hazel brown hues met her pair of confused green once,returning my eyes on the small white envelope,i opened the letter that was addressed to me.My eyes scanned the letter.Each word was neatly written.And on the lower right,there was the King’s signature along with the royal stamp just like the stamp on the outside cover.The letter was clearly not an invitation nor an offer.It’s an order–An order from the King.Defying it means death.I can’t just decline it.As i proceed on reading,a certain line caught my attention.A small smirk crept on my face as I folded the paper neatly placing it back on the envelope,closing it.

“Pack your things,Naya,” I said walking towards my bed,“ We’re leaving.”

“Wha–..Where are we going,Lady?”

“Grandma’s,”I answered shortly as i get my luggage under my bed.

“But,Lady!The King expect you to be there before sunrise,” Her voice trembling as she speaks.”And if you refused you will be sent to–” her eyes widened as if realization hits her.

I didn’t speak, instead I walked towards my closet and get a good amount of clothes,placing it inside my luggage.

“Lady,Don’t tell me you–” the crease forming between his eyebrows became deeper.

“Yes,” I said calmly.

She opened her mouth like she’s about to say something but it seems like she can’t find the right term,that she’s unsure what to say so she closed it again,before she bit her bottom lip.

“You know dad will never allow me to go.” I sighed,turning to her,placing my hands on either side of her shoulder. “This is the only chance i have,"

"But,” she paused searching for words,”I know that you know this is not a good idea,Elena,”

I was quite shock when she called me in my real name.Sign that she’s angry yet worried,but she can’t stop me. I’ve waited for this opportunity for so long.I’m thankful that she always worry about me.I really am.But now,It’s the right time for us to choose our own path.

"Yes,I’m sorry,”

I murmured as i watched her walked towards the door quietly.The sound of opening and closing of my door is the only noise can be heard,a quite click followed. Naya walked out of my room leaving me without a single word.

****************************

Wall Rose | Year 847 | Ehrmich District (south) | 12:00 am

Sipping my tea, I let my eyes wander in my surrounding. A wooden table in front of me and a cup of tea on the table.This house was not as fancy as the one where me and Naya live.This house is more simple yet it gives me the feeling of relaxation and comfort. I’ve missed this house.Me and Naya used to spend our vacation in this house back then, but it stopped when I became preoccupied with my studies.

I heard someone cleared their throat.Following the sound, my gaze fell on my grandmother’s face.Her suspicious eyes already boring at me.

“So,what brought you here,young women?”

“Are you not happy to see us,granny?” I said dramatically clutching my chest.

“Shut up,El.You know that’s not what i meant,”

I pouted childishly.My grandmother is stricter than my mother,while my father has always been the softest one.Basically my grandmother’s the strictest person in the family.

“Why?Is it now bad to visit you,granny?”

“No.But at midnight?Seriously El?It will only take two hours of driving for you to reached my house.And that means you didn’t really planned to visit me but you had to because something came up.” she paused sipping her coffee. “So tell me,young woman.Did something wrong happened?”

My childish pout was now replaced with a serious expression,lips pursed tightly as I turned my gaze to Naya. She’s fidgeting while looking at the unmoving liquid substance in-front of her,holding her mug tightly.I sighed. I’ve already mentioned my plan to my grandmother before as well so I know she wouldn’t be so surprised if I bring up the topic.I turned my gaze to my grandmother, my hazel brown eyes met her dark brown hues still staring at me intently,I wet my lips.

“I am leaving for Military Training,grandma,” I said as I stared at her not blinking while biting my inner cheek.

She continue to stare at me as well with so much intensity as if she’s looking for something in my eyes.Silence.The wind blow and the cold air entered through the open window of the dinning room and slightly caressed my cheeks. Silence. Only the sound of leaves swaying with the wind can be heard. Silence. Naya looked at me then to the old woman,feeling the tension rising up.

“No," My grandma said her voice low yet firm.

I let out a sigh.I just realized I was unconsciously holding my breath while I was waiting for my grandmother’s answer.

"You can’t do anything even if you’re against it,granny.The King sent a letter earlier,ordering me to work under him as his personal doctor.They’ll send someone to fetch me tomorrow and I’ve already leave a letter of declination on one of the maid in the mansio–." I tried to explain but i was cut.

I was surprised when my grandmother slapped me hard right on my face before I can even finished what I was saying.I touched my cheeks, eyes wide opened,She never slapped me before.

"Say,” She asked her voice was shaking. “You wanna die?”

“I never said that.They want me dead.But i never said i wanted to die,granny,” I argued and she frowned.

“And what about Naya?You’ll drag her with you?” she asked slightly gritting her teeth,pointing her finger to Naya.

I was about to speak when i heard the chair squeak as Naya stood up,all our eyes on her.

"I–” she stuttered. “I’ll go too,”Naya said with such determination that almost match mine if only her voice weren’t shaking.

“Naya,no,” I said rather calmly as I looked at Naya,creased forming between her eyebrows. “ Never,”

I turned my eyes to my grandmother as she sighed closing her eyes,while pinching the bridge of her nose,trying to calm herself

"I’m sorry,for causing you stress.” I bit my lip looking at her apologetically.“I just wanted to say goodbye to you personally at least before i leave." I paused then look at Naya who’s still standing,her fists curled tightly. “And as for Naya,I’m gonna leave her here in your house.”

I know it will be the best for the both of them,since grandma’s not getting any younger,Naya can take care of her.Also, Naya needs someone to be with her.She can’t be alone.She hates it.

“You don’t understand,Elena." she said sniffing,"What i hate the most is..being left behind,”Naya said,tears running down her face,her voice shaking yet she spit those last two words venomously before she ran upstairs,leaving me and my grandmother in the dinning room.

My eyes widened and I froze not just because she called me in my real name for the second time this day,but because I realized something; I’ve hurt Naya. I will do the thing she hated the most.I will do the same thing those people in her past did to her.I will leave her.Will she hate me?I stand up from my seat and I was about to chase her when my grandmother stopped me on my tracks.

“You sit,”

I swallowed the invisible lump on my throat and patted Evo’s head before i whispered. “Evo. Go to Naya,okay?" I said smiling at my dog and he barked on agreement.

"Good boy," I patted him one last time before he run upstairs,my eyes followed my dog’s movement until I can’t see him anymore.I sat myself on the chair as my grandmother began to speak.

“Why?” she asked in almost inaudible voice,“Why can’t you just accept the order and live peacefully inside Sina just as what your mother told you?” I bit my lip,hanging my head low “Like me and your father want you to do?”

I stayed silent as she bombarded me with questions.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” She said her voice weak.“If you’re just doing this to avenge your mother’s death,then stop it.You don’t have to do that,honey,”

“Avenging my mother’s death is far from my real intention,granny.I wanted to do this because i wanted to help,” my eyes started to tear up as i started to remember her, “Just like my mother did,“

I admire my mother,Most of doctors declined working under Scouting Legion because they can’t offer them high income.But she chose to work under that Legion.There’s so many excellent doctors out there but they chose to work under the royalty.Under nobles.Only a few of them have the guts to work under this Legion,when in fact they’re the one who needs us the most.

“And I wanted to help not just as a doctor,but also,as a soldier”

She stared at my eyes as if she’s reaching out for my soul.And I stared at her eyes with my pair of hazel orbs full with determination.She sighed as if it’s the sign that she gave up.

"Did your dad know about this?”

My grandma asked but I didn’t answer,instead I just hang my head low.She clicked her tongue shaking her head.

“Did you even mentioned this plan to him?”

“I did,once.But he got angry,” I pouted.

“Who wouldn’t?Be thankful your dad didn’t slapped you like i did,”

“He almost,”

And I almost forgot about the slap tho.Now that my grandma mentioned it,I touched my cheek and I felt my cheek sting a bit.But I know the training will be more painful.

“But,I’m sorry.I just..” She trailed off, “I just don’t want to lost you the way i lost your mother.”She said and turned her head to the open window, looking at the sky. “My only daughter.”

I hummed.

“I know.I’m sorry too–”

“And I want you to know that I’m still against it.I just hope you’ll never regret this." She said with a quite yet sad voice.I give her a reassuring smile,hugging her.

"Nev–”

“Save it.I want you to say that to me one day.Not now,okay?” She said detaching herself from the hug and I nodded,“Promise me,”

I smiled,as i brought my hand on the left part of my chest. “I promise.”

“Now go upstairs and talk to Naya.” she said smiling sadly.

—–

I knocked on the door before I opened it.There I see Naya on her bed,hugging Evo. She’s now on her nightwear. A white long sleeve duster that goes just below her knees with some ruffles on the collar.Some of the strands of her black waist length hair were covering her face.The only source of the light is the moon that can be seen through her windows, illuminating the dark room with its dim light.The curtain slightly swaying in the breeze entering her open window.I can hear some occasional sniffs which meant she’s still awake..and crying.I walked towards her bed and I sit on the edge, her back facing me. Evo stand up and walk towards me.I patted his head whispering a 'Thank you’ before I turned to Naya.

“Naya..” I called but she stayed silent.

I started humming a song,because I know it calms her.Music calms me too.We both like music so much.I play piano and she plays guitar.We usually spend time together composing music.To be honest most of the things we know,we learned them together.

“Back then we always learn things together.But now,” I trailed off. “It’s a bit different.We need to choose our path..of what would we like to be,”

“Bring me with you then,” She speaks all of a sudden.

I looked at her with a saddened expression in my eyes and she looked at me with her pained ones.I want her to do the thing that her heart desires.Not this.This is not what she wanted.I know she’s just doing this because of me.

She get up from her bed and shook her head before she looked at me.“Why is that you can to decide for yourself and you wont let me on my own.That’s unfair,Lady,” My expression softened as I heard her statement

"I can’t," I muttered with sadness lace on my voice.

"You can.You just don’t want to," She murmured before laying on her bed once again,but now ,covering her face with her blanket.

"If you will continue to deny my request,then please kindly leave the room,Lady.There’s nothing to talk about,”

That night I let Evo to stay on Naya’s room,instead of mine.

*********************************

|6:30 am|

Morning came so fast.Silence engulf the whole surrounding. I’m now dressed and ready to go,I’m just waiting for the carriage that will fetch me to arrive.Naya on the other hand is still on her night ware.My grandmother look at the both of us,sipping her black coffee.

“I assume you two didn’t solve your problem,”

She said breaking the silence as she noticed the black circles below my eyes as well as Naya’s eyes.No one answered.Just another silence,It pains me that I will leave like this.We heard a loud knock on the front door.I looked at Naya then to my grandmother.Grandma gave me a small nod before I rushed to the front door,opening it as I saw a man standing outside holding a white paper to which I assumed was a sketch of me.He look at the paper then he looked at me while I get my luggage and carry it.I looked at him.He’s wearing a brown jacket,and a light blue shirt underneath,a white pants with straps and a leather boots.On his jacket an embroidered logo of a green unicorn.The infamous logo of Military Police Brigade.

“I came here under the King’s mighty order.I was sent here to deliver his words.Come with us.Don’t you dare escape, for i was given lawful authority to shoot and kill you if you dare.Don’t you dare refuse, for i had take you by force if y—,”

The man stopped when I walk passed him and get out of the house before he can even finished his sentence.He then grabbed my arm harshly and clicked his tongue.

“What a rude lady,”

I heard him said and I gritted my teeth,glaring at him as I tried to free my arm off his grasp by wiggling it violently.

“I won’t escape,goddammit.”

“Just to make sure,” he said without letting go of my arm.

“You have a gun,you could just shoot me if i dare,just as what you said earlier” i snarled.

“Unafraid,eh?” he chuckled but he didn’t let go of my arm.Squeezing it tighter instead,trying to intimidate me.I hissed,pained and irritated. “Anyway,” he trailed off “You’re not gonna say goodbye to them?” he said looking at the two women standing in the doorway of the house.

I gulped.I can’t get myself turn on my back,because if i will, i don’t know, I’ll probably break down,so i shook my head.

“Really?” he sounds amused,a devious smirk plastered on his face. “Who knows,this might be the last time you’ll be able to see them,”

I sighed closing my eyes.I won’t let my emotions control me.I can’t let that happen so I get inside the carriage with my luggage as fast as i can and the man closed the door almost instantly after he get inside with me.I looked through the window,there I see my grandmother and my sister. Both of them held a sad expression on their faces as I waved at them and smiled gently.Gently yet sadly.

“Whoa!”

The coachman yelled and the carriage began to move as the horse starts walking.That’s when I heard a bark.I peek through the windows and I saw Evo running after the carriage.

“Wait!" I shouted.

"What?" The man beside me asked, irritated.The coachman slowed down the horse.

"Evo,i mean my dog.Can i at least take him with me?”

“Are you trying to escape using your dog?” The man said chuckling,he then turned to the coachman.“Please go on.Ignore her.”

I frowned. And the carriage starts moving again.

“No!Of course not,”

“Sure." The man beside me scoffed. I was about to say something when he speaks.

"You will shut your mouth or else i’ll shoot your dog." He said showing me his gun.

************************************

Training Camp| Year 847 | 8:30 am

"Move faster,dipshit,”

I accidentally dropped my luggage on the ground as the MP pushed me off the carriage. I heard him clicked his tongue. I hissed picking up my luggage.I noticed that he’s still on the carriage.I frowned at him.

“Here," He throw a paper bag on me.I caught the bag and look what’s on the inside.

"That’s your uniform," He said and I nodded as he closed the door of the carriage.

"Wait,where are you going?”

“My job here was already done,young lady,”

“What?” I asked confuse and the carriage starts to move. “Wait!” I shouted, but it didn’t stop.

I feel uncomfortable and nervous at the same time as I looked around me.It’s been so long since I went outside without Naya and Evo around.There’s so many people here and,most of them are so young.Most of them are refugees.I sighed walking around trying to find a place where I can changed my clothes,but to no avail.This place was just too big and too unfamiliar.I don’t know where to go,and I’m completely lost.I’m really bad at this.

"Trainees,gathered together and form 10 lines 20 rows,Now!!” I heard someone shouted and i started to panic.

“Dammit!" I hissed.

I haven’t even put my uniform on,I’m still on my goddamned casual clothes for Pete’s sake.I saw some trainees running on a certain direction,I looked at the paper bag in my hands then on the running trainees,contemplating.Should I change my clothes first? or should I follow them and fall in the line as well?

Clicking my tongue, I followed them.While running,I noticed that all trainees are now on their uniform except me.Great.Just great.When everyone’s done on choosing their place in the line,a loud voice boomed that made everyone flinched and automatically straighten their bodies.

"Straight those pants,peasants!The hundred and fourth Cadet Corps boot camp starts now!Allow me to introduced myself,” he said as he stood straight in front of us, “I’m the former Commander Keith Shadis,and you will gonna hate me.Training is gonna be a white-knuckle ride through hell.If I’ve done my job you’ll be waking up in a cold sweat from memories of this place every night for the rest of your miserable lives.Right now you’re nothing,livestock.But over the next three soul-crashing years,you’ll learn to take down your own Goliath.Remember this moment when you come face to face with him cause here’s where you will ask yourself ’Am i a fighter or am i a food?’,'Am i gonna be ground up to a pulpy human breast wing boulder sized incisors or am i gonna be that one that bite?’”

He shouted with all force with such voice that will make anyone shit their pants.He then started to walk towards the trainees,examining their faces with a glare.

“Hey,mop-top!” He called and go in front of a certain blond boy.

“Sir!”The boy answered,standing straight placing his right hand on the left side of his chest and curling up his fingers,his other hand on his back.

“What did i’ll call you,maggot?”

“I’m Armin Arlert from Shiganshina,sir!" he said flinching slightly.

"Wow,seriously?Why would your parents cursed you with such a dumb name?”

“It was my grandfather,sir!!”

And just like that the former Commandant continued insulting the new recruits.One.by.one.

“What do you call yourself?”

“I am Marco Bott,sir.From Jinae,in Wall Rose’s Southern District,sir!I came to join the Military Police and pledge myself to the King!”

He said, wanting to sound so brave and lively but I can still feel the nervousness in his voice.

'Another one who wants to join the MP huh?’ I thought.

“Well then,that makes you an idealistic fool and a rube.You want the truth?The only use the King has for your life and limbs are titan fodder." The man said moving to the next target like nothing happened.

Things just got worse when he saw a certain bald boy saluted with his left hand instead with his right,the former Commandant grabbed his head and lifted him off the ground.I didn’t expected him to be this rough with the soldiers,especially with the new recruits.

"Listen up,Connie Springer!This was one of the first things you were taught,this salute means you’re offering your heart to the King and for humanity,Is your heart on the right side,shithead?”

He said before releasing the bald boy’s head.He turned his head on the next row.On my row.A girl eating potato caught his attention and I’m near her.

Her.Another Cadet.Me.

“Hey,you there,what do you think you’re doing?" He said walking towards to the girl.The girl looked on her both sides before she took another bite of her food.

"You are officially on my shitlist,Just who the hell are you?" The man shouted angrily.

Swallowing the food on her mouth quickly, she answered,"Sasha Blouse from Dauper,in Wall Rose’s Southern District at your service,reporting for duty,sir!" She said saluting the potato still in her hand.

"Sasha Blouse huh?And what is that you’re clutching in your right hand?" The man said in his low voice.Looking at the innocent steamed potato she’s clutching in her hand with a glare.

I don’t know if am i the only one who find this situation funny,I’ve been holding back a loud laugh ever since the conversation with the potato girl started.Looking around all i see are stiffened soldiers.I can say that the former Commandant did a great job on intimidating them.

"Why?I can’t comprehend,Why would you eat that potato?”The girl started to look confused.

“Are you asking me why people eat potatoes?I’m surprised you don’t know,sir.”

Everyone’s jaw dropped and eyeing her shockingly.Silence engulfed the surrounding and she halfheartedly took a small part of the potato,sighing.

“Here,sir.Have half." She said as she holds out the small part.

That’s when I accidentally let out a loud laugh.Realizing it,I automatically lowered my head and avert my eyes on the ground covering the half of my face as I heard footsteps coming closer.My heart thumping so loud.

"Who the hell are you?And what are you laughing for?” he stopped for a moment and i got nervous, “And why you’re not wearing your goddamned uniform,cadet!?”

He shouted,his voice sent chills down my spine. I placed my hand on the left side of my chest and the other at the back.I stood straight but my head still bent down.

“I couldn’t find a place where i can changed my clothes,sir!!”

I said,eyes still on the ground and my head lowering more and more by the seconds.Then there’s silence first before he answered.

“What a dumb piece of shit.Why the hell you’re looking at the ground,shithead?Lift up your head and look at your superior!!”

I flinched as he shouted louder than before.I’m surprised he haven’t recognized me..yet.“I will asked you once again.What is your name?!”

Knuckles-white,I slowly lift my head up,gathering all my strength I speak loud and clear.He froze,staring at me.Shock etched his face as he recognized me.

"Elena Shadis,from Mitras,the innermost Capital inside Wall Sina,Sir.” I bit my inner cheek nervously as i heard audible gasps and whispering around me.Eyes still focus in front as the man,scrutinize me in astonishment.

“E-Elena?” he stuttered.Swallowing the invisible lump in my throat,I looked at him apologetically before i speak.

“Dad.”

-CHAPTER ONE END-

To Be Continued...

End Of the First Chapter

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