#can’t think of a witty enough caption

[icarianarts]

[borreloadsavagedragon]

11, 16, and 20

oh god, I’ll do my best!!!

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

3! And they are all names for the same one ship bc this community loves to make new names out of nowhere for everything omg

I’ve mentioned this one in particular before vaguely in character ask games but I don’t wanna always bring it up, the tag and filtering system does all it has to for me and ygo is one of the few communities that actually does tag accordingly usually, Twitter is the raging exception but Twitter rewards witty captions versus tags and I love obstacle courses 

I’ve gotten vagued about and subtweeted enough for sharing the ships I do like, I’d hate to be someone who bashes something of value to someone else and make them feel insecure about their favorite things by subtweeting them because I do know many who do love the pair 

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I had to think on this one bc the only things I could honest to god think of were a handful of ships and I really don’t wanna go that route dbshhsjs

I will literally read anything that isn’t like… too much into dead dove territory 

BUT

Some Fanon inside jokes can be annoying once they’re super overdone, ygo jokes I come across aren’t too bad outside of the TCG (ygo players reading jokes and draw good card memes are so bad, stop making them 733627472738 times) but like… even in our small franchise corner, some of them are overplayed

Like Yusei drank milk once and now his figure has to have a glass of milk, we did that

NSFW for literally ten seconds but

(also stop making the stereotypical rival characters into domineering or nasty tops, it’s weird)

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

oh my god ok, here it is, the one question I can go full hater on

Ok so I LOVE protags usually, I'm rarely a protag hater, but I hate when shows go out of their way to make protags solve EVERYTHING even when it’s really not appropriately theirs, like shows that need to find reasons to keep protagonists in the episode or in the frame, or to remind us that it’s the protag’s world and the cast is just all living in it

Like it’s definitely my fault being so involved with Shonen shows that I don’t get to see the latter happen a lot since Shonen is like the BIGGEST offender of this trope but I still wanna complain!!!!!!

God I lowkey wanna talk abt Arc V for this but we’re just gonna… *brushes show off of desk into a lock drawer* 

That’s a can I cannot open

So let's talk Zexal II, aka the part where I get to talk about the worst duel in the entire franchise because I can’t even rewatch these episodes for my analysis without wanting to slap my computer shut, it makes me that angry 

Uh

Some Spoilers since I know you're still watching

😭😭😭

Like this comes from a place of someone who fights off Yuma hate in the TCG community regularly

But in my whole ass I feel like Heartland and Kaito’s duel is an actual disaster

It's also honestly a little bit of character assassination as a treat for no reason but we'll touch that in detail in the paper

And letting Yuma and Astral take this duel over is just an egregious slap in the face lmfao

Especially how the show chooses to handle Kaito passing out and everything following when he finally returns to consciousness that just makes him essentially a step up from background character

Yet people deadass have the nerve to say Kaito has the most favoritism, bitch where lol

Extremely unsatisfying to watch someone who's been an established threat for the ENTIRE show not be able to dismantle the last standing figure in their life who’s been a source of great pain to them and someone who has never dueled up until this point at that! And not only does he NOT get to take the dub, it's literally his second last duel in the entire show and while the last duel is INCREDIBLE, making this a moment of glory for the protags is weird!

Idk, I stand firmly that this part is unwatchable, just a very badly done way to backseat Kaito to shift the focus onto the original duo, and that in theory is cool, but there are so many better ways to do it

But shonen isn't shonen without some dramatic hero comeback

Shonen is such a love/hate relationship

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 4

Image taken from here. Originally had this image in mind but Tumblr won’t let me upload it. 

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language Word Count: 4.3k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | You are on Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Happy Easter to all who celebrate it!

It’s funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. You don’t realize you have a new favorite word till someone points out you’ve been using it so much. You don’t realize you’re addicted to caffeine till you get headaches from withdrawals. You don’t realize you can’t live without dessert till the sugar crash hits. And in the same way, Renjun didn’t realize he had gotten used to your company till he’s waiting outside your lecture hall with an almost expectant inclination to see you. 

A lot of it had to do with who you were as a person. You had pretty much infiltrated Renjun’s life, even though he still kept you at an arm’s distance. One day, he had walked into the library and found you with Jaemin, while the two of you had your heads together over a laptop and a huge gift basket in the making on the table. Jaemin wasn’t the kind of person who invited a lot of new people into his life; so he must have really trusted you because it wasn’t the last time Renjun saw the two of you together. 

But worse than Jaemin was Donghyuck. Renjun was pretty sure that since you’d asked him out, you had probably hung out more with Donghyuck than with him. Almost as if seeing Renjun was just an excuse for you to hang out with him, as you had often joked. It was as if the two of you were kindred spirits, long lost best friends who had finally found one another. Donghyuck would invite you everywhere, get up to no good with you in tow; and before Renjun knew it, the two of you were even planning parties together. Neither Donghyuck nor you needed Renjun as an excuse to hang out with one another anymore, and it amused him. A part of him wondered if Donghyuck was playing along to help his bigger cause. But his friend always looked so genuinely happy around you that any ulterior motive he might have seemed to have been forgotten. 

“Why can’t the sun always be like this?” you said as you laid on the grass using your backpack as a pillow. Your hand was reaching out over your face, your fingers wiggling as you played with shadows.

While you soaked in the sun, Renjun chose to sit under the shade of a tree, sketching away in his book, completing his assignment before his next class.

“You wouldn’t appreciate it as much if it were always like this.” Renjun replies, not looking away from his work. He much preferred paint over charcoal, but he had to admit that the scratching sounds it made against the grains of paper--coupled with the chirping of birds and gentle ruffling of leaves around him--was really relaxing. As was your company.

“Hmm. But it’s still nice to see it without fine dust couture. I like seeing it fully in the nude.” you say, a soft, funny smile on your face while your eyelashes cast shadows on your cheeks.

“Pervert.” Renjun accuses, smiling as he drew. It just makes you laugh and lay sideways to face him. You prop up your head on your hand.

“I’m the sun, Huang Renjun. Now draw me like one of your French girls.” you say in a comical voice and Renjun actually laughs without reservation. 

“Do you have any more classes?” he asks, fixing his black and gold rimmed glasses over his nose.

“Nope. I’m done for the day. Yeri’s supposed to pick me up, so I’m just waiting for her call.” you say, rolling onto your back once more, resuming your dance with the shadows.

Renjun hums a reply as he sketches, but really, he’s thinking that he hadn’t formally met Yeri. At least not yet. He had just had two very awkward run-ins with her the couple of times he had been to your apartment. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been to your place since that last time. And you had never been to his place at all. 

It wasn’t on accident, though. All of it had been by Renjun’s really convoluted design. He had met a few of your friends on campus in the passing, sure. But you were more a part of his life that he was yours. That is exactly what Renjun had planned. Lately, however, that plan seemed to be fading away into the ether. Slowly but surely dispersing from memory till it was more or less abandoned. 

Because Renjun did not realize that he had adopted you like a habit. Any time he saw a witty meme, he had to send it your way because you would text back with an equally witty reply that scratched Renjun’s intellectual itch. Any time Jisung would bring home a baguette, he would take a picture for you with a caption like ‘Francophile life going strong’. The two of you had even developed a silly game where you would look at different marketing taglines and wonder if it would still work to sell condoms. 

‘Nike. Just do it.’ Renjun had once texted.

‘That is a low hanging fruit, Huang Renjun.’ you had replied.

‘Okay, true. But how about Imax: Thing big.’ he had texted back.

‘Hmm, almost but not quite. I need something stronger.’

‘BMW: Designed for driving pleasure.’ he had actually found himself scrolling through a long list of taglines while his assignment laid forgotten.

‘Oof. Now you’ve found the sweet spot. Keep going.’ Renjun had smiled at your reply and had found himself hurriedly looking for something better.

‘Geico: So easy, a caveman could do it.’ 

‘Mmm, didn’t think you were a kinky boy, Huang Renjun. Go on…”

Renjun had actually laughed out loud, making Jisung look up at him quizzically and replied ‘1010 Wins: you give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

‘Yessss! Right there, right there!’

Renjun hadn’t even realized he was grinning wide and standing up from his desk, a list of taglines open both on his laptop and his phone while he scrolled to find the perfect response that would make you happy. ‘Rice Krispies: Snap! Crackle! Pop!’

‘So close, so close, I am almost there!’

‘Washington Post: Democracy dies in darkness.’

‘THAT’S IT, THAT DID IT, THAT HIT THE SPOT!’

Renjun had actually belly laughed at the entire conversation. He didn’t remember the last time he had laughed this way because even Jisung was looking at him with an amused smile, asking “What’s so funny?”

So yes, Renjun had adopted you like a habit. But it wasn’t just through text. When you weren’t the one waiting for him on campus with a couple of cups of coffee in hand, he found he would go looking for you. You would spend all your free time together, just like this. He would find himself missing you on days he didn’t get to see you. He found himself disappointed when you didn’t have time for him because you and Donghyuck were on a very important mission or you had to meet your friends or you had extra work that was demanding your attention. You had just inserted yourself in his life in such a manner that Renjun didn’t even notice.

Perhaps you had nothing to do with it, but Renjun’s life had been treating him pretty well, too. Maybe he was more inspired these days, because his work was getting better and his professors were noticing. His painting instructor had held him back after class one day and offered him an internship at his studio. While it wasn’t huge, it was enough that Renjun had thrown his fist in the air in celebration as soon as he had left class. And you were the first person he texted and he was glad he did because you had texted back a freakout that made him grin like an idiot. You had come to see him as soon as your own class had ended and you had flung yourself in his arms and had jumped around excitedly before dragging him along so you could buy him an artist’s apron as a present. 

“Do you have any more classes?” you ask him as you stare at the evening sun through your fingers.

Renjun’s about to reply when he is interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing in your pocket. You fish it out and sit up, telling Renjun “Hold on…” before answering it. “Are you here, Yeri?” 

Renjun goes back to scratching away in his pad, thinking. Maybe he should introduce himself now when Yeri comes to pick you. But what would he say? ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s friend?’ Everyone on campus knew that the two of you weren’t exactly just friends. It was thanks to your stunt during that one online class, where he’d met you. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend?’ But he wasn’t that, either. While the two of you had become pretty comfortable in each other’s company, you hadn’t really done anything, or had any serious talk about what you were. You two always found yourself tiptoeing “the line”. Actually, no. It was Renjun that tiptoed that line. After his two failed attempts to kiss you, the conversation had just not taken that turn ever again. You two hadn’t leveled up on the PDA front, either. Sure, you had cuddled into him in the back of the cab that one night, and he had half-carried you to your apartment till Yeri took you from the doorstep. But you didn’t seem to remember any of it, so it was basically back to square one. Sure, you had hugged him in joy when he had gotten the internship, but did it really count when the two of you hadn’t even held hands yet? Aside from the innuendo-filled condom tagline talk, the two of you hadn’t really done anything that would constitute as… something a couple might do.

“Okay, but how long would it take?” you’re saying into the phone, a gentle crease growing between your eyebrows. Whatever you heard back must have been distasteful because you grimace. “Okayyyy, Yeri, I’m hanging up now!” you say pointedly and groan, laying back into the grass.

Renjun chuckles “All good?”

“Yeri has brought home a ‘distraction’.” you say, making air quotes, and a face like you’ve tasted something sour. “I’m banished from my own home for the evening.”

Renjun looks up. 

He thinks about his next words carefully. “Um… what are you gonna do?”

You groan once more and say “I’m probably going to crash at Lia’s till my exile is over. So inconvenient!”

“You could come over to mine.”

Renjun didn’t know how it happened, how he found the courage to think it and then actually say it out loud, but now there’s no going back because the two of you are walking down the hallway to his place. He doesn’t know why, but his throat is a little dry and he peeks over his shoulder to see that you seem a bit nervous as well. He takes a deep breath and decides to break the tension.

“Here we are.” He says as he punches in the code. He holds the door open “Hello, MTV. Welcome to my crib.”

It works because it makes you smile. “So, this is where the magic happens.”

“Mhmm, but I hope to God my roommates have at least attempted to clean it up some, because I did text them a head’s up.”

“Lead the way, Huang Renjun.” you say and he does. He walks you into his living room where Jisung is currently sitting, playing video games. The smell of something delicious makes his head turn towards the kitchen where he finds Jaemin.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls out then wipes his hands on a towel before coming in to give you a hug. 

“Hi, Y/N!” Jisung says without looking up.

Renjun is amused and a little confused. Perhaps you and Jaemin got even closer while he wasn’t noticing, but Jisung? When had the two of you met? By the looks of it, Jisung was comfortable enough with you that he wasn’t even minding his manners and greeting you properly. Probably because he was too busy dwindling his thumbs on his controller furiously. 

“Damn, Jisung, you’re really going at it, huh?” you say to him easily.

“Mhmm. I would’ve been doing even better if Jaemin hadn’t interrupted and kicked me out of my own room because you were coming over.”

There is a two second silence before Jisung’s audience of three begins talking at the same time.

“Jisung!” Renjun yelps, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, no, we aren’t going to like… do anything--” you find yourself explaining at the same time, face heating up.

“Jisungieeee!” Jaemin also sings out to scold, yet he grins as he mock-chokes the boy.

“You are so dead.” Renjun gives the back of Jisung’s head a death stare.

“Nooo, our Jisungie means well, don’t you, Jisungie?” Jaemin coos while Jisung dodges his kisses.

Renjun shakes his head and places a hand to your arm to guide you along. “Let’s go.”

“I’ve made food if you crazy kids get hungry!” Jaemin calls after you and it’s the most animated he’s been in a while.

His friends being, well, his friends was probably worth it because Renjun is feeling a lot better as he brings you into his room. It had been a while since he had brought a girl over and looking about, he can tell that his mates did a good job at hastily cleaning it. 

“Damn, Huang Renjun. You’re a clean boy.” you’re saying as you look about. “I thought you’d be the artfully messy type.”

Renjun grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. “We can mess it up together if you’d like.” But Renjun mentally smacks himself in the head as soon as the words leave his mouth because you’ve looked up at him and quickly looked away, muttering something awkwardly.

“I… I didn’t mean that. I just meant with like, paint and, like…” Renjun blows air out of his mouth and then your eyes meet. Before you know it, you both are giggling at each other because the awkwardness is probably making you a bit delirious. 

Renjun watches as you take a deep breath to stop the giggles and turn to start looking around. “Oooh. Mr. Fancypants is a tea connoisseur.” you say as you run your hands over his teabag display box. 

Renjun chuckles “Do you want me to make you some?”

“Sure. Let’s have tea, Mr. Fancypants.” you take a seat on his wheelie chair and your eyes go to the artist’s apron you had bought him that is currently hanging on an easel. You give it a fond smile.

“What flavor would you like?” Renjun asks as he puts the kettle on and sets up two mugs.

“Umm… I don’t know tea. I’m a coffee drinker.” you reply, your fingers tracing over the pictures he had at his desk.

“I’ll make you a simple chamomile, then. I’ve seen you and Jaemin enabling each other’s coffee habits and I don’t approve.” he knots his eyebrows.

“Oh no, no, no. Jaemin is on a different level. I took a sip of his coffee by mistake once and my entire life flashed before my eyes. I don’t know if that boy drinks coffee or straight up cocaine.”

Renjun bites his smile because he’s still holding onto the look of disapproval. “That would explain the random spikes and falls in his energy.” he says as he pours out the water in the mugs and seeps the teabags. “Here you go.” he sets your mug on the desk and takes a seat on his bed.

You take a sip “So, which one is your bunk?”

“Top.” Renjun also wants to make an innuendo but he stops himself because the awkwardness surrounding the fact that you and him are alone in his room has only just subsided with the tea.

“Isn’t the bottom bunk more comfortable?” you muse as you drink. You seem to be enjoying your tea because you haven’t set it aside yet.

“Of course it is. It’s why Jisung has it.” he comments, cocking his eyebrow. “And I sleep here on this bed.” He pats where he’s sat.

You grin as you sip then quickly wipe your chin as some tea spills through your smile. “Where do you keep all your paintings?”

“In the studio. On that top bunk. Behind that door. At my grandma’s house.” he lists off on his fingers.

“Why behind the door? If I had your talent, I’d basically cover every bit of my wall in my art. Like the most egomaniacal artist in the world.” you fantasize, looking up at the ceiling.

Renjun chuckles. “I kinda like my space to be a bit cleaner, you know? Because I’m always around art. It kinda helps with my imagination, having a clean environment. It’s almost like a clean canvas.”

“Interesting.” you’ve said and it sounds like you genuinely mean it. “It’s still a bit sad. All the work you’ve created should have a home. It shouldn't be hidden away behind doors or on top bunks.”

“You can give some of them a home if you’d like. If you have space, I mean.” Renjun gives you a fond look. You haven’t replied but you’ve set your mug down and looked at him with a very tender look in your eyes. You stand up.

“I wanna see your bed.”

Renjun grins. “Be my guest.”

“Ooooh.” you make an excited squeal, almost like you're about to enter Dexter’s Laboratory. You plop yourself on it and bounce up and down, almost as if to check the pliability of it.

“So this is where the magic happens.” you giggle and then Renjun finds your gaze moving to a picture frame on his headboard. “Is that your grandma?”

“It is.” Renjun smiles as he watches you pick your feet up and make yourself comfortable.

“She looks exactly like you.” you say, looking back at him with an affectionate look.

“A lot of people say that. People in school used to think I’m adopted because I looked nothing like my parents.” Renjun scoots back to sit next to you.

“Are you close to your parents?” you ask gently, looking at him.

Renjun looks away. 

The two of you hadn’t had that many deep conversations. And anytime you did, he had found a way around it so that nothing was shared, nothing was learnt. 

But no one had ever asked him that… not in so many words. He finds himself shrugging and responding before he can stop himself. “Nah. They don’t even talk to me. They’ve never really cared.”

“How do you know that, Renjun?” you’re asking him in a very soft voice. The kind of voice that has Renjun sharing more than he wants.

“They pretty much abandoned me very young,” Renjun laughs ironically. “They would fight all the time, you know? Like, they really would go at each other one moment then make up the next moment. They kind of forgot they had a son.” Renjun finds himself saying while his eyes fixate on a loose thread on Jisung’s bedsheet. He realizes he’s warm and comfortable and that’s when he notices that you’ve put an arm around him.

“That must have been so hard, to go through that.” you’re speaking to him so softly and your head and your body is angled towards him, giving him all your attention while Renjun talks into the abyss. 

“They were just like… kinda dysfunctional, you know? They fought like crazy and I had to hide away so I wouldn’t hear them. And then the next day, they’d be in each other’s arms like nothing happened. They would pretend like everything was all right. Like the trauma they gave me meant nothing.”

You’re not speaking anymore, only listening. Your hand around him has started to gently stroke his arm. Your other hand softly combs through his hair.

“It was such a vicious cycle and they wouldn’t stop. I think they were kinda addicted to it. They would’ve been happy living like that with each other if it weren’t for me.” He had never shared so much with anyone. But now that he had started, it was difficult to stop.

“Renjun…” you say empathetically and pull him into you. Renjun pauses for a moment, but decides to give in. What did it matter, anyway? He rests his head on your shoulder.

“If it weren’t for my grandma, I wouldn’t even be alive, you know? She saved me from all of that and took me in. She raised me. It wasn’t even her responsibility, but she raised me.”

You are holding him to you and soothingly stroking his hair when you say “Then I think your grandma is the luckiest person in this world. Because she got to see you grow up to be such a good man.”

Renjun feels a lump in his throat grow and before he knows it, there are tears stinging in his eyes. You turn your head and press a kiss into his temple and slowly rock him. It was odd, being here like this, because Renjun realizes that this was the first time you had kissed him. But more than anything else, it was the first time someone had held him like this. 

The last time he remembered being held was probably when he was a child, and it had been his grandma. No one since had held him in their arms to listen to him, to comfort him, to love him without any conditions. No one had tried to take his pain away without wanting something in return. The thought puts more tears in his eyes and he finds himself leaning his weight into you. 

He allows you to hold him and comfort him and coo at him. You’re speaking to him gently but Renjun isn’t hearing your words. He’s only concentrating on the soothing sound of your voice and how melodic it is. He liked hearing you talk. He’s concentrating on how you’re rocking him, and how the movement is slowly lulling him. He liked how warm and soft you were and how protective your arms were. He liked the smell of chamomile on your breath. Had you enjoyed chamomile? He thought you had. Maybe you would’ve enjoyed a different flavor more. Renjun decides he should make you an Earl Grey next time; it would probably be better suited to your caffeine tastes. Maybe you wouldn’t like Earl Grey as much either, but it would be nice to discover that bit about you. He’d make you try all the flavors till he learnt which one your favorite was. 

“How come I never saw your cat?” He asks sleepily after you’ve been quiet for a while.

“Hmm?” you ask, confused.

“Your cat. Galbi. How come I didn’t see him when I came over?” Renjun can feel your smile against his temple.

“Oh. Yeri had dropped him over at the vet’s that day. Do you want to meet him?” you ask him.

“Yeah, it would be nice to meet him.” Renjun says and brings an arm up to cuddle closer into you.

“Okay. Next time you come over, you can meet him… shoulder gangster Renjun.” you’re only whispering at him now as you tease him.

“Mmm.” is the only reply Renjun can manage as he chuckles lazily. He didn’t even feel like killing Donghyuck for telling you about that because he feels so good like this, in your arms. Renjun hasn’t even noticed that you’ve laid him down till he realizes how horizontal he is.

It felt nice. Being held by someone, being protected by someone, being comforted by someone. Your hands haven’t stopped soothing him for a single moment ever since they started. Renjun hadn’t even noticed that you’d put the covers on him. Or that you were kissing the top of his head till he feels the warmth. It all felt so nice. He barely registers that your shirt is wet from his tears. All he feels are the relaxing patterns you’re drawing onto his skin. It’s the last thing he feels as he drifts off. And though you're gone in the morning, Renjun can swear this is the most sound sleep he's slept in many nights. He feels a thousand times lighter, like someone had lifted a heavy weight off of his chest and he was finally breathing fully. 

He smiles as he grabs his phone and sees your name right on the top of his notification list. He reads your message:

‘Hey, shoulder gangster. Sorry I left without telling you but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I wanted to ask you something AND YOU CAN TOTALLY SAY NO. But my brother’s hosting a spring art festival of some sort at my parent’s house this weekend. A lot of his artist friends from his company will be there. Do you maybe wanna come with me?’

And there it was. 

Yes, it was funny how quickly people form habits without really meaning to. And in his new habit, Renjun had forgotten the real reason he was with you in the first place. 

Eyes on the fucking prize, Renjun thinks as his reality comes crashing back on him.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

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

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession. 

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N���s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Mother!MC with Demon Brothers + Luke Headcanons

Scenario: Instead of a younger human, the Devildom welcomes a mother (with a 3-year old son in tow) into the exchange program. 

intro + headcanons about how the brothers would interact with her 

no romance… just uwu

bonus how the brothers would treat the son (why son? Perhaps because I too want a son)

Female reader!! (MC is referred to as she in this post) 

bonus character: Luke :3c

I JUST WANT THEM TO FEEL LOVED OK

Lucifer wasn’t prone to believe in fate-- and the beginnings of the exchange program was just another reason why he did not. He let the breeze-- the wind pick a human applicant for him; and if he had gone through every application (though he wasn't completely sure he'd be sane by the end of it all) maybe this situation wouldn't have happened. 

"What do you mean you can't be one of our exchange students?" Diavolo inquired, more curious than anything, an amused smile gracing his lips.

"I have a son," she said hesitantly. And there he was, peering around at the assembly room in his mother's arms that were wrapped protectively around him.

A mother and her human child, Lucifer thought blearily. One could only imagine what would happen if both of them remained here. (Which is why he never cut corners in anything he ever did ever because the one time he does, things go to shit. Damn Diavolo for enabling him.)

--

Lucifer

disgruntled by the adjustments made to accommodate a human child and his mother; mf will he ever rest

probably has to worry about babysitting duties delegated to his brothers 

however, pleasantly surprised by MC's calm demeanor and reliable personality; finally another competent person in the house he doesn't have to really pick up after

...actually adores her and her son

accidentally does things to please her without really realizing it and hates the slight disappointment or worry he sees when he goes through sleepless nights or lashes out from anger

doesn't remember the last time he's been chastised, but he's as embarrassed as he can be when she fusses over him

the hell coffee she makes for him every morning and the snacks she brings during his breaks makes him lowkey wanna cry-- he doesn’t know how to deal with a selfless, unconditional love

is used to being a single parent ngl so taking care of her son is kinda… easy especially if the son is compliant

finds himself pressing a kiss to his forehead absently and catches himself only after he's done it (bonus points if Barbatos takes a pic of it and sends it into their trio gc) 

“Barbatos, please delete this picture.”

“Oh, are you sure about that?”

“................”

ah he's attached, and so are his brothers, which kind of perturbed him a little but he’s kind of in the same boat after a short week or so

(if there was one brother who had a chance of harboring feelings for a mother mc, it’d be Luciiiiiiii uwuwuwuuwuuw; what can I say? He can’t resist the milf) 

eventually, he opens up to her about the war-- because if there was any human he’d trust with his secrets, it would be MC

Mammon

he's crying 

he doesn't think anyone has ever talked or held him as gently as MC

similar to the game, absolutely adores her and can't even lie about it

ok jk he's still a tsundere, but blushes every time MC looks at him with a knowing look because he can't lie convincingly enough that no, the head pats dont feel nice and no, he's just eating the lunch she made because it'll be a waste otherwise, ok?!

Her son definitely thinks he’s related to Mammon

Definitely the first one to accidentally call her “mom” 

But hey don’t blame him-- he’s weak to how MC looks at him endearingly as she brushes hair out of his face motherly, like he can do no wrong 

Nothing can compare to how Mammon feels when MC tells him she’s proud of him

feels legit guilty when she calls him out on his habits of stealing things to the point he remembers her voice when he tries to do it again-- basically his conscience ngl

she's like a cold hand to his feverish forehead, a cooling balm to the burn on his hand

when she defends him from his brother's insults, swears he'll protect her and her son 

on that note, adores her son too and her son adores mammon!

surprisingly (or not) good with kids and treats them well; plays with them, very lively and dynamic

takes babysitting pretty seriously-- makes him consider the fact that he might actually want to be a father in the future if possible

not that he doesn’t have reckless endeavors with her son... they just end up okay so no one is none the wiser until it shows up on someone’s devilgram or spoken about through Barbatos/Diavolo

Leviathan

Honestly doesn’t know how to to react 

A little miffed tbh that he finds it so easy to talk to her about…. Everything??? 

When he enlisted her (and her son) to get his money back from Mammon, did he expect to rant to her about all his animes and gush about his figurines to her because that was one of the first time someone’s allowed him to indulge in his hobbies and listen patiently?

No, and now he’s crying 

And the fact she gently addresses his self-deprecating comments and urges him to see how she sees him (smart, witty, forgiving)---

Will probably do anything for MC and anything she says at this point; the pact is just a formality LOL

Listens to her and genuinely thinks the things she does for him is in his best interest 

Had a hard time knowing how to deal with her son for a while, simply because he doesn’t know what he could do to actually entertain the child

Then finds out he could literally put up TSL or any of his favorite animes and the kid will watch it-- and ABSORB

Levi might as well be the kid’s best friend at this point-- dubbs him ‘Henry’-- which is really the greatest compliment MC thinks her son can get from him

Honestly volunteers to babysit him and proceeds to spoil him rotten

Satan

Slightly annoyed at how motherly she is at the beginning-- he takes her care and actions as if she treats him like a child

Finds it frightening how soothed he feels when he’s around her

There’s something about an older, calming presence that saps the anger from him and makes him feel like he can be himself around MC

Surprisingly the second person to accidentally call MC by “mom” probably an hour after he makes fun of Mammon for doing it (lol karma)

isn't one to seek out her attention like with levi, mammon, or asmo but is pleased whenever he does have time to spend with her because she always seems to have insight on everything and a strange wisdom that all mothers apparently do

has a lot of late night talks with her about her life, her career, what it's like having a child

often finds himself asking her for advice, and even if she doesn't have the answer, he always comes out of it thoughtful and clear minded 

always willing to take care of her son; delights in reading him his favorite books and enacting the exciting scenes 

always treats him like an adult to the point that their conversations are really funny to listen to

"So would you say the author's intent of the blue door was to convey the agony of grief?"

"I like the color blue."

"As did the protagonist; hm, you bring up a good point."

the son is Satan's partner in crime against Lucifer 

"It's better if we do this, isn't that right?"

"Yeah!" MC’s child says, happily chewing on his favorite snack that Satan always gives to him and honestly not caring about the conversation at hand at all

"See? He agrees with me!”

And Lucifer just sighs bc he always loses in these arguments and Satan is unbearably smug

Asmodeus

similar to Satan, finds her presence in Devildom to be very pleasant and calming

she never seems to be disapproving of his past times, and Asmo is endeared by the way she never fails to say "stay safe" or "have fun!" or even "do you want me to leave the front lights for when you come back?"

the little motherly ways in which she shows she cares makes Asmo adore her

loves taking her shopping; always has a good time just gossiping, trying new clothes, or having a girls night out with self careeeee

when her son tags along, loves to have him dress up too or try on make up and it's too adorable NOT to post on devilgram

pretty sure MC's son has trended on devilgram before-- but that was the first and last time because Lucifer yelled at him for advertising the fact there was a human child in Devildom

which Asmo thinks is silly because he's pretty sure the caption under the selfie of the three of them ("So adorbs! I've only had MC's son for a day, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in Devildom and then myself. Teehee!") would have deterred any demon from laying a finger on him

When Asmo has him for babysitting duties, always loves to bathe him and play with bubbles, morphing his hair into an afro or an equally fashionable hairdo

actually very attentive to the child!!

Beelzebub

Not much changes from how Beel treats MC, but does view her actions in a more motherly manner 

I think one thing that would change is that-- considering MC is a mother of her own child, is actually very protective of the brothers and sensitive to their changes in moods

When Lucifer gets angry at Beel and Luke, MC is furious and furiously protective, not yielding one bit or hesitating to put herself in front of them because of her instincts-- Beel has never admired her more 

Physical strength has always something he can easily understand, but it is the strength of wills and of bravery that surprises him every time 

After Mammon and Satan accidentally calls you “mom” Beelzebub has no qualms with calling you by mom either-- I mean, what’s the shame in that? Everyone already thinks of you as their mother-figure anyways

MC helps him deal with the loss of his sister

With MC’s child… You know that one meme with the two ways dad deals with kids: one is softly kissing his child on the forehead as he sleeps and the other is carrying his kid by the leg with one arm

Both of them is Beel 

carries the kid around in the weirdest ways sometimes, including on his head, in one hand like he's holding a trophy, upside down (dw the kid thinks it's funny)

main transport is on his shoulders though; thinks it's kinda cute how the kid puts his arms around his head

wouldn't love anything more but to nap with him, but Beel is afraid of hurting him when he sleeps

Is the softest with MC’s son--- he’s not used to being the older brother, so he takes this responsibility kind of seriously 

Always makes sure the food that MC’s son eats is appropriate so he tastes/tries it first… and sometimes ends up eating all of it, but he always manages to succeed in feeding the kid so it’s all good

Belphegor

Wants to hate MC so badly the first time they meet when he’s in the attic

He’s supposed to HATE humans, damn it-- why the hell is MC trying to be so motherly and understanding, huh?? How dare she make him guilty after he lied to her like wlkjaflksjfkjasdlfj

Out of all of them, seeks MC the least; whether it’s from guilt or the fact that her presence reminds him of the things and resentment he used to hold against her 

Takes a little more cajoling from MC to talk to her and explain how he’s feeling so they can move past it

He’d rather die than let anyone else know that he teared up when they talked about Lilith and how he felt about everything; urges Belphie to talk to Lucifer and seek reconciliation with him individually (because it may be a family problem, but the feud was between the two of them, don’t you think?)

Finally gets the redemption arc he deserves and feels a lot lighter knowing that everything that has happened is now in the open and he’s ready to start healing 

In avoiding MC after the whole debacle, Belphie ends up spending more time with her son because he thinks Belphie is fascinating and Belphie has no clue why 

Similarly to Satan, treats the kid like he would anyone else but does find it amusing if the kid chases after his tail like a cat

Always ends up napping with him whenever MC’s son takes a nap-- after all, what’s easier than looking after a kid if you’re BOTH asleep?

Keeps an eye on him by putting a hand on his torso as they nap together

Uses MC’s son as an excuse to not do something, especially when Lucifer tells him to do something he doesn’t like to do

Honestly the son is a part of his arsenal-- he knows how weak everyone is for this kid (and so is he tbh but more lowkey) so cute pics of him is like… currency (Mammon WISHES he thought of this first) 

Bonus:

Luke

MC practically adopts him the moment she lays eyes on him-- how could she not? Luke may as well be her other son

Luke can’t say no, especially after she saves him from Lucifer

Definitely calls her mom by accident and the brothers tease him-- only for him to retort back that “don’t you ALL call her by mom?” and they shut up lol

Simeon still gets to tease Luke though heheh 

Really really really tries hard not to refer to MC as mom, but it slips out sometimes and no one even bats an eye 

Baking together is such a family bonding moment

Treats MC’s son most like his younger brother almost automatically and makes sure he doesn’t get into any trouble while he’s taking care of him (though he does anyways) 

Kind of likes the responsibility of babysitting MC’s son; makes him feel trusted

(MC takes the cutest pics of them together when they fall asleep; starts thinking about maybe having another child wouldn’t be so bad)

[jamespotterthefirst]

Everything I Wanted (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,700 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: After all this time, her social media posts have a way of captivating him...until he turns the tables on her.  Part 3 of Lovely and Ocean Eyes.

________________ Ethan walked down the corridor on a seemingly normal workday, far too aware that his steps were lighter and the smile he fought so hard to conceal made its appearance more often than not. For the sake of his reputation, he schooled his features into his usual unwelcoming and severe expression, though part of him worried that he was fooling exactly no one. 

Perhaps his face betrayed the way his pulse picked up pleasantly at the memory of the shy smile she offered him every time they crossed paths. The simple gesture was enough to brighten his mood, no matter how stressful his day. Somewhere down the line, Ethan had surrendered to the effortless way Dr. Lilac Allende drove him to distraction.  

His good mood quickly soured, however, when he walked past the locker room on the third floor. Typically, he studiously blocked out all the mindless conversations that drifted out into the hall, but a particular name caught his ear.

“Damn,” a tall, burly intern was saying as he glanced at his phone. “I knew Dr. Allende was hot but.. just wow.”

His friend closed the locker door and walked over to glance at the screen, nodding in approval. “What's her deal? She single?” 

The first intern scoffed, almost derisively. “Thinking of asking her out, Reyes?” 

Reyes looked unabashed, maintaining an easy grin that was almost arrogant. It made Ethan want to punch it right off his face. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Is she still with Lahela? They were a thing a while back, I think?” 

Ethan had the mad urge to step in and correct the false statement, but he abstained. The two morons before him had no right to Lilac's personal life. 

Reyes stared at the phone screen again and gave a low whistle. “Her Pictagram is a work of art. The things I'd do–” 

“The things you're going to do, Dr. Reyes, are your actual job duties,” Ethan said through girt teeth, stepping into the room. 

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance or the downright murderous glare the older doctor was sending their way, but the pair of interns fumbled, the first one almost dropping the phone. By the time they straightened up to face Ethan, they looked far too rigid, uncomfortable, and downright terrified. The verbal lashing he unleashed on them was one for the books. In the end, there was no trace of arrogant smirks as both interns walked away, pale and with the extra workload Ethan assigned. 

Finally alone, he exhaled a sharp, steadying breath. At least there were a few guarantees in life, even if things had changed: he could still reduce grown men to tears and these damn interns were going to drive him to an early grave. 

Considerably calmer, Ethan produced his phone from his pocket and opened the too familiar Pictagram page. One glance at her latest picture and the two idiots' reactions made sense, even if they were still not justified.

Fucking hell. 

Just like his moronic predecessors, Ethan almost dropped his phone, stifling a cough. Any trace of gentlemanly thoughts vanished as his eyes took in her bare shoulder, exposed so intentionally and coyly. All he could think about was running his lips along the curve of it, his fingers slowly tugging the black robe lower until it pooled on his floor. 

Before his primal mind could add his teeth and the moans she'd reward him with to this fantasy, his eyes fell on the caption. 

Stay? 

Ethan could hardly fight back the grin the single word inspired. The previous morning, as she had stopped by his office to use his coffee machine, he pointed out how useless Pictagram was. Lilac was quick to remind him that he seemed to be enjoying it, referencing the reaction he'd had to her previous posts. Determined to save face, Ethan had blurted that he might even delete his account.

A smug smile over her shoulder had been her reply along with a sultry promise. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

She had accomplished just that along with taking root in his every thought. The need to see her became so acute, that he sought her out in every hallway he turned into. Finally, he found her in one of the break rooms, laughing and chatting with her intern, Dr. Ortega. 

 “This coffee machine is the worst,” he heard Ortega complain. She rattled the cup as though the action would force it to hurry. “I can't believe I'm going to be late because of shit coffee.”

Lilac laughed. “Shit coffee is better than no coffee.” 

“Spoken like someone who has a mysterious coffee source.” 

With another laugh, Lilac mimed zipping her lips shut. Dr. Ortega snorted with laughter, which was a rare enough sight. 

“At least rounds are not with Dr. Ramsey this morning,” Ortega continued as she sniffed disapprovingly at her cup. “I'd be dead meat for being even two minutes behind.”

“And that's considering the guy's mellowed out in the past few months,” a nurse chimed in from his place at the loveseat. “He was far grumpier before. Something or someone is putting that man in a good mood every night.”

Ethan felt his neck flare up, his eyes solely on Lilac, looking as lovely as ever and utterly unfazed. 

“That poor soul,” Lilac commented so convincingly, Ethan almost believed it. “Whoever that is.”

The nurse had no reaction, invested in his newspaper as he was and Ortega threw a hesitant smile at Lilac. 

“I always kind of thought you two had a thing,” she confessed. 

Lilac did not even react, taking a sip of her to-go cup. “Because I'm his so-called favorite?” When Esme nodded, Lilac shrugged. “Being on his radar comes with its cons.”

At this, Ortega nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he's harder on you, for sure.”

That was his cue. With absolutely no preamble, he marched into the breakroom, startling the three occupants with his mere presence. 

“Allende, if you are done with your morning gossip session, I'd appreciate you getting me those labs I asked for.”

Lilac pushed herself off the counter at once. “Yes, doctor.” 

They stared at one another, neither betraying a single emotion. 

“Now. It's not like lives depend on it or anything.”

Ortega shot Lilac a sympathetic look, no doubt reconsidering her previous thoughts of their involvement. Without another word, Lilac followed Ethan out of the break room. Once they were alone in a deserted hallway, Lilac raised a brow at him. 

“You didn't ask for any labs,” she said at the same time Ethan blurted out, “'That poor soul'?”

Lilac laughed and he joined her with a chuckle soon after, their bodies comfortably gravitating closer to each other. His hands throbbed with the raw, poignant need to touch her and the blinding disappointment of being unable to. The way Ethan longingly looked at her then, drinking in every one of her beautiful features, he imagined he looked like some yearning nineteenth century gentleman straight out of an Austen novel. 

“Mine was more believable,” she pointed out, that witty, playful challenge in her eyes. An Elizabeth Bennet to his hopeless and bewitched Darcy. 

“Not remotely,” he returned without missing a beat. “No one would deem the person having sex with me every night as 'poor.'”

“They would when said person could barely walk the next day.”

That made Ethan pause, the bravado slipping as his eyes fell on her rosy lips. His breath caught audibly at his throat. 

They were standing so close together now, eyes locked on each other with palpable magnetism. If anyone walked by they would be found out without a doubt. Even more so if Ethan gave into the burning urge to kiss her right there and then. 

Lilac gave him a coquettish smirk. “Did you like my post?” 

Ethan found his voice again. “It was…”

There was no appropriate word to describe the delicious, sinful perfection of it. 

“Nice?” she teased. 

“Dr. Reyes and his idiot friend definitely thought so.”

Lilac snorted. “That explains the DM that sits unopened in my inbox. Jealous?” 

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. They're not the ones who have me in their bed every night.” 

Ethan almost stuttered like an imbecile. He fought back all indecent thoughts and returned, “You forget I have you against multiple different surfaces, Rookie.”

She paused briefly, eyes dark as they traveled down his body and back to his eyes again.

Fuck, she had him. He knew the look too well. 

“Or against no surface at all, as you proved on your birthday.” 

Ethan cursed. 

Everything in her expression suggested that she fancied herself the victor of their Pictagram debate. Matching her smug smirk with a dashing smile of his own, he decided then to give her a taste of her own medicine.

________________________

Ethan, ever the prophet, had predicted the board meeting they were both required to attend would be pointless. 

He had been right, of course. They both sat in the boardroom forty minutes into it, listening to Dr. Cyrus drone on endlessly about something that had little to do with patient care. Listening was a generous term because Lilac remained focused on her laptop, diligently updating patient files. Ethan, sitting across from her, was doing much of the same, the glare of his screen reflecting on his glasses. 

Soon, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled her away from her concentration. Her heart leaped when she saw it was a notification alerting to his latest Pictagram post. Confused, Lilac glanced up at him but he was too invested in his work to notice. 

After ensuring no one was paying her any mind, she opened the app and regretted it at once. 

One quick glance at artfully sculpted muscles and Lilac was reduced to a coughing mess. Dr. Cyrus stopped mid sentence to glare at her. Everyone else in the room followed suit to stare. 

“Dr. Allende, are you alright?” Naveen asked with concern. 

Ethan wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, his lips quirking ever so slightly, his fingers brushing hers. After a quick sip, she mumbled, “I'm fine. Sorry.”

Convinced, they resumed the meeting. 

Lilac, meanwhile, attempted to catch Ethan's eye to throw him a glare, but he remained laser focused on his screen. Having no other alternative, she returned her attention to the picture. Soon, she was texting him. 

Your one follower approves. 

Her phone dinged almost immediately after with his reply. Her pulse spiked with excitement, which was ridiculous because she slept with the man every day. 

I am aware. We all saw. 

Cheeky bastard. 

That was a low blow, Ramsey. And with a picture I took too. 

He almost smiled when he read that. 

Pay attention, Rookie. 

She bit her lip, glancing up at him. Ethan was the perfect picture of professionalism, his stoic expression betraying nothing as he worked. Her eyes returned to the picture, her cheeks flushing. 

Oh, I am. 

To the meeting. 

Oh. Dr. Cyrus has my undivided but unwilling attention. 

Liar, he returned at once. For a man who claimed to hate texting, he was a master at sending them without anyone's notice. 

I can tell because you actually look interested in what you're doing. 

Lilac almost laughed out loud at that. She quickly turned her head away from the front of the table to avoid suspicion. 

I am studiously taking notes. 

Unless you're jotting down all of Cyrus's brown-nosing remarks to Naveen, I highly doubt that. 

This time, a small squeak of laughter escaped her. Luckily for her, she was able to mask it perfectly with a dainty cough. No one at the table gave her a second glance, except for Ethan. Handsome as ever, his mouth quirked ever so slightly. 

I don't need to take notes on that, she replied. I already know how to get on my boss's good side. 

She watched as Ethan imperceptibly read her text, having no visible reaction. 

Time to go in for the kill. 

And the best side to get on is under him. 

This time, it was Ethan who sputtered slightly and coughed. A furious blush started to color his neck and ears in a way that was entirely too satisfying. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't finished yet. 

Although he actually enjoys me on top of him too. 

Those piercing blue eyes found hers instantly, so dark and smoldering that she was struck motionless for a second. A familiar, molten heat pooled in her belly as Ethan's lustful gaze remained on her, unwavering. The longer they stared at each other, magnetized, the more evident it became that he would take her right there and then if it weren't for the company surrounding them. 

When the meeting was adjourned for a break twenty minutes later, Lilac was assured that her texts had the intended effect. The tall, hard body of her boyfriend pressed hers flush against the door of his office the second it closed. A second after that, his full lips hungrily kissed her neck, his powerful hands gripping handfuls of her hips. 

“You're determined to kill me,” he muttered darkly against her skin. 

“But what a way to go,” she said in a whisper that gave way to a moan at the last word. 

He agreed in the form of a husky groan that resonated deliciously against her throat. With almost lazy effort, he turned her body to face the door, strong hands guiding her backside to press urgently against him. 

“The way you tease me, Lilac,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending a powerful shiver through her. His hips began guiding her toward the nearest table with ease, his fingers slowly skimming their way up her thighs and under her skirt. 

“You like it,” she challenged breathlessly. 

Ethan hummed against her shoulder, pulling her blouse down in a perfect rendition of her post. 

“It's torture.” Another searing kiss. “Seeing the way you look at me and not being able to take you against the nearest wall.”

Lilac had a witty response ready, but at that exact moment, his thumbs hooked around the lacy fabric of her underwear. 

“Are these for me?” His voice was nothing more than gravel. Lilac's legs quivered, every sense proudly dominated by him. 

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering closed in a heady rush. He had her bent over the table, her skirt bunching to indecent heights around her thighs. 

Without another word, he removed the garment skillfully, sliding it slowly down her legs and bunching it in his fist. Lilac pressed herself further against him, aching painfully for him. 

“Use them to tie me up,” she suggested in a ragged whisper. 

Ethan cursed. 

His hips jerked against hers, sliding the thick, hard column of his body against her. Lilac was so overcome with maddening need that her arms almost gave out from balancing her on the table. 

She never found out if Ethan was delirious enough to take her whispered advice because both of their pagers went off with infuriating insistence.

 “The meeting from hell that never ends,” he groaned. “Break is over.”

Lilac straightened against his chest, smirking when he made no movement to let her go. “To be continued?” 

Ethan leaned in to kiss her neck. “Your bed or mine?” 

Lilac swiveled in his hold, facing him with a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Doesn't matter as long as it's you next to me.”

He matched her smile with an unfairly charming one of his own. 

Though they were needed at the Board meeting, they stole another minute together in each other's arms. Lilac studied his handsome face briefly, feeling her heart restart as it often did when she realized he was finally hers. Perhaps he was hers in secret for the time being but he was hers nonetheless. The thought that after all the strife and hardship, she still found herself where she belonged, in his arms, made her smile grow wider. 

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

“I love you,” she told him, not for the first time. 

It was his turn to give her a smile so incandescent that it stole her breath. “That's a relief,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Given that I am madly and desperately in love with you, Rookie.”

_____________

Author’s Note: Are we okay after those two new OH chapters?

I’m not! I have some ideas for future fics but we’ll see if the writing gods are in my favor. 

Thank you for reading this senselessness. I love you for it.

-Bree

_______________

Please let me know if I need to add/remove you. You might have asked me already but I can barely keep track of my life atm. Sorry!

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@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |  @angela8756

[ikingsley]

Ina x MC: My Star

Ina x MC: My Star

Summary: Ina and Luna take their relationship to the next level.

Warnings: Fluff! So much fluff.

Tag: @samanthadalton @domakir @kulaykape @hellyeah90sbaby @dopeyouth @kwaj05 @thedaft1​ @swimmingshoebakerydreamer @kaitlynliaofanxx (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)​

Author’s Notes: Events after the gala in QB Ch 16. Unfortunately, I have been busy with school and work, but I’ve still been writing. I’ve been working on a new series, one that tells about Ina and Luna’s future together. Here’s the start to their future relationship.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

May 3 @5:42 PM

Ina: Hey. I have a little something for you. Do you want to swing by my place and pick it up? Maybe stay for dinner too?

Luna picked up her phone, reading the message. They had been together officially for a few months now, but the gala had in a way halted their progress. It’d been a few weeks since Ina and Luna had truly been together for a date. Conversations through texts and FaceTime calls that lasted well into the night did occur frequently, but nothing of the romance the two had grown used to. Neither one knew how to approach the delicate situation they found themselves in. 

Luna: I’ll be there.

Luna walked quickly to her dorm, grabbing a hoodie. She trudged over to Ina’s apartment and waited patiently on the other side of the door. Ina opened it and gave her that million-dollar smile. 

“Hey,” Luna breathed out, her breath hitching after seeing Ina physically after weeks.

“Luna. You’re looking as radiant as ever. Come inside.”

Ina’s glance to the outside world did not go unnoticed. It was if she was searching for someone watching her. Not finding anyone who caught her attention, Ina closed the door and bolted it as she welcomed Luna inside.

“You know, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You finished your first year at Belvoire. I think that deserves some celebration.”

Luna looked around, taking in Ina’s apartment once more. Then she smelled it.  She looked around the kitchen and saw the oven light on.

“Is Ina ‘I-Burned-Pasta’ Kingsley cooking?”

“Well, attempting to. I have some chicken in there.”

“Color me impressed. Does that chicken happen to be for me?”

“No,” Ina chimed in, turning around to attend to her food. “It’s for a twin sister you never knew you had that I also happen to be going out with.”

Luna only rolled her eyes at Ina in reaction, but reached forwards to hug her from behind.

“I missed you,” Luna whispered into Ina’s ear.

Ina spun Luna around and stared intensely into her eyes. “And I, you. Our FaceTimes weren’t enough for me. I don’t know what happens next with my future at Belvoire, but I know I want my future with you.”

Ina pressed a kiss against Luna’s temple. The timer went off and Ina pulled the chicken out of the oven.

“Me too. I-” Luna stopped.

Ina stopped and swiveled around waiting to hear those three words. “I…what?” Ina questioned. And how she longed to hear those words uttered from Luna’s mouth. Ina heard them frequently from Lilian and Charlotte, but she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d heard it from a partner. Excluding Luna, it’d been so long since she’d felt that kind of intimacy.

“I…I wonder what we have to accompany this chicken!” Luna diverted.

“Oh. I forgot to tell you. I have some broccoli in there too. Maybe I have some…wait- this went bad.” Ina dumped the rotten spinach in the trash. “Yeah, only broccoli.”

“That’s perfect.”

Soon, Ina placed a full plate in front of Luna and settled beside her. They took their first bite and surprised was only one way to describe the taste.

“This is uh…interes-” Luna remarked as she politely forced herself to swallow a portion of the food.

“You don’t need to-”

“Thanks.” Luna ejected what was left of the chicken from her mouth like it were a toxin.

“So, pizza?” Ina said and sputtered out the chicken. It was bone dry and there was too much seasoning of all sorts. Too many things had been combined.

“Please. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s the thought that counts, no?”

“You’re improving every time I see you cook, so let’s call it progress,” Luna smiled as she patted Ina’s shoulder. She stood up to grab her phone and order pizza.

Ina sighed and flopped on the couch. She so desperately wanted this night to go well. She herself was nervous. Ina had spent the previous nights tossing and turning. It finally had dawned on her that she was in love with Luna. Ever since she met her she’d slowly been falling more and more under Luna’s spell. Now she was completely enraptured by her. The simple facial features that morphed into an infectious smile. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed at Ina’s horrible jokes and witty banter. The way Luna caressed her face as she swept her into a kiss. Everything had been coming together.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Luna asked while she sat down next to Ina indicating she had just gotten off the phone for pizza delivery.

“Just...contemplating everything surrounding us. I’ve come to understand what’s truly important to me, which ultimately boils down to Lil, Charlotte and you of course. I don’t dislike my job, but maybe this is an opportunity for me to try and search for a more research-based career rather than actively teaching.”

Ina stood up, grabbing a small, elegantly wrapped rectangular box.

“I care for you too, Ina,” Luna smiled. “You so did not wrap this by the way.”

“Hey! I’ve gotten better at gift wrapping.”

“Not this good-”

“Oh hush, you. Open it.”

Luna meticulously pulled off the wrapping. Inside was a small framed poster. The poster had a big circle right in its center with some stars in it.

“Ina, this is beautiful. Is this-?”

“The stars on the day we met.”

“I don’t know what to say, babe. It’s...it’s perfect. I love you. I mean, I love it! Yeah! I love it.”

The silence that followed was highly drawn out. Both - who could talk a mile a minute when they were excited or passionately ranting - were dead silent. Ina replayed the moment in her head over and over. Had she heard right?

Luna was more bewildered with herself. She’d been too used to toxic, quickly-ending high school relationships. But as more time passed since she’d let the cat out of the bag, the more she realized that this somewhat spur-of-the-moment confession had more truth in it than anything she’d ever said before. She did love Ina. She loved the way Ina would tell her about her day, getting particularly loud during both the best and worst parts of the day. She loved the way Ina made her laugh or actually kept up with her nerdy discussions. She loved the way Ina would leave anything she was doing if Luna needed something. She loved the way Ina cared for Luna during her stressful finals and tended to her every need. She loved the way Ina balanced her so well. 

But deep down, Luna was scared. Scared of being hurt again. Scared of loving someone who only loved her if she acted in a certain way. But that someone wasn’t Ina. She’d found more of herself through Ina. And she’d found something she deserved in a relationship - a mutual respect.

“Can I crash here? I’m pretty tired.”

“Yes, but Luna...”

“Good night!”

“Wait-”

Ina’s urgency made Luna swivel around and she finally met Ina’s eyes. They were full of admiration, love, happiness.

“Did you mean it, Luna?”

“Mean...what?”

“You know.”

“Well, words are a tricky thing. After all, there’s a whole branch of anthropology that focuses on linguistics. It’s very complex!”

Ina hummed softly. “Yes, well...good night.” Ina pressed a chaste kiss on Luna’s forehead and Luna began to turn around to the bedroom. “I love you, Lu.”

Again, Luna stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“I love you, Garcia,” she grinned. “Come here.”

Luna ran towards Ina as she swept her in her arms. Luna jumped into Ina pressing her lips against Ina’s. Ina carried Luna’s small frame and paraded her around the apartment, often breaking their kiss with more admissions of love.

“I love you, Ina. With all my heart. You know pieces of my past and so I was scared to say it. I know we haven’t officially been together for long, but what I feel for you, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. I am...deeply in love with you, however scary it may seem.”

“Read the caption under the stars, my love.”

Quietly, Luna descended from Ina’s arms and picked up the poster she’d just been gifted. Under the stars was a small quote. 

I love you, what star do you live on? - Conrad Aiken 

Ina Kingsley and Luna Garcia

The Day the Stars Aligned. September 6, 2020 | 4 AM | Dreams Diner, New York 

“I love you so much you big nerd,” Luna beamed and wiped away the tears that began forming at the corner of her eyes. “I love you, Ina Kingsley.”

“Sol.”

“Sun? My name, Luna, means moon in Spanish. But I guess I’m your sun too.”

“You are. By the way, I know that, Lu.” Luna gave her a ‘really? are you sure about that’ look. “I am fluent in Spanish thank you very much! I learned it before English!”

“As did I,” Luna retorted.

“Right, well. My middle name. It’s Sol.”

~

A few months later...

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Ina laughed.

“Honestly, same.”

“What? You basically coerced me into coming!” Ina exclaimed. “I thought we were going to the museum.”

“We will after if you’re up to it. And you would’ve come regardless. You love me too much.”

“Touché.”

“Such a little simp.”

“And?”

“No, nothing,” Luna said quickly. She proceeded to whisper simp once again under her breath.

A strong, tatted man opened the dark curtains, letting the establishment soak in the sunlight.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“We’re here for tattoos!” Luna said happily.

“Yes, well, we are at a tattoo parlor,” Ina retorted.

“Sorry. Don’t mind her. She’s just grumpy all the time.”

Ina made a face at Luna, her brows furrowed in frustration. Just through that look, Luna knew not to pester Ina once more. She gave her a ‘you’re in trouble when we get home’ look.

“You both are willingly getting tattoos?” the man asked. It was definitely more directed towards Ina.

Bashfully, Ina nodded. Never in a million years did she think she’d do this. A tattoo. Jesus Christ. Luna was right. If she pulled out a Merriam-Webster dictionary, she knew she’d find a full page photo of herself next to the word simp - a word they’d specifically added just for her.

“What are you guys looking for? Something small, something big? Something plain, something colorful?”

Who was this man? Dr. Seuss’s son? Ina thought to herself.

“Just something small. Maybe on my hip or something,” Luna answered for the both of them as Ina nodded in agreement.

As fun as this little bonding activity was, both women were professionals. Nothing could be too blatantly obvious. Potentially hypothetically, Ina couldn’t have her students ask her about her new tattoo rather than anthropology.

“Do you guys have any designs you want me to copy?” the man asked as he put on gloves.

“Umm...I didn’t have anything in specific in mind. Maybe her name or something that reminds me of her? A rose maybe?” Luna began rambling as her thoughts took over.

The two women stood aside in silence, pondering what they would get. It was unlike them - they were always prepared for everything.

“Hey, Luna,” Ina turned to face her partner. “Why don’t we get a sun and moon?”

“Aww, Ina,” she smiled.

Goddamn those heart eyes, Ina thought.

“Okay, why don’t you get a moon and I’ll get a sun,” Luna said. “That way I’ll always be reminded of you, and you me.”

“I’d like nothing more, my love.”

And after being called a baby multiple times by Luna and a few blaring yelps - mostly on Ina’s part - they were permanently linked by ink. 

“I love you but I am never ever doing that again, Luna.”

[steves-on-a-plane]

Trending Cap

Words: 843 Pairing: Sam Wilson X Reader Also Staring: Bucky Barnes Summary: When Reader finds out Sam, as the new Captain America, isn't planning on doing anything special to celebrate 4th of July she suggests he recreates a viral TikTok trend. With the help of Reader and Bucky, Sam adds his own twist to the trend to great success.

“So, what are you doing for the fourth, Sam Eagle?” You asked the newly minted Captain America. You tossed yourself onto his couch and made yourself comfortable in his Washington, DC apartment.

“Who the hell is Sam Eagle?” Sam laughed.

“He’s a Muppet.” Bucky supplied as he walked into the kitchen carrying a six pack of beers. “He’s an eagle Muppet who’s whole personality is freedom and loving America. You have wings and you’re Captain America now. Also, your name is Sam. It’s a very funny joke.” He assured.

“Now you expect me to believe you know who the Muppets are?” Sam shook his head as Bucky began packing his beers into the fridge.

“I have a television in my apartment.” Bucky reminded him.

“To answer your question, [Y/N], this is what I’m doing. Sarah’s taking the boys off on a long weekend trip so I invited my two friends over and I’m going to cook some food, we’re going to hang out.” Sam shrugged. “What more could I want?”

“Ok, but I meant more like what are you doing as Captain America?” You clarified. “Like I know Steve used to go way over the top because it was his birthday and all, but are you not even going to post like a Cap meme or TikTok dance or anything?”

“A TikTok dance?” Sam chuckled.

“Why not?” You shrugged. “Maybe not a dance, but there’s this audio that’s been getting pretty popular.”

You reached for your phone which was dangling precariously off the edge of Sam’s coffee table. You opened the TikTok app and searched for the audio you wanted. Once you found it you played it for Bucky and Sam. The Audio started with the Star-Spangled Singer’s singing the verse of The Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the song from Steve’s old USO shows. Once the audio reached the line “We can’t ignore there’s a front and a war we must win” the background music changed to a more modern beat mixed with Sam’s very recent speech “I know there are millions of people who are going to hate me for it. Even now, here, I feel it. The stares, the judgement, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. And I’m still here. No super serum. No. Blonde hair or blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can do better.”

“The trend is sort of a way to celebrate you as the new Cap.” You explained. “What most people do is they’ll do something like wear 1940’s fashion until the part where the music changes and then they switch to modern clothes. There are also some pretty impressive cosplays on here with homemade suits. For those typically its someone who starts out in a replica Steve suit and ends in a replica of yours. Usually they’ll act all hokey and exaggerated during the first bit and switch to a very serious lip-sync when it gets to the Captain Sam part.”

“[Y/N]’s right.” Bucky commented as he scrolled through TikTok on his own phone. “Walker might not be the only one you have to fight for the shield. These are some pretty impressive…what did you call them?”

“Cosplayers.” You supplied.

“Dress up people.” Bucky nodded.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” Sam nodded. “But the two or you have to help me.”

“Perfect! I’ve always wanted to raid your closet!” C’mon Buck, you can be my onset 1940s fashion consultant.” You dragged him towards Sam’s bedroom.

“[Y/N]! Don’t even think about taking one of my flannel shirts!” Sam called after you.

“Two shirts it is then!” You shouted back.

With Bucky’s help you were able to piece together a presentable 1940s stye outfit from Sam’s closet. The outfit consisted of Khaki slacks, a brown belt, brown leather shoes and a brown and beige stripped shirt. The collar wasn’t exactly wide enough for the time, Bucky wanted to point out, but it would do in a pinch. Luckily the wallpaper in the living room of Sam’s apartment looked ancient. It probable hadn’t been updated since the 1920’s let alone the 40s.

So, you positioned Sam in a corner of the room where most of his modern amenities were out of sight and filmed him dancing and mouthed along to the Star Spangled Man song. When the music stopped you stopped filming. Sam changed most of the way into his cap suit. He gave you the signal and you began filming. Sam added on pieces to his outfit, like his wings, and his goggles while repeating his speech. When he reached his final line “I believe we can do better.” He looked directly into the camera. You held his gaze for a second before cutting off the recording.

“People are going to love it, Sam.” You told him confidently.

“We’ll see I guess.” He took his phone from you and added his own caption to the video. “Wanted to get in on the trend. Have a safe and happy 4th of July.” He added in a few hashtags before posting the video.

“Now will the two of you let me enjoy the rest of my day in peace?” Sam asked setting his phone down.

“I don’t know, I kind of want to see you make a Sam Eagle TikTok now that [Y/N] has put that idea in my head.” Bucky announced.

“This is my place.” Sam reminded you both. “I can kick you out any time.”

“I was promised cold beer and free food. I’m not leaving until I get both.” Bucky insisted. “And don’t bother asking if I’d throw hands with Captain America because we both know you wouldn’t be the first or even the second to find out that answer is yes.” Bucky sat down on the couch you’d once occupied. Sam had a witty retort prepped and ready to fire, but his phone began to buzz in his hand.

“Our TikTok’s got a like.” He shared proudly. His phone buzzed again. “Oh another one!”

“There’s a few comments too.” Bucky said. “’Welcome to the App Cap’ and ‘It’s the 40’s fit for me.’ [Y/N], what does fit mean?”

Within minutes Sam’s phone was booming with notifications. They were happening so frequently he had to set the sound to completely silent just so he could hear himself think. There were a few negative comments. Someone had dredged out the classic “Not My Cap” hashtag, but overall the response was positive. After twenty-four hours the video had over 500 thousand likes and ten thousand comments.

“[Y/N], you want a job as my social media/PR?” Sam jokingly texted you the next morning. “But seriously, it was a good idea. Thanks for the assist.”

“Anything for you, Cap.” You replied back. “You can pay me back with dinner next Saturday night. I’m still dreaming of last night’s dinner. Oh also, I stole a flannel from your closet.” You added a winking emoji before sending Sam a photo of you wearing his flannel shirt.

“It’s yours.” He replied. “That shirt’s never looked so good.”

“I can think of one place it might look better. You’re floor.” You sent, trying to sound flirty.

“That’s probably where you found it in the first place.” He messaged back with a series of laugh emojis. “You can return it if you want.”

“You’re so oblivious!” You told him with an eyeroll emoji. “The shirt is mine, and…” But before you could send another reply a new message from Sam came through.

“I���m just joking. Are you free tomorrow for dinner?” He wanted to know.

“We just had dinner together yesterday.” You reminded him.

“Now who’s oblivious? You have to eat every day don’t you? And Bucky wont be at this dinner.” He texted back all in one message.

“Ohhhhhh.” You typed several extra ‘H’s to emphasize your realization. “I’ll see you at 6, your place.”

[goodlucktkachuk]

Frantic -- Matthew Tkachuk (Pt.2)

a/n: And by popular demand we have part two. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part One

------------------------------------------

Instantly a smile covered your face as you pressed confirm. Your instagram was nothing of scandal, mainly  paintings or doodles, a few pictures of you and Emily, and some vacation photos from last summer in Muskoka that you knew Matthew will enjoy. When Mitch reentered the room he shot you a puzzled look.

“What’s got you so chipper mini?” He teased, using the nickname your mom affectionately gave you when you were four and in a phase where you followed Mitch everywhere.

Chuckling, you shrugged your shoulders, “Emily sent me a really funny video of Nick in a facemask.” He laughed at the thought and the topic was dropped.

Around 1am, Mitch was blacked out on the couch next to you so you took the blanket you had wrapped around you and you tried to place it as softly as possible on your sleeping brother. After turning off the TV, you headed into their bathroom to borrow Steph’s makeup wipes. As you stared at yourself in the mirror for the first time that day and you could really see how tired you were. The all nighters of  homework and the rush and fall of going to games had started to catch up with you. You quickly slipped into Mitches closet and grabbed one of his old London hoodies and a pair of boxers. Once you found yourself in your pajamas and the warm embrace of the guest bed you flicked your eyes on your phone once again.

*Matthew_Tkachuk has sent you a message*

Intrigued by what the boy has to say you slid over the notification and unlocked your phone.

Matthew: first of all, what the fuck? Had I know it was you I wouldn’t have said what I said

Y/N: what?

Matthew: You didn’t think to mention that you're a mini marnie princess?

Y/N: why does it matter matty? Not like I live with him anymore. I’m an adult now Matty

Matthew: You’re still Mitches kid sister Y/N! I can’t just brush that off

Your chest ran tight after hearing him call you a kid. You knew you were younger but didn’t see the big deal about it.

Y/N: Oh give me a break, I’m 19, I’m all grown up now Tkachuk

Matthew: prove it, move this to snap and put your money where your mouth is ;)

Your heart fluttered in your chest but before you could enjoy it you found yourself mentally scorning yourself. This was your brother's old teammate and a family friend. Hell, you and Tayrn were attached at the hip everytime you two were together. There was too much history. Even though everything in your mind screamed no you found yourself accepting his proposal anyway before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning you woke up to find there was a sticky note placed firmly on your forehead. Pulling it off slowly, you flipped it over and it read ‘Went out for lunch with some of the team. Text me when you wake up’ The fact he couldn’t have just texted you that made you roll your eyes. You slowly lifted yourself out of the bed and started your staggered walk to the guest bathroom.

The sight in the mirror this morning was actually pretty cute. Your braids were slightly a mess from the night before but it went nicely with how Mitches sweater fit you and how his boxers hung off your hips. You snapped a picture of you throwing up a peace sign and posted it on your story with some witty caption about stealing Mitch’s clothes and looking better in them before hopping in the shower.

After departing from the warmth of the shower you changed back into your jeans from the night before and kept the sweater on. You ordered yourself some food and pulled out your laptop to get some school work done. Before you dove into art history and marketing techniques you opened a snapchat from Matt.

It wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He was sitting in a restaurant somewhere in a nice polo shirt. You could see half his face and his curls were pushed up with a red bandana. You stared at it for so long that you almost forgot to read what it said. ‘Snazzy hoodie you got there mini marnie, too bad it has the wrong name on the back’

You followed suit with your response, only sending half your face with a smirk plastered to your lips. ‘See Marner suits me so much better than Tkachuk so I think I’ll stick with this one!’

Matthew smiles at his phone. He was at a team lunch with the Flames and a few Leafs to catch up before they had to head back to Calgary. It was nice to see all the boys again, especially Mitch even though he had a different Marner on his mind. The lunch was overall pleasant even with all the dirty looks he had got from Auston any time anyone mentioned Y/N. As hard as it was for him not to spew endless chirps, he knew if he ever wanted a shot with you he knew he had to bite his tongue.

Deciding taking photos wasn’t the smartest way to hide what he was doing he texted you back instead. “Ouch Y/N that one hurt a bit. Hopefully in a few years you’ll change your mind ;)”

Y/N: In your dreams, Tkachuk. The team already has me destined to be with Aus so you gotta get in line.

Seeing those words made a fire erupt in his body. He knew you were probably just joking around but the idea of Auston getting to hold you made his blood run cold. Maybe that friendly warning wasn’t in the best interest of Y/N but Auston being selfish.

Matty: Auston has nothing on me sweetheart.

His words stopped you in your tracks. You never thought the juvenile feelings you had for Matthew would ever be reciprocated but here he was playing the game right back.

Y/N: I don’t know Matty, I’ve seen what Austons packing

As soon as Matthew read your text he slammed his phone down with a ‘Fuck’ that was a bit too loud making all the guys look at him.

“What’s your deal?”  Johnny asks, confused at his sudden outburst.

“Nothing.” Matthew says before he picks his phone backup and answers his text.

Matthew: I’m sorry what?

Before you answered, your mind drifted back to the previous summer. Mitch had invited the team and their girlfriends up to your cottage for one of the long weekends. It was a really fun weekend filled with drinking, boating, bonfires and even more drinking. On the last night there, Auston had a bit too much and proceeded to take off his swim trunks and run full force into the lake. Thinking it was hilarious, a few of the other boys followed suit. Unfortunately, because of where you were sitting when this happened, you saw a bit more of your brother's teammate than you would like to.

Snapping back to realted you messaged him back.

Y/N: you read what I sent

Matthew: tell me how good he was and then let me show you something better princess.

A mad blush crossed your face at the thought of Matthew showing you what he could do. You pushed those thoughts out of your head and began work on the lecture notes you were avoiding. Trying your best to push the thought of him having his way with you out of your head.

A few hours passed and the boys all crashed into Mitches apartment. Mo, Jake, and Zach set up shop on the bar stools across from you as Auston draped himself over your shoulders. Mitch leaned over the edge of the counter, all of them talking over each other. You missed having a house full of players all having fun. Matthew texted you again and you quickly turned your phone over before anyone could see it but you weren’t fast enough. Hearing your phone go off and seeing Auston look over your shoulder, Jake shot him a look to which Auston just shook his head and they both frowned knowing it was Tkachuk. Still typing away on your computer, Aus reached down putting his hands on yours and the pressure alone messed you up. As you went to scold him Jake interrupted you.

“So Y/N did you hear the Sandman and his girlfriend broke up?”

“I didn’t actually, I thought they were gonna get engaged?” Not looking up from your screen you tried speaking with as little interest as possible.

He shrugged his shoulders then continued “Guess it didn’t work out” He took a slight pause while Auston nodded at him  “Maybe you two should go out. Mitch mentioned at lunch you aren't seeing anyone.”

“I’m not sure dating another leaf is a good idea.” You responded still trying to feign interest.

“I think that would be a great idea.” Aus chimed in from behind you.

“I don’t remember asking what you thought, Auston.” You bite back.

You could cut the tension between you and Auston with a knife. After about a minute of no one saying anything, Mitch clapped loudly to catch the group's attention before he spoke.  

“Alright boys I think it's time for some Modern Warfare” The boys all nodded and headed towards the living room.

Auston leaned in close, whispering in your ear before going to meet the others, “It’s cause he’s young right? I know guys my age are more your speed these days.”

You flinched slightly, “I don’t know what you're talking about” You tried to say as smoothly as possible.

“If you say so, pest.” The last word basically being spat at you with a hostility you had never felt from him before. He finally let go of you and headed for the living room.

With that comment you had had enough and excused yourself to head back to your apartment. On your way down to the lobby knowing you were safe from the watchful eye of Auston and Jake you decided to answer Matthew.

Matthew: Y/N? Did I say something that's going to get me in trouble?

Y/N: Sorry, got distracted by some homework. Since when is Matty Tkachuk afraid of causing a little trouble ?

Part Three

[wonder-womans-ex]

And The Song Keeps Playing

Part 2

The days drag on. Then they turn into weeks, and months, and those drag on, too. The whirlwind that was Sirius has disappeared from Remus’s life, and he is left drifting aimlessly from decision to decision, not quite sure what to do. 

There is no determination in Remus’s life, There is no passion. There isn’t much of anything, really, if you don’t count the empty space on the other side of the bed and the late nights spent at the bar down the street. The only thing he truly has to live for are memories, because his past with Sirius is the most important thing in the world—someone has to remember it, and he knows that somewhere, Sirius is trying his hardest not to. 

It’s funny, really, that he didn’t realize just how large a part of his life Sirius was until Sirius was gone. He has no one to go to, no shoulder to cry on, because it was always supposed to be Sirius’s shoulder. Before they were lovers, they were friends, and it never really occurred to either of them that they could ever be nothing at all. 

Well, it probably occurred to Sirius. But he’s not going to think about that. 

In any case, Remus has only four contacts in his phone. One is Sirius’s cell, one is Sirius’s old work number, and the other two… well, he’s not about to call his mother or his Great Aunt Caroline and tell them that his first real relationship—with a man, no less—has reached its—in hindsight, somewhat inevitable—end. 

All of which means he’s left, heartbroken, in an apartment he can’t afford on his own with nothing but photo albums he should really throw out but can’t bring himself to and an engagement ring that never got to see the light of day to keep him company. Remus has a gaping hole in his heart that can’t be filled with anything but Sirius, and since Sirius is no longer there, he has no choice but to not try to fill it at all. 

He writes. 

He writes because that’s all he knows how to do. He puts pencil to paper and spins stories of completely fictional people who are, in no way, shape, or form, anything like anyone who happens to be named Sirius Orion Black. No, his characters are blond and red-haired; his characters have spring-green and ocean blue eyes; his characters have skin like cream or terra cotta or freshly churned soil. Not one of them is pale bronze with thick dark hair and grey eyes that darken with anger or fear or sadness or lust. Not one of them loves like it’s all he was born to do. 

Marcia at the bookstore still smiles at him when he arrives for his shift. She still rolls her eyes and pretends not to notice when she catches him reading on the job. But Marcia, the only person he ever used to willingly make conversation with—other than Sirius, obviously—has no idea that every time he catches a whiff of one of the cigarettes she smokes on her break, he has to fight back tears. 

It only takes three months—which is longer than he had expected, actually—for him to look at what he has and know, with sickening surety, that there’s no way he can make rent. Barely a week later, he’s locking his apartment door for the final time and handing over the key to the lady (Janine, her name says) behind the front desk. 

He’s got a duffel bag in one hand, full of as many clothes as he could fit. In the other—or, technically, balanced against his hip—is the huge blue tupperware bin full of vinyl records—mostly Sirius’s, but six of them are his own, and that’s the excuse he gives himself for keeping them. Everything else is on the moving van: the turntable and the toaster and the sofa he almost put up for sale on eBay but eventually decided against. He and Sirius bought that sofa together, which of course has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. 

There’s only one thing Remus can’t excuse; there’s only one thing that makes his carefully woven story of not missing Sirius begin to crumble: that ugly old bird paperweight that Sirius had loved so much. It’s funny, in a morbid sort of way, because Remus used to spend so much time trying to convince him to get rid of it, but now, strangely, bitterly, it’s all he truly has left of him. 

In truth, he’s not sure how he does anything anymore. His head is still a storm of fresh heartbreak and poisoned Cupid’s arrows and the all-consuming need that is Sirius—or, rather, the lack of him. Sirius isn’t there, which means love isn’t, either, and the truth is that time passes a lot more painfully quickly without those two vitally connected things there to make everything real and meaningful and worth remembering. 

So he finds himself standing in the middle of an empty apartment, staring up at the water stains on the ceiling, not knowing what truly happened to get him here, except for that it is in every way Sirius’s fault. 

It feels strange when he thinks about it, but this is the first time he’s ever lived alone. He and Sirius, when they made the inevitable change from friends to more at age fifteen—after three years of lingering gazes and hugs that lasted just a few seconds longer than necessary—had immediately known, deep inside, that somewhere out there, there was a one-bedroom apartment and a life together waiting for them. It’s common knowledge that teenage romances never go far, but that was never supposed to apply to them. 

He wonders how long Sirius had been planning his escape to greatness, and then he decides that knowing the answer to that question would be what undoes him completely. 

So Remus waits. He goes to the bookstore and waits for customers; he lies awake in bed at night and waits for sleep to come to him; he reads the newspaper every morning and waits for Sirius’s name. His heart breaks a little more as first September, then October comes to a close and the possibility that Sirius left him for nothing becomes more and more real. It’s been almost a year, and Sirius’s promise of I’m going to be famous doesn’t look like it’s going to stop being broken anytime soon. 

Them just as quickly, it has been a year—November sixth will forever be etched into his memory; he knows that as sure as anything—and Remus Lupin finds himself in a dimly lit bar nursing a whiskey that tastes like crying himself to sleep. Or, at least, he thinks it’s whiskey. He wasn’t really paying attention when he ordered. As long as it does its job of erasing tonight from his memory, it’s good enough for him. 

Over in one corner of the bar, there’s one of those Coca-Cola ads—the retro ones with old-fashioned teenagers in old-fashioned clothing. This one shows a redhead girl and a dark-haired boy on a picnic blanket, and the happy smiles on their faces seem to Remus to be taunting him. At the bottom, it’s captioned ‘make it a date — share a coke!’ and he tries to think of something witty and wry to say about it, but all his mind provides is the way Sirius’s eyes used to crinkle when he laughed. Hell, maybe they still do, and Remus has to squeeze his eyes closed to stop himself from crying when he wonders who the cause of Sirius’s laughter—his happiness—is nowadays. It isn’t him, that’s for sure. 

Under the sign is a piano. There’s a man sitting there; his fingers dance along the keys to create a melody Remus hasn’t let himself notice until now. 

He takes first one step, then another in that direction, and before he knows it—before he’s truly ready—he’s meeting a pair of dark hazel eyes from just a few feet away. The man smiles when he sees him. 

“Got any requests?”

As soon as he says it, Remus will wish he hadn’t, but he has to anyway. He owes it to himself. “Play us a song; you’re the piano man,” he whispers, and his voice carries well in the far-too-silent bar. 

A grin. “I’d been hoping someone would ask.”

It’s fine, at first. He lets the music wash over him; he takes in the story of a man with not quite enough to live for. But then the barely-there ache begins to consume him. This is, in a way, his story—his and Sirius’s—and with every word, he feels as if his heart is being laid bare. Before, he was hurting because Sirius left him, but now he’s just hurting because Sirius is gone. 

It’s the last epiphany he wants to have while he’s here, in a bar at the end of nowhere street, listening to this fucking song and trying for the life of him not to cry. 

He can’t do this. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, stepping away from the piano before he can see the expression on the man’s face. A woman by the door turns around indignantly when he shoulders past her, but he barely notices. He’s outside, and he can breathe again, and he stands in the red glow of the neon sign and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and sobs. 

[lesbianzhane]

gigi goode does NOT simp (crygi)

gigi goode is a popular instagram designer and model. her friend, jan, constantly posts photos with a pretty girl that gigi falls head over heels for. when nicky throws a party, and that pretty girl just so happens to be there with jan, gigi knows that her friend was pulling out some sort of scheme. 

ao3 link!

Gigi never liked to call herself an ‘influencer’. The word seemed far too snobby, and she really didn’t believe she was all that big of a deal online. Sure, she had a couple hundred thousand (closer to a million, really) followers. But, in the grand scheme of things, did that really matter? People would tire of her one day, they’d find another pretty fashionista to gush over in the span of a year. For the time being, she just wanted to bask in whatever glow she had. The fame would come and go, and soon she’d be left with nothing but the memory of her silly little instagram account. 

Speaking of, the blonde haired girl set up her next post. Her caption had been some witty pun made up by her best friend, Jackie, because obviously she wouldn’t think of something so endearing yet stupid at the same time. Gigi usually ripped her captions from stupid things her friends would say, or she would force Nicky to translate some song lyric into french and use that. She wasn’t exactly the most creative when it came to captioning her posts, but she made up for it with the fact that the clothes she wore were all hand designed. 

Ever since she could remember, Gigi loved fashion. She loved being able to make things that people loved and wished they owned themselves. She adored the way that people would ask her where she got a garment, and how she could answer that she made it herself. Most inspiration she had came from her mother. She had been a seamstress as well, and as a child Gigi would watch her work. She was fascinated with how easily her mother put together clothes, and she started designing at a young age. It’s what led her to where she was now. 

Gigi began posting her outfits on Instagram a year prior. She didn’t expect it to go anywhere, really. So, when she started gaining followers, she was completely shocked. People actually liked her designs and her fashion enough to follow her. Enough to anticipate her next post. It was mind boggling to her. 

As she hit post, she scrolled down her Instagram feed. It was mostly filled with her friends. Jackie’s silly little Star Trek stan account that she had insisted Gigi followed, and Nicky’s own fashion account. Jackie had even forced her to follow the girl she had been pining after for years now, Jan, and she could have sworn the girl combusted when she got that follow notification. The direct message that followed consisted of a fully caps locked message, and a whole bunch of spelling mistakes that Gigi couldn’t even count. 

Pausing her scrolling, one post in particular caught her eye. It was from Jan, posted about an hour ago. In the photo, Jan was smiling brightly with a taller girl standing by her side. Her bouncy red curls were flying all over the place, and her smile lit up the entire photo. Gigi loved when Jan posted photos like this. She didn’t even know the name of the mystery person, and there was never an account tagged in the photos. Gigi was left wondering who that beautiful girl was, and of course she brought it up everytime she saw Jan. 

Gigi could recall the most recent time she brought up the mystery girl. Her, Jan and Jackie were gathered around a busy diner booth, all sharing one basket of fries. It was a silly idea, because Jan could eat far faster than the other two, so by the time Gigi had tuned back into the conversation, half the basket was already gone. She didn’t really mind though. She was aimlessly scrolling through her Instagram, as she does, when another photo of the mystery girl popped up on her feed. She slid her phone towards Jan, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Who is this?” Gigi had a rather harsh tone of voice, and oftentimes she sounded meaner than she had intended to. But, Jan knew her well enough to see past that. 

“That’s me and my friend, why?” Jan was much more upbeat than Gigi was. Sometimes, the blonde would wonder if Jan had ever felt any emotion aside from happiness. 

“Yeah but like, what’s her name? Her Instagram?” Gigi pressed forward. 

A grin spread onto Jan’s lips, and she snatched Gigi’s phone up. “Are you being a simp? Are you simping for my friend who you have never met?”

“What does that even mean?” Gigi attempts to snatch her phone away from Jan, all while Jackie sits back and does nothing to help her. Some best friend she is. “Jackie, help me.”

“I want no part in whatever you two are doing.” Jackie throws her hands up, before taking another fry and popping it into her mouth. It’s so like Jackie to not get involved in their silly squabble, it makes Gigi wonder why she loves the girl so much. Except, not really. She knows why. 

“Give me my phone! I don’t even know what a simp is.” Gigi stretches across the table until she’s practically kneeling on it. It’s garnered the attention from other occupants in the diner, most of them wondering what the hell this twenty something year old is doing. Gigi pays no mind, finally grasping her phone and sinking back down into her seat. 

Jan goes on to explain exactly what a simp is to Gigi, and the girl can't even deny the fact that maybe she is simping a little bit. She doesn’t think it really counts though, she’s never sent this mystery person any money. She doesn’t even know her name for crying out loud. 

It’s about a week later, and Gigi still has no answers to who this person is. Jan refuses to tell her, for whatever reason. She has to push those thoughts aside for the moment, because their close friends are throwing a party that evening and she still has yet to get dressed. She moved over to her closet, rifling through her clothes for something suitable. It wasn’t something super fancy, so she could skip out on long gowns. She didn’t really feel like showing up in a cocktail dress either, though. 

After searching for an allotted time that she doesn’t really want to admit, Gigi finds the perfect outfit. It’s a turtleneck shirt that hugs her figure like a glove, and it has a beautiful floral print on it. She pairs it with a simple high waisted short, tucking the shirt into them. It makes her waist look skinny, and her legs long. She adds a small little pink scarf tied around her neck. She pairs it with a matching pair of pink boots that make her even taller, and she looks over her outfit in the mirror. It’s perfect for a casual party, plus she looks pretty enough for anyone new she might meet. 

Grabbing her purse, she slips her keys into her hand and heads out the door. Thoughts of the mystery girl are completely void from her mind, which was rare. She was glad for the distraction though, and she drove towards Nicky’s house with Clario blasting throughout her car. 

Nicky has much more money than Gigi did. Her house was larger than Gigi thought was possible, and the other woman surely didn’t need that much space. It helped though, when she had parties like this. Though it was mostly kept to close friends, other friends were brought around and it made the house bustle with noise. Gigi stepped inside without even knocking, knowing Nicky well enough that she didn’t find it necessary to do such a thing. 

As she was crossing the main hall to go find where her friends were tucked away, she saw her. Long legs covered by a pair of worn out denim jeans that were absolutely covered in iron on patches. She was wearing a bright green blouse that hung loosely off her shoulders, and it was unbuttoned enough to reveal the white tank top she was wearing underneath. Bracelets and necklaces clinked together every time the girl moved, and there were the signature red curls adorning her head. She looked even prettier in real life. 

Before she could even take a deep breath, Jan was by her side tugging on her wrist. Gigi stumbles a bit, still a little dazed from seeing the mystery girl from all those photos right in front of her. “Hey girl! You drooling? Better pick your mouth up off the floor before she notices!”

The music from the house pumps in her ears, and she can barely hear Jan making fun of her because of it. Barely being the key word here. Gigi shoves her, puffing out her cheeks. “I didn’t know she would be here. You should have told me, you bitch!” 

Jan simply laughs, grabbing Gigi’s wrist and pulling her over towards her. She can feel her heart in her throat as they get closer, and Gigi has time to appreciate just how beautiful this girl is. Sure, her fashion is louder than Gigi’s, and she certainly looked more creative than herself. Her features were soft, her lips look fuller in person if that was even possible. Gigi was absolutely blown away, how was it possible for someone to be that pretty?

Before she could get over whatever she was feeling, the mystery girl was right in front of her. Her smile lit up the whole room, and Gigi was finding it difficult to even breathe in the presence of this girl. She was already striking up a conversation with Jan that Gigi was tuning out. In favor of listening, she was simply staring at the girl and hoping that she would be swallowed by the floor. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t talk to someone this pretty. All the confidence she prides herself on having was washing away. And then, that smile was directed at her, and she thought she might just pass out.

“Hi! I’m Crystal!” Crystal. That was her name. Such a perfect name for such a perfect girl. Gigi thought that Crystal suited her, considering she was about as unique as a crystal. None of them looked perfectly the same, and they all stood out on their own. 

“Uh..” Gigi stuttered over her words, looking around the room as if she had forgotten her own name. “Gigi! I’m… Gigi.”

“Pretty name for such a pretty girl!” Crystal shot her a wink, and Gigi felt her heart stop in her chest. The way the music pounded made her feel dizzy, and Crystal giving her that flirty little smile wasn’t helping at all. Gigi simply laughed the compliment off, waving her hand and excusing herself from the two of them. She needed to get some air. 

Stepping out onto Nicky’s back patio, Gigi looked down at the pool below her. There was a small staircase that led down to the pool's edge, and with the beginning of summer fast approaching, Nicky had just opened up the pool. The water shone with the sunset, rippling and allowing Gigi to get lost in her thoughts. The mystery girl, Crystal, had actually been here. Jan was probably planning this all along. Gigi wouldn’t be surprised if the reason she kept any and all information a secret was for this exact night. Actually, she guaranteed that was the reason. 

Reaching into her pocket, Gigi took out the one object that always brought her comfort. Her phone. She opened her Instagram, scrolling through her notifications until a certain name popped out at her. 

crystalemethyd has followed you!

Crystal Methyd. That was her full name. She clicked onto the page, finding herself lost in scrolling through pictures of the beautiful girl. Her follower count was low, and it was clear that this was a personal account and not a business one like Gigi’s. Crystal's vibrant smile captivated her, and she didn’t even hear the door to the patio opening. She was far too engrossed in the current photo of Crystal holding up her cat and laughing at the camera. The way her eyes crinkled slightly was absolutely adorable, and Gigi couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. 

“That’s my cat, Tic Tac.” The sudden voice behind her startled her, and Gigi nearly dropped her phone down into the pool water below them. She took a deep breath, locking her phone quickly and pressing a hand to her chest. 

“You can’t just sneak up on somebody like that, jeez!” Gigi puffed up her cheeks, though her voice was much softer than she intended. Crystal just laughed quietly at her, holding her arms up. 

“I’m sorry! You were just standing out here by yourself, thought you could use some company.” Crystal shrugged, and Gigi had to force herself to look away from those perfectly painted lips. She looked up to the sky, watching the way it melted from a light purple to a beautiful pink. The edges of the sun were setting, and she could see how all the colors blended together to make a masterpiece. 

“So…” Crystal broke the silence. “Why are you out here scrolling through my Instagram? Are you some sort of stalker or something?” The playful grin on her lips made Gigi’s heart tremble, and she looked away quickly. 

“No! I just noticed you followed me.” She swallowed. Since when was she this awkward? Never in her life had she found herself fumbling for words like this. “I’ve seen pictures of you and Jan before. You were never tagged in any of them.”

“Oh yeah, I didn’t want Jan’s followers like hounding me or something.” Crystal laughed again. “People on the internet are scary. And mean.”

It was the first time since she had seen Crystal that her smile faltered. There was a flash of nervousness, of insecurity in her eyes before it was replaced by that confident aura that seemed to follow her. “Yeah.” Was all Gigi could bring herself to say. 

The two of them stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both sneaking glances at the other. Gigi still couldn’t believe how beautiful Crystal was in person, and that fact that she was really standing in front of her was starting to settle in. As if the silence was actually physically hurting her, Crystal brought her hands down onto the railing of the patio, forcing Gigi to look over to her. 

“Well, it’s been great standing here and doing nothing.” Crystal starts, and Gigi assumes that she must think she’s the most boring person in the whole world. “But, Jan is going to throw a fit if I don’t help her with Jackie. That’s why I’m here after all. And for this mystery girl who has been simping over me for a while.”

Crystal winks at her, and Gigi feels her entire face go red. Of course Jan had told her about that, because why wouldn’t she. She swore that she would get back at her at some point, probably by using Jackie against her. Really though, she knew that Jackie wouldn’t go along with it. 

Crystal grabbed her arm, producing a pen from her pocket. Gigi hadn’t even realized what was happening until she felt the numbers being scrawled across her arm. They were loopy and beautiful, and she never wanted to wash them off. She gasped at the numbers that were clear for anyone to see, and Crystal just grinned at her. 

“You do know I have my phone with me, right?” Gigi challenges her, and Crystal just waves her hand.

“Where’s the romance in that, miss Goode?” With those final words, Crystal shoots her one last wink and disappears into the house. Gigi is left standing there, mouth hung open as she tries to process what had just happened. Did Crystal want to go out with her? Was this a date invitation?

Gigi had no idea. But she took her phone out, copied the number into it and put a cute little heart next to Crystal’s contact name. After a few deep breaths, she went back inside to find where the hell Nicky and Jackie were. Plus, she wanted to see whatever scheme Jan had planned to swoop Jackie off her feet. 

Gigi never really understood slang, despite her follower count. Most of it went over her head, and she wasn’t well versed in meme culture. But, in the words of Jan, maybe she was a simp. 

And maybe that was okay.

[probably-writing-x]

Unintentional beginnings

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by anon: hey! i love your writing!! i was wondering if you could write an aron piper x reader one where the reader is a “fan” and sliedes i to his dms and they talk for a while until aron asks her out on a date which is where they meet for the first time and instantly realize they’re made for eachother? thank you so so much 🥰🥰

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

You hadn’t thought much of it when it first begun. You’d simply started a new show on Netflix after you’d finished something else and you’d landed upon Élite. It sounded interesting to say the least but you hadn’t expected this. Now, you were halfway through the first season on your first night of watching the show and you’d already been onto Instagram to follow all of the cast. You were engrossed!

Now, it had only taken you a week and you were already coming to the end of season 3. Omar and Ander had rapidly become your favourite thing about the show as you watched with tears in your eyes at the prospect of their long awaited reunion. You had already rewatched the scene three times when you decided to pull out your phone and snap a photo for your Instagram story. It was a photo of the laptop screen in front of you, with your solo glass of wine and the blanket covering you - with the caption ‘these boys have officially killed me!’. You also didn’t think much of it when you’d tagged Arón and Omar in the photo - they’d never see it anyway.

You finished the season, went to bed that night in your flat, and only just about heard the notification on your phone at 2am. It made you jump awake, never being much of a deep sleeper anyway. You groaned and rubbed your eyes to try and make the screen more clear. But, sure as hell, you definitely bolted awake when you saw Arón’s name on the Instagram notification that had just come through.

He’d replied to your story.

‘Glad to know I’m doing my job well ;) x’

You had to blink a few more times to make sure you weren’t dreaming what you’d just seen. Though the whole process had to be reset again when you saw the notification come through that he’d followed you back...

There’s hardly a reply you can think of that would sound good enough.

‘I was talking more about Omar x’

That was okay? Right? It would come across okay?

It’s like a gut wrenching relief when you see him typing back - ‘Can’t blame you for that! I’m not actually as moody as Ander is x’

Somehow, you roll over in bed so you’re laying with your stomach flat against the mattress and you reply, and so does he, and you reply again... and you find yourself texting each other back and forth for the entire night - only noticing the time when the sun starts to rise outside the window of your flat.

‘You’ve really fucked up my sleeping pattern here x’

You smile at his message and reply - ‘Likewise x’ just as your eyes start to drop and you can no longer fight off the urge to fall asleep against the warm comfort of your bed. Was it possible to fall asleep with a smile on your lips?

- - - - - -

When you wake up later in the day, it’s already mid afternoon so you’ve only got a few hours left of sunlight - yep, definitely fucked up your sleep schedule.

You clamber out of bed and make yourself a coffee to drink on the small balcony outside of your apartment. It’s only then that you bother checking the notifications on your phone. To even more of your surprise, Arón has liked a bunch of your recent posts from your feed. He’d even commented on a couple of them with witty, mocking comments that all made you giggle like a school girl with a crush. How on Earth had this happened?!

You reply to one of them and it already feels odd to be flirting with him in the public of the digital age.

Then, you find a voice note from him left unread in your messages.

“Afternoon, sleepyhead, since you fell asleep and ignored me. Either that or I got a bit boring but I can’t see how that would work. Do you fancy watching a film with me later?”

And that’s how it all started. You’d set up films at the same time and FaceTime as you watched them to discuss. It sometimes took a few tries to get it to work properly but it was always worth watching Arón get more and more frustrated with his dying laptop.

It continued in that way for at least a few more weeks before you started to question things. You didn’t live far from each other, and yet you’d never actually made any plans to meet. Maybe this was just how he wanted it to stay, this oddly committed and casual setup you had going. But you’d found yourself cancelling plans to spend time on the phone to him and it seemed silly to do if this was all it was going to be. Though, as Arón had managed to do far too many times, he surprised you yet again.

“Yeah, I should take you there one day,” He laughs, “I think you’d love it.”

Silence falls between you as both of you realise what he’s said at this late hour over another FaceTime.

“Would you... maybe want to go with me?” He suggests, shifting in the bed so he was laying down with a pillow tucked underneath him.

You tuck your hair behind your ear as though he was right in front of you, not just through a screen, “Yeah, Id love to.”

“Great, are you free tomorrow?”

- - - - - -

At four pm the next afternoon, you’re grabbing your keys and rushing out of the house to get your taxi and make your way to the destination he’d told you about. It was to part of the set where they filmed some of Élite. For some reason, you’d got onto the topic yesterday. He’d told you that it wasnt the most attractive of places but it had rapidly become one of his favourites because of the scenes they’d filmed there.

When you arrive, you can tell what he means. It’s simply a graffiti struck bridge overlooking the water. But when you see who’s waiting on that bridge, no other appearance matters. He’s taller than you expected him to be and he’s wearing a big jacket and a cap that make him look disproportional to what you’d expected after seeing him on FaceTime. Hes already more handsome in real life and you envy it instantly.

“Here you are, my biggest fan!” He calls out to you as you approach him from the bottom of the steps as he stood at the top.

“Something like that,” You roll your eyes.

How had watching a Netflix show ending up in you now being on a date with one of the main cast?! Wasn’t this any fan’s dream?

“Hi, finally,” Arón smirks when you’re in front of him, “Seems weird to not be seeing you through a screen.”

You laugh, “Better or worse weird?”

“Better, definitely better,” He assures you, “Shall we?”

He starts walking across the bridge as you find yourself impossibly distracted by his appearance and presence, rather than looking at anything around you. You’d somehow also managed to zone completely out as he speaks up to catch your attention.

“Seems like you made the right decision to watch my show.”

[birlcholtz]

How about snowy and parse?

S N A R S E

okay so. it starts after That One Game. you know the one. the one where parse rushes the goal, almost injures snowy, and promptly gets dogpiled by half of the falconers and a decent number of aces as well (to be fair, his teammates weren't aiming for him). tater yanks him out of it by the jersey, parse feels a little too much like a lost kitten, and then all of a sudden he's halfway across the ice (tater pushed him)

WELL. that night parse watches a replay of it on espn because he doesn't know how to take a break from hockey and he's like oh damn. oh damn i really did almost hurt snow. that's rough. and he decides he's gotta figure out some way to talk to snow so he can apologize

so he instagram DMs him 

(let it be known parse's instagram is about one quarter thirst traps, one quarter pics of him and kit, and fully one half of just kit. snowy doesn't post as often and he's a bit more professional about the whole thing— like, lots of pictures with teammates, pics of the rink and of cool places in providence, but his captions are works of art)

snowy also posts the occasional espn screencap of tater in the sin bin and chirps him brutally in the caption. once he quotes cell block tango and the approximately 10 people who are into both hockey and musical theater go wild

okay enough about their respective instagrams. my pOINT is that parse ig dms snowy, who is mildly ashamed to admit (to himself, not out loud, never out loud) that his genuine first thought was 'wow kent parson is sliding into my dms'

and parse is like hey sorry i rushed you in that game, didn't realize how risky it was until i saw a replay later

and snowy can't help being his sardonic self and winds up sending back something witty and then parse replies and then snowy replies again and before either of them know it they're having a Conversation that they're actually?? both enjoying??

at one point snowy admits he likes cats and he immediately regrets it because parse sends him 6 videos of kit immediately, like within 5 seconds, but then he watches the videos and finds himself unwillingly liking them and then he finds himself requesting more and snowy is like what the fuck is happening in my brain but parse supplies 8 more cat videos and he watches all of them and comments on each one

he also reveals his sister has a cat and parse makes him promise to send photos and/or videos next time he sees her

they DM each other all the time until they finally just exchange phone numbers and at one point parse is like snow. dustin. can u facetime rn i need ur thoughts on kits halloween costume and snowy's like sure why not and that starts a tradition of facetiming every so often that eventually becomes less and less about kit

snowy is preeeeetty sure that jack and parse were together in juniors but he's never confirmed it because that's not his business you know? but he finds himself thinking more and more about whether parse might be into guys. but pride night w the falcs happens and he finds himself sending parse a pic of his newly rainbow-taped stick and adding 'best stick tape' after it

a few minutes later parse replies with a thumbs up and says 'i firmly agree' and they both breathe a little easier

also a few days later snowy accidentally likes one of parse's thirst trap pics from 6 months ago (shirtless pic on the balcony of his apartment) and he immediately unlikes it but it's too late parse sends him a screenshot of his notifications with the most recent one being snowy liking that post, and he also sends a ;) and snowy's like oh. my fucking god. and he replies 'jealous that u actually get to see the sun year round'

and parse reads it and starts typing and stops typing and starts typing and stops typing and eventually thinks 'fuck it' and sends a whole string of winky faces

so snowy's like fine. let's do this. and then this string of conversations happens:

snowy: jack what's your process for taking thirst trap selfies for instagram

jack: what's my process for... what???? what's a thirst trap

snowy: never mind ask bitty

snowy: tater how do i take thirst trap selfies for instagram

(tater is a lot more helpful and snowy relates his conversation with jack and tater chirps jack endlessly for it. at one point jack is like I'M ESL TOO TATER and tater's like YOU HAVE DEGREE FROM SAMWELL. IN THE UNITED STATES.)

so a few days later snowy (with mild trepidation) posts a fairly subtle post-workout pic (jack may not know what a thirst trap is but that doesn't mean half his instagram isn't full of them. snowy has observed the techniques of the master)

his comments explode but he doesn't care. parse likes the pic and snowy screenshots it INSTANTLY (he may have been constantly checking his notifications for this specifically) and sends it to parse like 'not so smug now are you' and parse spends literally 10 minutes trying to come up with a witty response

anyway eventually the sexual tension explodes, neither of them are out so they still have to be kinda. under the radar. but sending cat pictures is their love language, snowy funnels some jam and pie to parse, they argue about kombucha, half their conversations are still chirping but we all know what chirping is, eventually parse does meet snowy's sister's cat and it's amazing, they're approximately the same size so they do share and swap clothes (never anything with team logos on it, even once they're out, because the Disloyalty), jack is literally never questioned about his history with parse again because everyone's more curious about what it's like when parse and snowy play each other. especially since parse is a forward and snowy is a goalie. (there are some truly horrific 'score' jokes made in both locker rooms, and by horrific i mean so unfunny that they're hilarious)

tater is not allowed to answer questions about parse and snowy anymore because once some reporter did ask him and he said 'good for them but i think snowy can do better' and it went viral (bitty texted him 16 crying laughing emojis)

holidays and vacations with parse and snowy look like this: sweatpants in the winter and matching sunglasses in the summer, falling asleep together on the couch, cat toys literally everywhere, more arguing about kombucha, parse teaching snowy the finer points of instagram thirst traps and immediately regretting it, watching terrible horror movies together, adopting more cats

you have two wolves inside of you. one says 'parsnow'. the other says 'snarse'. also known as help i'm laughing my ass off about 'snarse'

okay so. it starts after That One Game. you know the one. the one where parse rushes the goal, almost injures snowy, and promptly gets dogpiled by half of the falconers and a decent number of aces as well (to be fair, his teammates weren't aiming for him). tater yanks him out of it by the jersey, parse feels a little too much like a lost kitten, and then all of a sudden he's halfway across the ice (tater pushed him)

WELL. that night parse watches a replay of it on espn because he doesn't know how to take a break from hockey and he's like oh damn. oh damn i really did almost hurt snow. that's rough. and he decides he's gotta figure out some way to talk to snow so he can apologize

so he instagram DMs him 

(let it be known parse's instagram is about one quarter thirst traps, one quarter pics of him and kit, and fully one half of just kit. snowy doesn't post as often and he's a bit more professional about the whole thing— like, lots of pictures with teammates, pics of the rink and of cool places in providence, but his captions are works of art)

snowy also posts the occasional espn screencap of tater in the sin bin and chirps him brutally in the caption. once he quotes cell block tango and the approximately 10 people who are into both hockey and musical theater go wild

okay enough about their respective instagrams. my pOINT is that parse ig dms snowy, who is mildly ashamed to admit (to himself, not out loud, never out loud) that his genuine first thought was 'wow kent parson is sliding into my dms'

and parse is like hey sorry i rushed you in that game, didn't realize how risky it was until i saw a replay later

and snowy can't help being his sardonic self and winds up sending back something witty and then parse replies and then snowy replies again and before either of them know it they're having a Conversation that they're actually?? both enjoying??

at one point snowy admits he likes cats and he immediately regrets it because parse sends him 6 videos of kit immediately, like within 5 seconds, but then he watches the videos and finds himself unwillingly liking them and then he finds himself requesting more and snowy is like what the fuck is happening in my brain but parse supplies 8 more cat videos and he watches all of them and comments on each one

he also reveals his sister has a cat and parse makes him promise to send photos and/or videos next time he sees her

they DM each other all the time until they finally just exchange phone numbers and at one point parse is like snow. dustin. can u facetime rn i need ur thoughts on kits halloween costume and snowy's like sure why not and that starts a tradition of facetiming every so often that eventually becomes less and less about kit

snowy is preeeeetty sure that jack and parse were together in juniors but he's never confirmed it because that's not his business you know? but he finds himself thinking more and more about whether parse might be into guys. but pride night w the falcs happens and he finds himself sending parse a pic of his newly rainbow-taped stick and adding 'best stick tape' after it

a few minutes later parse replies with a thumbs up and says 'i firmly agree' and they both breathe a little easier

also a few days later snowy accidentally likes one of parse's thirst trap pics from 6 months ago (shirtless pic on the balcony of his apartment) and he immediately unlikes it but it's too late parse sends him a screenshot of his notifications with the most recent one being snowy liking that post, and he also sends a ;) and snowy's like oh. my fucking god. and he replies 'jealous that u actually get to see the sun year round'

and parse reads it and starts typing and stops typing and starts typing and stops typing and eventually thinks 'fuck it' and sends a whole string of winky faces

so snowy's like fine. let's do this. and then this string of conversations happens:

snowy: jack what's your process for taking thirst trap selfies for instagram

jack: what's my process for... what???? what's a thirst trap

snowy: never mind ask bitty

snowy: tater how do i take thirst trap selfies for instagram

(tater is a lot more helpful and snowy relates his conversation with jack and tater chirps jack endlessly for it. at one point jack is like I'M ESL TOO TATER and tater's like YOU HAVE DEGREE FROM SAMWELL. IN THE UNITED STATES.)

so a few days later snowy (with mild trepidation) posts a fairly subtle post-workout pic (jack may not know what a thirst trap is but that doesn't mean half his instagram isn't full of them. snowy has observed the techniques of the master)

his comments explode but he doesn't care. parse likes the pic and snowy screenshots it INSTANTLY (he may have been constantly checking his notifications for this specifically) and sends it to parse like 'not so smug now are you' and parse spends literally 10 minutes trying to come up with a witty response

anyway eventually the sexual tension explodes, neither of them are out so they still have to be kinda. under the radar. but sending cat pictures is their love language, snowy funnels some jam and pie to parse, they argue about kombucha, half their conversations are still chirping but we all know what chirping is, eventually parse does meet snowy's sister's cat and it's amazing, they're approximately the same size so they do share and swap clothes (never anything with team logos on it, even once they're out, because the Disloyalty), jack is literally never questioned about his history with parse again because everyone's more curious about what it's like when parse and snowy play each other. especially since parse is a forward and snowy is a goalie. (there are some truly horrific 'score' jokes made in both locker rooms, and by horrific i mean so unfunny that they're hilarious)

tater is not allowed to answer questions about parse and snowy anymore because once some reporter did ask him and he said 'good for them but i think snowy can do better' and it went viral (bitty texted him 16 crying laughing emojis)

holidays and vacations with parse and snowy look like this: sweatpants in the winter and matching sunglasses in the summer, falling asleep together on the couch, cat toys literally everywhere, more arguing about kombucha, parse teaching snowy the finer points of instagram thirst traps and immediately regretting it, watching terrible horror movies together, adopting more cats

[jimimn]

🎨 yo

yo broooooooo. lol sorry this was lame. ANYWAYSDFGHJKL. I really tried sticking to 3 each for bts and got7 but........ my fingers slipped i couldn’t control myself :)

HERE WE GO. Gonna start with GOT7 because why not ^_^

I.C.O.N.I.C THE COLOURS!!!! IN !!!! THIS SET!!!!! bro i could never. Im just looking and looking and looking and I can’t look away 😳

how do you do this pls teach 😭😭😭 I have seen how absolutely pale the comeback live was and to transform those pale colours into colours as lively as this set is just.... idk impeccable me thinks. How do you do it pls give tuts :’)

yugyeom *dreamy sigh* OKAY ANY BIASES ASIDE bro the absolute amazing quality of these and the colouring and the SMOOTHNESS SFDGFHJGL the speed looks so perfect i love this set

ANNA QUEEN OF BIG GIFS your big gifs are SO PERFECT like literally how ;_; i still can’t get the sharpening right rip BUT I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OKAY and i remember the raw file for this and idk how but you changed THAT to this cyan and that alone is the reason enough for me to be in love with it 😳😳😳

OVER TO BTS!!!

*dreamy sigh*  okay again any biases aside, THIS COLOURING and the way it brings out his lips.... god’s work right there. I’m in love with all of the gifsets you made from this file because of this amaze colouring right here <3333 

<333333 as much as i absolutely love blue..... the blue here in the original file hurt me to colour which is why those gifs didn’t see the light of the day lmao BUT YOU MANAGED TO REDUCE THE BLUES AND MAKE THIS LOOK SO STUNNING LIKE HOW i love this so much 

HATE TUMBLR FOR NOT MAKING THIS SHOW UP ON THE DASH BEFORE the colouring perfect the quality perfect like tumblr pls stop sabotaging beautiful sets hello 😭😭😭 

😳😳😳 this colouring wow 😳 and anna THIS CAPTION I AM JUST AFSGDHFJKG i love how your brain produces such witty amazing captions bro lend some of that talent too 

THIS BECAME SO LONG but honestly okay im so in awe of your skills everytime because you’re always SO FAST with gifs like idk how and yet you’re never compromising with the quality or the colouring and that’s a really big deal so sdfghjk in short i love your gifs so much thank you for blessing us with them <3333

creators send me 🎨 & I’ll tell you my favorite of your last ten creations and why

[eventschimp]

115 Fantastic Happy Birthday Funny Messages. best wishes

Best Funny happy birthday wishes

Looking for the perfect Happy birthday funny messages & pictures to brighten someone's day? Whether it's someone you know, or someone you're friends with, or even someone who's lost their birthday wish, we have all the humorous birthday wishes you'll need and absolutely enjoy.

Fun should be an integral part of our life and must be on the occasions of Good days of life. The funny wishes and fun notes are sure to make their day brighter and make them laugh! Send them in greeting cards, by SMS, or via Facebook and Twitter!

Here you will find quick-links to specific sections and the complete list of funny birthday quotes and wishes.

funny birthday message to my best friend

You have many friends, but some of them have a special badge of a best friend, so they need special attention, more time to spend with them and priority over others in your life. If you want to wish them well on their special day, here are some great happy birthday funny messages to make them smile.

1.Wish you a happy birthday, sweetheart, and keep smiling until I have enough evidence to send you to the mental asylum.

2.Use these funny happy birthday quotes to wish someone a very happy birthday and poke fun at their age. You can use them in a card message, a Facebook caption, or even a t-shirt.

3.Statistics tell us you will live longer if you have the most birthdays (but it has also been proven that too many birthdays will kill you.

4. I know you are celebrating your birthday, but you can't stop your favorite food items from being right in front of you.

5.Happy birthday! After all those years and yet another year, you still haven't become wiser.

6.On your birthday, you can always depend on me to let loose with a night to remember in the morning.

7. Do not let age catch you down... it is too hard to bounce back!

8.On your birthday, I have something gluten-free, completely calorie-free, and absolutely delightful gift. Guess, what I have for you? Yes, you are right... It's a text message!

9. The kind of friend I am, I forgot your age.

10. I can't believe how fast time flies when you're having fun! When did we get so old?

11. The fact that we managed to keep this friendship going despite generational differences is wonderful.

Funny messages and wishes for girlfriend.

Having a girlfriend is a privilege no one must forget to wish on special occasions, and everyone would like to do something out of the ordinary to strengthen the bond of friendship and love.

It seems that funny happy birthday messages do the job perfectly. A good and funny note can put your lover's smile on her face and this is the ultimate goal of greeting them. Here is a compilation of some fine wishes messages for your girlfriend.

12. The one and only time I lied to you was when I said I'd love you forever, but realized that i couldn't live that long..

13. Last night, I dreamed of you while hugging my pillow. I wish one day I could dream about my pillow and be hugging you.

14. Regardless of what economists may say, you are the only one for me. There is no one else I can replace you with.

15. If my eyes are bothering me, I can't remove them from you.

16. Falling from the sky or a tree is fine, but the finest way to fall in love is with you! Happy Birthday my sweetheart.

17. The proverb goes wrong that a picture is worth a thousand words, but after looking at yours, I have no words to describe!

18. I'm no gambler, but I guess I'm just betting with my heart and mind that I will never stop loving you.

19. Too much smiling has caused me to develop wrinkles. Stop being so lovely! It drives me crazy..

20. It's evident that I adore you, from the sparkle in your eyes.

21. I hope your birthday is as awesome as your hair in high school.

You may check out: 71 Birthday Wishes in Unique Style- Best Bday messages

Best humorous wishes for boyfriend

22. We will lock up our hearts together and toss away the key; I give my heart to you; do give yours to me.

23. Because monopoly is always harmful and competition is always beneficial, it makes sense to have many crushes and flirts instead of just one true love! An economic theory on love.

24.  Whenever we're together, you make me feel so young. Thank you for being the first.

25. It's a pleasure to celebrate the birthday of someone I hope will be my friend, even when we're too senile to remember each other's birthdays.

26. Happy birthday to a person who is charming and talented, as well as witty, and is much like myself.

27. It is your birthday, so we will eat fired up baked goods and sing at you while you sit there awkwardly.

28. Happy birthday. Thanks for being older than me all your life.

29. Wishing you a unique birthday wish every year would be difficult. Choosing a special wish for next year would be even more challenging, so I'll just say happy birthday.

30. Despite the truth that today would be a perfect time to write sweet words about my best friend in the world, I already finished my autobiography a month ago.

Happy birthday funny messages for brother

Depending on your brother's personality and what type of relationship you have with him, these next funny birthday wishes for brothers could be just the thing for you to give him a laugh on his birthday too!

Hoping that these happy birthday funny messages will amaze your dear brother on his birthday, so keep scrolling to choose the perfect one.

31.That's all you really need for a gift. Just saying. Happy birthday!

32. Although it's hard to understand why we're celebrating your day since only mom did all the efforts. Happy birthday!

33. I am amazed at how long we have tolerated each other. Happy Birthday.

34. Your birthday falls at just the right age. You are old enough to see your mistakes, but still young enough to make more. Happy Birthday!

35. Wishing you a happy birthday! Hope you have a day as beautiful as a unicorn farting rainbows!

36. Hey big bro! They say that as you get older your intellect grows, but since we keep doing the same stupid thing we did as kids, we must be the exception to that rule.

37. It's my brother's birthday and he's smart, funny, witty, charming… and a lot like me!

38. I'm glad you're finally 21 and can finally do all those things you've been doing since you were 16! Happy birthday!

39. There's only one person you can be completely idiotic with through thick and thin. So glad I have you, bro! Have a great birthday!

40. After searching the web for 3 hours, I gave up trying to find the perfect birthday message for you. Happy Birthday.

41. When I thought about what I would get you for your birthday, I realized you already have me. Thank you very much. Happy birthday!

You may check out the amazing article

Funny happy birthday wishes for a lil sister

Finding funny happy birthday wishes for your younger sister has never been easier, with a wide selection of funny greetings, funny jokes, and wishes. We have all the best, cute, beautiful, and sweet words to bring a smile to your little angel's face.

42. I wish you a very happy birthday to the sassiest, coolest, and funniest little sister in the world!

43. Congratulations on your birthday, little sister, you may have always been smarter than me, but you have always been my best friend.

44. I will always love you for being my little monkey, but you've grown up, happy birthday Lil sister

45. My parents never gave me a pet before you were born, but after you were born I finally got a pet. Happy birthday, Sister I hope you never grow up.

46. You are not only funny but also crazy, just like your sister. No one else has a sister like you. Happy Birthday.

47. Thank you for being the most competitive person I have ever encountered in my life. Why couldn't you accept my win against you? I didn't understand. Happy Birthday my little sister

48. Happy Birthday, sis. I will always think of you as my silly little sister, no matter how tall or wise you get.

49. I love you, dear one, and I will love you until the very end. Despite your age, it doesn't mean you are any better or worse off than I am. I love you.

50. You have indeed given me nerves of steel, Happy Birthday little sister.

Happy birthday funny wishes for father

Regardless of your age, dad always celebrates your birthday well. Now, it's his turn to celebrate and have a great party! Use the best Funny Birthday Wishes for Father to show how much you respect the humor and zest for life your dad possesses. Your father is the best man you know, so give him a happy birthday celebration with Funny Birthday Wishes for Father he'll remember and love!

51. I know it's not an easy job being a dad, but it's done with class and style. Happy birthday to the father who does it all.

 52. Your schedule is just like that of a student with a lot of classes. Happy birthday, Dad!

53. Happy birthday dad, I'm sorry I can't be there to wish you a happy birthday in person, but please know that I think of you on your special day. Thanks for everything you do! Can't wait to see you again!

54. Here's a fun fact-you're not getting older, but you take great pleasure in making bad jokes. Enjoy more of those, Dad, and happy birthday!

55. Having said that, I know that today is your birthday, but that does not make it a holiday, so I'm not too excited about it. Just kidding. Happy birthday to an important man!

56. It's been a week since I thought of what to write in a funny birthday message for you. But I couldn't think of anything funny. Happy birthday!

57. Your mother told me that, even though you're getting older, you're not becoming any wiser. You should be grateful for the information she shared with you. Just kidding.

Happy birthday funny messages for husband

It makes sense, then, that, at least once every three hundred and sixty-five days, we owe ourselves something special. And on those days, consciously or subconsciously, we all crave to be celebrated by others. It is especially important to celebrate our spouse's birthday every year. After all, our spouse is our better half. Who else will do it?

58. You transformed everything about companionship when we met. It still amazes me how amazing you remain throughout our marriage. Happy birthday, dear husband.

 59. I count my blessings twofold, honey because you brought light and fragrance into my life on the hardest of days. Happy birthday to you, love.

60. I wish you the most beautiful days of your life because you are the most amazing human ever. Have a great day, my prince charming.

61. Even if I were reincarnated as a woman multiple times and found you every time, I would never marry anyone else. Happy birthday to you.

62. Thank you for being devoted, supportive, enthusiastic, compassionate, creative, strong and resourceful. You are an amazing human being and I love you more than anything.

63. I feel safe and prepared for any obstacle with you by my side. You are a fantastic teammate, and I love you for that. Happy birthday, dear.

64. I celebrate you every day, so there is no need to limit my celebration to one day. But let me take this opportunity to remind you how deeply I love you. Happy birthday, dear!

Best birthday messages and wishes for Mother

Whether you agree or disagree with me, mothers are the best! If the mother you have is not your best, that's huge! Mothers are truly God's gift to us. Mothers know how to shed tears and smile when necessary. They give so freely for you when no one else will. They sacrifice a lot to make you happy. Mothers are gold! They deserve the best! 65. Despite being the best mom in the world, I can't express how much I love you enough to wish you an amazing birthday.

66. I appreciate how patient and loving you have been with me. Thank you for letting me wish you a wonderful birthday.

67. It is the greatest honor of my life to celebrate my mother's birthday. She is the most wonderful mother a person could ask for.

68. Cheers to a terrific birthday and a successful year to come for the best mom in the world.

69. In return, I wish you all the happiness on your birthday. I am extremely lucky to have a mother like you who is caring, kind, and giving.

70. Mom is a great mother who brought me into this world and has loved me ever since. And to your mom for bringing you into this world, which gave us the opportunity to celebrate your birthday today.

71. Having been born to you makes me feel more blessed than I could not imagine. Happy birthday to my great Mom

72. Your love and guidance led me to where I am today, and I would like to express my gratitude for your birthday.

73. My mom, you always put in a lot of effort to make this day special, but now it's my turn to make it memorable.

Happy birthday funny note for wife

After spending a long time married to one's sweetheart, you might want to express your gratitude, show your love and give her additional attention whenever there is another reason to celebrate. On her birthday, you will obviously want to look for a unique present, yet it is important that you also share your thoughts.

If your wife doesn't want a physical gift, or if you don't have one, here are dozens of birthday wishes for her that you can use as inspiration or use as is. It's the acknowledgment or attention she gets from you that really makes her birthday magical.

74. It is the one day out of the year I put my wife's mother-in-law in my prayers. Happy birthday, sweetheart!

75. PI is like how much I love you, darling wife: endless and never-ending.

76. Unless I use Nutella on my toast or ice cream on my apple pie, I wouldn't eat my honeybun without you. Happy Birthday, my beautiful wife.

77. The only thing better than bacon… and that's a lot… is my love for you.

78. Thank you for being the only copilot I'd ever want. Happy Birthday

79. Happy Birthday to my beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent wife! I am lucky enough to be your husband…but you only surpassed my luck by being mine!

Funny wishes for daughter's birthday

Here you will find an impressive range of heartwarming happy birthday funny messages for daughters to inspire you. Whether you're looking for a short message to send or a thoughtful card, you'll find something here to suit your needs.

80. Our beautiful daughter celebrated her birthday today! We love you so much, Mom and Dad!

81. Getting you the best present possible makes my day complete. Wish you a day filled with sunshine, rainbows, laughter, and fun!

82. Happy birthday to our daughter, we wish you all the best.

83. We are so happy to have you in our lives, Sweetie! We're so glad you're kind, fun, and crazy!

84. My dear daughter, I hope your day is as wonderful as you are, as shiny as your doll’s grin. Thanks for everything.

85. Having you in it makes the world a better place! Although we need to be smarter in handling you and our dishes has been a challenge. Happy birthday, lovely daughter!

86. Thank you for being such an amazing friend and we wish you a wonderful birthday. Love from Mom and Dad 

87. I love having you as a daughter. Thank you for being mine. Happy birthday darling, love from Mom.

Birthday funny wishes for daughter-in-law

You can find so many amazing funny happy birthday wishes and messages for your daughter-in-law right here on our website. Make sure you take advantage of them and send them to her!

You can pick from our extensive collection of original birthday wishes to transform your beloved daughter-in-law’s birthday into an unforgettable experience she will cherish for years to come.

88. It's a wonderful birthday wish to a daughter-in-law blessed to have such a great mother and father-in-law.

89. Thank you so much for not being a malicious daughter-in-law towards me on your birthday, dearest. I can't thank you enough.

90. Thank you so much for putting my son on the map. Without you, he would certainly be nothing - just as teens would be nothing without smartphones and social media accounts. Happy birthday!

91. The idea that daughter-in-laws are wicked and difficult is wrong. May the good Lord bless you abundantly for not being a witchy in-law. Have a great birthday.

92. Have a wonderful birthday! Did you know that science-backed studies have proven over and over again that too many birthdays lead to premature death?

93. While we celebrate your birthday, dear daughter-in-law, I find my mind wondering about the rumors that you were so old your first car was a covered wagon. I hope you will take this opportunity to clarify that issue once and for all!

humorous birthday messages for Mother-in-law

Birthdays are the most glorious days on earth and so, without doubt, they are always special to the individual who celebrates them. So, a funny message of happy birthday and a lovely wish to your MIL on her birthday would really make her happy and tell her that you love her, too.

94. In honor of your birthday, I am sending you a belated birthday message. I hope you accept it ma.

95. Enjoy your birthday, no matter how noisy we are. May you find the energy and patience to put up with our annoying habits. Happy birthday.

96. How wonderful my mother-in-law is, she is just terrific, and I'm sure she will serve me a bottle of Fanta today.

97. Mother-in-law, I couldn't have given you a better birthday gift than the precious daughter you gave me. I can only strive to be the son you never had. Happy birthday, mom!

98. You seem to be defying the laws of aging; you seem to be turning back the clock. If there is some secret to this, please share it with me. Happy birthday.

99. Lastly, I want you to know I really appreciate you not executing me while I slept for taking your precious daughter and I am so thankful I still have a wonderful mother-in-law.

How to wish your boss in a funny tone?

A leader's job can be challenging, but it can also be rewarding. Keeping clients satisfied and having respect from employees is important for success on the job. You should let your boss know he/she is appreciated and that you are happy to work together, especially on his/her birthday. You will not only make your boss's day more exciting by sending happy birthday funny messages, but you may even brighten your own, as well.

100. During this intensive year, your support has been vital to many people and the company. Thank you for everything you do.

101. You are an example of all that is good in this company, and I see you making smart decisions all the time that benefit both the company and our clients. You truly are a great role model for us all.

102. We are so grateful to you for being such a blessing in our lives! You are a treat and a blessing.

103. Congratulations on your birthday to someone who makes every day go by without any bumps and plenty of laughter!

104. Let's take this day to honor you and your excellent leadership!

105. Your leadership stands out! Happy birthday and here's to many more years of fabulous leadership!

106. What does it matter if we don't visit you anymore? It's true! You're the best boss around.

107. What does it matter if we don't visit you anymore? It's true! You're the best boss around.

Funny happy birthday to co-worker

If you work together with unity and uniformity for 8+ hours daily, then you have spent one-third of your life together with your colleague. Your colleague also needs to be congratulated on their birthday with funny happy birthday messages.

108. Throughout your life, I wish you many adventures, heartfelt moments, and many more milestones. Happy Birthday.

109. You make this place tolerable - and that is hard to do! Happy Birthday! Come grab some lunch or drinks soon!

110. A birthday is a reminder that the world is waiting for you to dream, to move forward, to fulfill your dreams. Happy birthday!

111. Congratulations, we're not sure how old you are yet. Only you, God, and Human Resources know your true age.

112. I am honored to work with you, thank you so much for all of your help and guidance, and I wish you a happy birthday.

113. Progress is a matter of faith, unity, and patience. I wish you great success as long as you hold onto these principles. Happy Birthday.

114. Congratulations to my wonderful coworker who celebrates his or her bi-annual birthday today! Good luck and happiness in the years to come!

115. Congratulations to our very special colleague. Wishing you and your family the most abundant blessings and may your life always be filled with joy.

funny happy birthday thank you message

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