#i might return to making full time ego content

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[sharedramblings]

Staying After

Summary: This is the first time you've stayed the night ever since your little arrangement with Larissa.

Prompt: "I'm so glad you stayed the night." from this Morning After prompt list I've read.

Contains: fwb, nudity, implied smut

Author's note: What's this? I don't know either but it's what came to mind when I saw the prompt. And with this one out, I now only have one thing left in my drafts.

—-—-

You slowly stir from what's likely the best slumber you've ever had, legs tangling further with the woman beside you. Your head rests near her collarbone and you can feel the warmth her body radiates with the little space between the two of you.

"I'm glad you stayed the night" she murmured from above you, voice still hoarse from sleep. You basked in her presence, the fingers that rest on your back were persistent on drawing circles in your skin.

You hummed before answering, your voice tinged with the teasing tone she's all too familiar with. "You didn't gave me much of a choice with the way you're hugging me last night"

She gently pushed you away, scoffing at your response.

"For someone who clearly loved it, you're unbelievably cocky" Larissa retorts, knowing full well you nestled further in her side as sleep takes you.

"Who told you I did?"

"You're free to go then. Leave, and make sure you bring with you your astounding ego. Shoo" she nudged you farther, hands sending you away, face alight with mischief.

"I'm kidding! Please stop sending me away, it's cozy in here." You chuckle, fighting to get back to her space. "I'm glad I stayed too."

She didn't put up much of a fight after that, content with your admission. She let you embrace her this time as she lay on her back, eyes staring at the ceiling above.

"Your bed really is the best, whether it be for refreshing sleep or mind-blowing sex. I might steal it from you, Rissa"

"Just because we're friends doesn't mean I won't report you, thief" She chose not to comment on your thoughts about her bed's purposes, preventing her mind from thinking about the sensual night you two shared, about the moans and pleasure that occurred in her bedroom.

You fake a betrayed gasp, lifting your head to look at her. "You could just buy another"

She raised an eyebrow in return, "so could you but here you are, resorting to theft instead"

You decided to make face in response to her answer, earning you a pillow smacked right in your face.

"Hey!" You both laugh, silence filling the room right after.

"Maybe I could convince you in some other way?" You playfully raise your eyebrows up and down as you look at her, one hand caressing her arm.

"Dork"

"I'm a DILF" Larissa gave you a baffled look. What on earth are you onto now?

"Dork you'd like to fuc–"

"Okay that's enough." She immediately cut you off as she caught on the last part of that statement, and you can't help the entertained chuckle you let out.

"As if you weren't doing me last night, which, you're an expert of, by the way" She groaned at that. You're insufferable. Why did she let you stay?

Your arrangement with Larissa brings you to her bed whenever she needs, providing her with the relief and pleasure she sometimes craves. You're not blind to the appeal Larissa possesses; on the contrary, you're actually heavily affected by it, by her. So if she wanted a no strings attached relationship, then you're more than willing to deliver.

This was the first time you've slept with her– in the literal sense of the word. An hour after you're both satisfied was always spent catching your breaths, taking care of each other, and conversing just a bit, and then you're off to your own quarters. The warmth which envelops your being right now is something you know borders in dangerous territory, but you're not ready to deal with it yet. Maybe next time.

You get up with a grunt, not caring to cover your naked form. "Coffee or Tea?"

Larissa watched you for a while before sitting up, wrapping the blanket in her body. She chose the latter, and you nodded, padding your way to her kitchen.

"Coming right up, my lady." Sure, it's your first time sleeping in, but you've been sharing meals with her enough in this very house to know where her items are stored.

"For heaven's sake, wear something first"

You turned back to her with a grin on your face, shrugging at her. "Eh, nothing you haven't seen and drooled over, Rissa"

She just huffed and rolled her eyes before a smile appeared on her lips at your antics, staring at the door despite you no longer occupying the space. You're both aware that a line has been crossed, but neither of you acknowledged it. You spending the night is just a one time thing.

... Definitely.

[entropyvoid]

HKVH Fic Recs List

I had such a stupid amount of tabs full of HKVH fics open that I was reluctant to close, that I decided to just bite the bullet and compile a list of fic recs. And I figured if I was going to do that, I may as well share them. Unorganized and in no particular order.

every good intention (is interpolation)

A month after Alhaitham has gone missing, Kaveh finds a journal when rumaging through his things. The journal is encrypted in an ancient script that few know, and the only reason Kaveh does,
is because Alhaitham had him learn it during their shared project in the Akademiya.

Below are the transcripts.

Alhaitham character study, angsty with a happy ending, might come for your kneecaps if you’ve got autism feels™

Flower Language, Sickly Sweet

It would not happen. Not ever. Not with the way they always fight, nor the way Haitham subtly knocks his ego down a peg, nor the way Haitham ignores his presence altogether when he doesn't feel like entertaining Kaveh’s whims. It’s not the actions of a man in love. Kaveh would know. He’s been in love for years.

He’d only just recently accepted it, but it is true, undeniably so, and a sick sort of dread had crept up his stomach ever since he figured it out. Not the fluttering butterflies of an innocent crush, but the weight of knowledge that can never be shared.

Boundaries. He reminds himself. Essential for a healthy bond.

Kaveh starts coughing up Padisarah petals just as his life starts turning around—of course this would happen, with his luck.

Hanahaki fic with a happy ending.

Spend A Little Too Much Time Together

Kaveh finds a young Rtawahist scholar breaking down in the corner of Lambad's, and makes the best mistake of his life: adopting her with Alhaitham.

Found family fluff with some funny moments.

truck, barter, and trade

People keep coming up to Kaveh to congratulate him. Kaveh doesn’t really know why, and he’s a little too scared to ask at this point, so he heads back home, content if not a little bemused.

He is, unfortunately, reminded of it the very next day, when the door slams open and Al-Haitham stalks in. “Mind telling me why everyone was congratulating me today?” he demands. “About your pregnancy?"

Or: Al-Haitham is, without a doubt, the most annoying person Kaveh knows. Maybe the world’s second-most annoying person can help Kaveh figure him out.

Another comedic and fluffy found family fic with Kaveh and Alhaitham accidentally adopting someone, but this time the child is Wanderer.

hemlock lovers

He pulls out his cards, and then Kaveh watches as Alhaitham pauses for a second, blinking quickly. Like trying to focus his eyesight. He had only had two glasses, hadn’t he? Surely Alhaitham wasn’t already feeling the alcohol. He was not a lightweight like Kaveh was.

A night in the Tavern goes awry, fast.

Sickfic, Alhaitham gets poisoned.

…and they were roommates

Kaveh is looking for his keys. Al Haitham is a brat. And Nahida? Well, Nahida knows her things. In words of General Mahamatra: being roommates always meant somehing more interesting.

Short and comedic.

Like This

Alhaitham wakes and recognizes not the maroon of his wine nor the crimson cover of tonight’s text, but the garnet of irises near enough to his own that he can clearly see the flicks of obsidian within them. This is the common room, he realizes. He has fallen asleep here while reading often enough for that thought to come easily. All others, unfortunately, ping uselessly against his consciousness like water droplets sliding over oiled skin. How can he think, in this situation? He has lifted a gaze blurred with sleep only to find Kaveh leaning over him — a hand braced somewhere on the back of the divan and a knee pressed into the cushion between Alhaitham’s thighs.

Or, in which Kaveh crosses the line between them and Alhaitham does not let him take it back.

fast as you can

“I returned to the tavern after I brought you home, found the man whose name you told me and punched him square in the face. Are you happy now?” Alhaitham leaned closer towards Kaveh. “Do you believe me?” There was a strange intensity to his eyes.
The unexpected honesty had Kaveh utterly confused. For a moment, he was quiet as he ran his fingers over his temples.
“I don't understand why you would do this for me. Is it to put me in even more debt? Don't I owe you enough already? Tighnari is convinced you did it for my sake.” He let out a dry laugh. “Unless you're like, secretly in love with me, there'd be no-” Kaveh's words, uttered without much thought, got stuck in his throat when for the shortest of moments, a conflicted expression ghosted over Alhaitham's face. Kaveh felt like the air was being pushed out of his lungs.
“W- what was that?!”

A Quiet Thing

Alhaitham cursed, clawing at the creature whose jaws were still firmly affixed around the delicate bones of his wing. He felt warm liquid rush down his hand as he pushed at the creature’s face, heart rate spiking as he realized it must be blood.

Then, a noise that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

Alhaitham obtains a grievous injury during an investigation, and learns to deal with the aftermath. Kaveh is there to help, but the road to recovery is not a smooth one.

Wingfic, injury/recovery and getting together, a bit on the longer side.

Scarlet Sands and Crimson Eyes

Inspired by the movies Hush (2016) and Revenge (2017)

During a mission out into the desert to round-up an extremist group being led by one of the former Sages, Alhaitham's headphones are destroyed. He decides to stay behind through the night to fix them, but gets ambushed by leftovers of the Eremites and dragged across the desert. He gets nearly assaulted, thrown off a cliff, impaled on a tree, stabbed, and shot, and all the while can't stop thinking about Kaveh. It must be because he didn't want to die while Kaveh was still living under his roof, right?

Deaf!Alhaitham fic, dude goes through it but it a badass. Pretty long but will have you on the edge of your seat the whole time.

Appeal to Stone, Ascend to the Skies

“So much for solidarity,” Alhaitham said.

“You’re not even on your own side, you harpy,” Kaveh grumbled in reply.

Alhaitham unexpectedly wakes up with wings, and must learn to come to terms with absurdity.

12 chapter wingfic, a bit of a character study for both of them (but mostly focusing on Alhaitham.)

Wine Red

A scene has been on replay in Al-Haitham's head for the past two weeks, so vivid that it only seemed like yesterday that it happened.

It began like this: Kaveh was absolutely hammered at the bar, and although Al-Haitham had reservations about bringing him home with him, the tavern owner begged him to take his roommate home. And so, Al-Haitham had an arm slung over his shoulder, supporting Kaveh as he stumbled like a newborn foal, quiet and dazed.

“Pretty.”

And with that one tiny, drunkenly made compliment from Kaveh, his daily routine was thrown into disarray.

OR: Al-Haitham has feelings, disregards them, but is forced to confront them anyways. How lovely it is to be in love with your roommate. Hurrah.

testing, testing

When Kaveh discovers that Alhaitham has been reading a book about human sexuality and kinks, he generously offers to assist Alhaitham with some sexual exploration. It’s a risky proposal, and one that could end very badly—thanks to their falling-out years ago, the two of them have trust issues galore.

But it turns out that Kaveh and Alhaitham are surprisingly good at trust and communication when it comes to sex…which raises some questions about the nature of their relationship, and where exactly this whole experiment is leading them.

“Look,” Kaveh says, “if you’re going to approach sexual pleasure like an experiment, most potential partners won’t take too kindly to the idea of you having sex with them for science. Therefore, to spare all the poor people you’d inevitably insult in your quest for data, I am willing to be that person.”

“How charitable of you,” Alhaitham says.

“And I assume that you’re somewhat comfortable with the idea of having sex with me,” Kaveh adds, “or else you wouldn’t have been so willing to have my fingers in your mouth just now.”

but what would you do if I went to touch you now?

Al Haitham directs half-lidded eyes at Kaveh, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, his sweater stretching over the planes of his torso as he raises his arms to lay his head on his hands. Kaveh finds the charcoal and resists the urgent need to tell Al Haitham to stay still so he can capture him like this, made up of shadows and comfort. “I suppose having a rope doing the work for me would be best for the mental and physical effort of it. I commend you for thinking of that.”

“Don’t flatter me now,” Kaveh half-heartedly protests, wincing slightly. It’s so odd when Al Haitham does that; as much as Kaveh complains about him being rude, there’s nothing more off-putting than Al Haitham’s backhanded idea of compliments. Finally pulling out the cotton rope, Kaveh sighs and makes eye contact with him, shaking the item in his hand. “You might hate this.”

“I might like it,” Al Haitham refutes, raising an eyebrow. Kaveh struggles to justify the little jolt from his heart at the idea.

-------------------------

In which Al Haitham (rather charitably) allows Kaveh to use him as a model for his art projects, Kaveh has an idea, and it all spirals from there.

The Dragon Rises in Wartime

The anonymous complaints confessions of a long-suffering Sumeru resident regarding his horrible roommate and his one-man war against said horrible roommate's purchase of the ugliest bed in all of Teyvat.

Although really, the most important question here probably is:

Why are you sleeping in your roommate's bed?

A really funny reddit-post style fic, with a little bit of explicit recordings on the side.

[eluxcastar]

Leona in his Uncle arc because I can and will

── ୨୧：leona kingscholar & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: Leona being the cool Uncle.png mostly just fluff hcs of him caring for them more than he will admit it's kinda scatterbrained because same

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: (implied) child reader, it's just platonic fluff tbh

୨୧﹑words :: 724

well here we go ig turns out the first everything I write for a fandom is Uncle hcs 🤨 shoutout to my Uncle ig? where did this phenomenon come from (ﾟ▽ﾟ*) anyway Leona seems like he'd play bite baby's lil lion ears when they're misbehaving to scare them like an "I'm gonna call the boogeyman" type thing 😭✋ I rest my case

when you were young enough to have to crawl around the floor Leona found watching you to be much easier to some extent, though he did not appreciate having his hair pulled on and chewed and is still weary every time you try to grab his hair.

thankfully years of pulling your tail and threatening to steal it has deterred you from that. Going home over break is sometimes hell, sometimes not. It's better than when there are events that allow outside guests to come and see them as Leona knows you'll be so full of energy and so excited to see him. He just can't bring himself to throw you off after you jump on him and latch onto his arm. Annoying perhaps but he finds your affections to be endearing at the best of times. Seeing you get so excited to see him more so than he's ever seen you to return to your Father strokes his ego just a little bit.

he just doesn't quite like the part where you complain that you write to him all the time and "Are getting way better at writing the letters now" in your own words, but don't ever get a response, then it becomes the questions of "When are you coming home?" and Leona has to shake you off and send you back on your way as he makes up some excuse about your Father worrying about you.

he does enjoy spending time with you much more when you're controllable, especially at bedtime when Leona begrudgingly agrees to tell you stories or lets you crawl into his bed under his blankets and curl up at his side where it's warm. Leona much prefers this arrangement, though he will yawn and complain that you're getting too big to be there and taking up all the space on the bed. The worst part is waking up to your little hands shaking him, usually because you want something and can't reach it, or just don't know how. You might just be lazy like him.

the little whines for your Uncle to get up are annoying at the best of times, but Leona finds himself unable to resist when you pull at his arms with all your strength. You could never hope to pull him up on your own but the dedication to get him out of bed sways him for just a few minutes.

when Leona comes home over the holidays he makes sure to make sure that if you want to be attached to him you're at least taken care of: teeth brushed, properly bathed, fed, ears and tail groomed, socks on at all times. If you don't he'll ship you back to Falena in his own words. Every time you challenge him at that with some remark about how "How are you gonna ship me back to Dad?" always met with "In a box" and Leona frankly doesn't care when you tell him that's against the rules (which you probably only know because you tried to ship Cheka somewhere).

Leona tends to problem solve that by pulling you down onto the floor and tickling you in his lap so you'll forget that and justify the need for you to wear socks all the time by kicking at his arms until he stops. Without the socks you always scratch him. He can hand the gnawing on his hands when you bite. Leona isn't fond of going out, just staying in and letting you play until you start to get tired, inviting you to take a nap with him even in the middle of the day.

he often tells you that it doesn't matter what you do with your time, since you're also the second child like he once was, but tries his best to pay attention to your studies and support you to try anyway. Leona's point is never really to become as lazy as him, but to become something other than just an heir. "It'll make you feel better than a throne" is his only reason, maybe that's why you like him so much. 'Other things' is a bit big to think about though. Even if Leona is not really King outside of his school unlike your Father is, you might like him better. Being something like a real King sounds super boring anyway.

[solradguy]

Mr. Rad Guy, I've wanted to get your opinion on something for a while now, and finally snagged what I was looking for on twitter. I normally don't pay any of those transphobic Bridget discourse peddlers any mind, but they bring up her appearence in the canon pachinko game Vastege as supposed "proof" that Strive's story direction for her is a contradictory retcon. This game's plot takes place just three months before Xrd's, and they claim that through her voicelines she is still insisting sternly that she's a man and not to call her cute, but also that she STILL hasn't broken her village's superstition at this point in time. This is the only image they ever have as so-called evidence, so I wanted to see if you know if these lines are legitimately in the game, scrapped content, or made up altogether. I don't trust these lunatics as far as I can throw them when it comes to telling the whole truth 🤨

This screenshot is from same manuscript of dialog that is in the lore server archives and in the GG VXT archive pack that I compiled and uploaded to Archive.org. As far as I know, these lines were all used in the game and no unused lines have been (or even could be) datamined. Two of the lines here are highlighted so I'm assuming they're the ones these dorks are using to try to prove their point. I've translated them.

First line:

I want to break the village's rule/law*, and return to the village as a young man.

*In the official localizations I think they might translate this as "tradition" or "superstition" instead of rule or law.

"Young man" in that line is 男の子 (otokonoko). Do not let anyone convince you Bridget is using the other otokonoko there (男の娘；"young man with a feminine aesthetic"). They like to do that a lot, argue that it's the one that uses 娘.

Second line:

Cute is uncalled for... I'm a man.

In conclusion: Yes. Bridget is using almost 1:1 recycled dialog in Vastedge that she used in XX and the spinoffs. The Twitter grifters' Google Translating was correct this time.

Vastedge's plot may take place only 3 months before Xrd, but Vastedge itself came out in 2013—8 entire years before Strive released in 2021. A lot can change in 3 months in real life, but after almost a decade most people are entirely different altogether (wrt Daisuke and his plot decisions). Also it's a friggin pachislot machine lmfao Like, are people really expecting something as earth shattering as a character as irrelevant to the general plot like Bridget suddenly stopping all of the action to explore her identity on a slot machine? I have no patience for these people anymore. They're just stupid and arguing because they have no hobbies.

There's also the fact that Daisuke originally planned for Bridget to be a cis girl until the very last minute. So if anything her coming out in Strive was just returning to the starting concept. He mentions this in the interview in the back of Artworks of Guilty Gear X 2000-2004. Translation by fairymisao.

(27)---The character Bridget, introduced in Guilty Gear XX, looks like a girl but is actually a boy, right? What was your intention in deciding on creating this kind of character? Ishiwatari: The creation of Bridget as a boy happened at the very last second; during development I was drawing him as purely a girl. It's just that when there is a need to give a worldly backbone (to the game), in order for me to try to not forget each character, and in order to revive the character, I give them my very heart. As a result, the creation of Bridget as actually a boy instead of a girl was because I thought he could become my alter ego. [...]

It's also important to note that Vastedge was the first thing ASW made for Guilty Gear after getting the full rights to the IP back from Sega after the Sega-Sammy merger in 2011 (which they had started to lose a bit before Overture's release in 2004). They were absolutely more focused on making something that would generate income and looked flashy than they were a compelling cinematic experience.

[storiesconsumemysoul]

Okay, there is a lot here I want to address so sorry for the monstrous length of this response.

I can understand characterizing him as selfish in his first separation from his family in order to participate in an unnecessary war in the name of cultural norms and ego. I get that. But characterizing his return to the farm as selfish is, no offense, entirely bonkers to me.

"He stormed into his wife’s life, blindly looking for her and his son, with no regard to her current situation nor what his demands could bring upon her" -> a) for us to say that he had no regard for her situation and what his "demands" could bring upon her presumes that he knows anything about her situation to begin with. All he knows is that she is enslaved in that nearby farm. And that she would, obviously, like to not be. That's it. He has none of the information we do about the delicate balancing act she's forced into on a daily basis. Besides his mental state (which you touch on and I will return to address in a bit) this man is very injured and not likely to find proper shelter, medical care, rest, food, and water or much of anything else he might need in the area without being noticed and bringing more slavers/enforcers his way since they were already on the lookout for him. He didn't have the time or opportunity to plan out his rescue better armed with more info and resources. He had a limited window to act in quickly with his best shot to save Arnheid while he still had the ability to make that attempt and he took it.

Which b) that is a loving caring selfless act. Of course he wanted his family back, obviously, but he is also literally attempting to save HER from slavery! His experience of which is clearly very different than on Ketil's farm (though of course there is no such thing as a good slaver or good enslavement experience) and which informs his perspective on what horrors she must've endured already. A selfish person would have been content with the utter miracle of having freed himself and running as far away as he could while he could. It would have been so easy to convince himself that she might've been killed already or resold. He could've so easily convinced himself that she was not worth the risk of being enslaved again. That is what a selfish person would do. Understandably. Risking the freedom that you gained in a genuine one-in-a-million miracle in order to free a loved one from brutality and dehumanization? A loved one that you feel at least partially responsible for putting in this position in the first place? That is atonement and love and yearning and remorse and care and humanity. Going off to fight a senseless war for no reason was about centering his ego with no regard for his family but this return? This is about rectifying that mistake by centering them. There is nothing selfish about that. He is not responsible for how slavers and their violent enforcers responded to that act of desperate selflessness.

"It could be argued that he was out of it because it was clear his approach was far from the one anyone who was in their position and wanted to make it out alive would‘ve gone for." -> I've already addressed the logistical aspect of his attempt but I also want to address the mental state you're alluding to here. Everything from his mannerisms, speech, at times lack of presence in the moment, interactions, not quite processing or critically engaging with what he's being told, etc. all of it points to having previously suffered or currently being in the middle of a mental breakdown. So I agree, he is very clearly being portrayed as mentally unwell and not acting with his full faculties in the present. Now, we also get flashbacks showing us what he was like before everything that happened. And the difference between these two Gardars is a whole ocean. We also know that he didn't have some long illustrious career as a warrior out there. They were all enslaved relatively quickly after he left the family. So the change we see in him is definitely attributed to his time as a slave. To me, there is a clear purpose in portraying him as not mentally stable here. We have in total five enslaved characters that we deal directly with in this arc. Each of them represents and explores a different aspects of the arc's themes. A different facet of the harm that this violent system of war and slavery visits on people. For Gardar, amongst other things, it's tragically capturing the mental tole of this system. The shattered mind and soul of an enslaved man who has been brutalized, humiliated, and dehumanized by this system. Slavery, and all its enforcers and benefactors, dealt him so much harm he barely resembles the man from Arnheid's memories galivanting off to war gleefully. Showing us the devastating mental tole enslavement has visited on him is important to the critique of the systems of war and slavery, and the role that Thorfinn played in them, and that Snake STILL plays in.

In the face of all of that careful, thoughtful, deeply humane and empathetic characterization and thematic work by the story, I find the complete lack of empathy for him so disturbing honestly. Especially when it's obvious that for a lot people his humanity is being discarded in the name of refusing to critically engage with the actions of specific fan-favorite characters from this arc (which to be clear, I'm not applying that mentality to you here). I genuinely find the lack of nuance in discussing him, the dismissal of his experiences, and the callousness of it just so bizarre. Like no offense, but I genuinely don't get it.

I know I probably shouldn't be ... but I am still so bewildered by the utter lack of empathy for Gardar from most of the fanbase. Until maybe his dying moments. Like ... the number of people who talk about him as though he was the one forcing Snake's hand with violence is wild to me. Like y'all really just don't see what Snake's actual role is huh. His literal job people. Each time I see one of these posts it's like I just walked into the twilight zone.

[seagullsausage]

its time for an update ig

so i don’t think im gonna deactivate. im thinking about changing my username, but theres a lot of stuff on this blog, and a lot of memories that i dont wanna just throw away. what will i use this blog for? idk. to interact with friends, take asks, rb random stuff, post random life updates. the usual stuff. 

but i think a big thing im going to do is stop with ego-related content. it used to be fun chatting about the boys and such, but ive realized that it actually causes me a lot of anxiety among other reasons i dont wanna share. i will not be writing any more fanfic, and will probably either leave my writing blog as is, or repurpose it. ill be getting rid of some of my sideblogs as well.

i feel bad, since im one of the last people in my mutual circle who still liked these boys, but i simply can’t do it anymore. its less that ive lost interest, and again, for more mental health and personal reasons. its ok to be upset or sad at this, and im totally fine if u guys want to unfollow. i wont be completely severing myself from the community-if yall wanna send asks or messages about them, i will still answer them. ill still be interacting with the lovely content my mutuals make, and i will probably keep drawing the lads. i just wont be writing fics or making lore posts anymore. 

but with that out of the way, i would like to move on and work on other things, including my youtube channel, my art blog over at @sausageseagull, and maybe even my ego fusion side blog, @seagsfusionshowcase, so make sure you keep an eye on those. writing was fun, but id like to work more on my art, and work on some of my ocs/fusions/creative ideas that took a backburner to the egos. 

im feeling a little better today, my anxieties been waning and i feel like ive experienced a mini ego death regarding my internet persona. but, i think not focusing on ego content anymore is a good change for me, and im planning for fun and cool projects in the future. 

so if u didnt feel like reading this nonsensical post: 

im stayin around babeyyy

no more writing ego content; will still interact and maybe draw

cleaning out side blogs 

follow my art and fusion blogs for more content coming soon 👀 

also my yt channel that i keep wanting to do more with

im doing fine now ig

thats it that was the big update post

ok yall can move on with ur day

[lys1]

Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words. 

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

[dokoni-mo]

She Truly Was || Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader

Summary: Enmu helps Muzan remember you.

SFW // Fluff with small amounts of Angst

Word Count: 4626

WARNINGS: *slight Mugen Train spoilers*, slight mentions of implied sexual activity, obsessive(?) behavior, Muzan is soft for one person only, some angst, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, I also barely proofread this lol

A/N: I've had this in my head for a while and decided to write it down. This is largely just a compilation of scenarios I made in my head to fall asleep at night when I was stressing over exams and stuff, all loosely thrown together with a plot. This is my first time writing for demon slayer, so please be patient! I also am basing a lot of my info about the characters on s1 of the anime, some of the manga, and the wiki. I apologize if something isn't accurate. tldr; I just think he's neat.

~~

Despite having lived through thousands of years with hundreds of stormy nights in the midst, Muzan Kibutsuji never learned to appreciate them.

Something about nights like those in Japan just never sat right with the demon. It wasn't that they were too dreary, not at all. Life as a demon was plenty dreary. On the other hand, it wasn't that they were to lively either. No one ever went out on stormy nights; demon or not. Perhaps it was just because the rain was another reminder of the singularity that was being a demon. The poignant pitter patter just seemed to have a way of whispering to whoever heard it, telling them the most unpleasant yet quiet truths of their lives.

After Muzan's bloody meeting with the lower moons, he had told Enmu his task Muzan had planned for the pitiful, weaker demon. Although he had doubts that Enmu could hear him over the sound of the weaker demon's screams of pain from the blood he gave, Muzan was pleasantly surprised when Enmu understood the orders the first time around. Seeing as though it would cause trouble if the lower moon started to go around bragging about his newfound power and job, Muzan decided it would be best to keep a crimson eye on the demon.

This is what led to the scene before Muzan now.

Muzan had taken Enmu back to one of his many properties scattered across Japan, this one being tucked away in a lush, quiet forest in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The lower moon had not said a word throughout the entire journey there, and still refused to say anything now. Most likely out of fear.

Although it had been a long day of wrangling the lesser worms he called pawns (or "moons" if he was generous), Muzan did not want to show any weakness towards Enmu by resting. To busy himself, Muzan decided to do the tedious work the humans have him do in the job he took to please his human wife.

That insufferable woman.

With his bowler hat placed on his desk, Muzan had taken a seat in his large, leather chair, ordering Enmu to stand at the edge of the desk and face the opposite way. And, for extra edge, he was not to say or do anything.

It had been about two hours since then. The room was filled with only the sounds of Muzan's writing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Although he ordered it to be that way, Muzan was already sick of it.

Peering his red eyes up from the papers scrawled below him, Muzan fixated his bone-chilling gaze upon the back of Enmu's head. Muzan could see the corners of the lower moon's mouth turned upwards as he faced the wall, presenting himself with an expression of dumb content.

Freak.

Enmu was definately a curious specimen. So eager to die, yet so eager to please Muzan. The demon lord would have been confused if he were not who he was.

Perhaps it was his own boredom setting in, perhaps it was because he wanted to feed his already gargantuan ego, or perhaps it was just because he was tired, Muzan decided to speak up.

"Tell me," Muzan said, his deep, smooth voice making Enmu perk up slightly, "Why is it that are you so loyal to me?"

Enmu took this as an opportunity to finally move, but not without some caution. The lower demon only turned his neck towards Muzan, along with a tilt of his shoulder. Muzan noted the disobedience of orders, but decided to let it slide this time.

The rain must have told him to be generous that night.

"Why, Master Kibustsuji," Enmu said, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, "It is because I am so delighted to be in your presence, and have my power be of service to you."

The demon lord felt his jaw clench at this, his red eyes peering up at the lower moon from under his abyssal lashes. Although Enmu had an... odd, way of putting things, Muzan always did like it when someone stroked his ego, even if all they ever said was the same banter over and over again. He was nearly perfection, afterall.

Muzan sat quietly and pondered Enmu's response for a second, before formulating his own.

"Your power, as you put it," Muzan said, his voice firm, "What is it?"

Enmu's grin widened, "Dream Manipulation, Master. I can enter, manipulate, or control anyone's dreams however I want to. I can use it to kill from the inside, eating a person spirit first and body second. I can also put people to sleep."

Muzan wasn't necessarily impressed by this, but he wasn't disappointed either. An ordinary power, really. Nothing that could ever rival his own.

However...

Muzan's gaze flickered down to the surface of his desk. A flicker of a long lost yet not forgotten feeling bubbled deep inside of his being. A mere spark of light, really, a piece of warmth he felt from long ago, lost to the wayside by the vestiges of time.

It was something Muzan thought he would never experience again.

Dream manipulation, huh?

It might be worth a try.

Muzan looked back up to Enmu, sharpening his gaze, "Tell me, are you able to give... pleasant dreams?"

Enmu was surprised to hear this come from Muzan to say the absolute least. He took this as another opportunity to disobey orders and turn to Muzan again, this time fully and whole-heartedly. The lower moon looked right into those blood red eyes, looking for any sign of a rare flicker of humor or joking.

Muzan's gaze was serious, poised as ever.

Muzan was being for real.

Taking a pause to swallow, Enmu allowed his soft smirk to return to his gray, pale face.

"Why," the lower moon retorted, "I can, Master, yes."

Muzan eyed the lesser demon for a good second at his response.

This move was risky. It could damage his image. Yet, if he was to do this with any of his pawns, he would do it with Enmu. Enmu seemed to have no intent on harming Muzan or his image in any way; he was far too loyal for that.

Besides, if someone were to question the might of Muzan, he could just prove them wrong.

Muzan leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and lacing his fingers together, wrapping them around his knee. His icy gaze still on Enmu, he spoke again.

"I wish to see a pleasant dream."

Muzan nearly rolled his eyes when he saw just how wide Enmu's grin had gotten and just how flushed his face got.

It was repulsive.

But, if it meant what Muzan thought it would mean...

It was worth stomaching.

After a breif moment used to compose himself, Enmu's smile faded to normal again. He pulled up the sleeves to his coat.

"I will give you a dream where you will experience the happiest days of your life over again, Master Kibutsuji," the lower moon stated, "Is this to your liking or would you prefer something else?"

"No," Muzan stated flatly, "That is fine."

Perfect, even.

Enmu smiled widely one last time, holding out his arm and pointing it at the demon lord.

"Sweet dreams, my lord." Was the last thing Muzan heard before falling into a deep, deep sleep.

~~

"Muzan..."

Despite his blood demon art being so much weaker than his, Muzan wasn't quite ready for just how Enmu put him into a dream like that. Muzan's headache had grown ten-fold now, and he could feel that his face was scrunched.

"Muzan..."

Slowly but surely regaining his full consciousness, Muzan could first feel that he was in different clothes than what he had been wearing before. These ones were lighter, softer, and much more airy than his normal suit. Squinting open his crimson eyes, he saw that he was in what appeared to be a long, dark, flowing kimono.

The second thing Muzan could feel was that it was rather cool where he was, and that he appeared to be lying on the ground. Sifting his weight slowly, he could then feel that his head was lain upon what felt like two soft, plush pillows firmly squished together.

The third thing, however, took him a little longer to discern quite that it was. At first, he thought it was a pair of chopsticks running across his scalp over and over again. Upon, further thought, however, Muzan was further snapped back into awareness.

Those were not chopsticks.

Those were fingers.

All too familiar fingers.

"Muzan..!"

Muzan felt a stir deep down inside of him. He recognized this feeling, this touch, this warmth. It had been so, so long since he had felt like this. How long was it again? It had to be an eternity ago. An eternity wrapped within all time time in the world.

Muzan was speechless. Muzan couldn't move. Muzan was struck from deep within, and nothing in the world could ever compare to its blow.

"Muzan!"

Although the calling of the demon's lord name had been going on for some time now, he was just now able to respond.

Tilting his chin upwards towards the voice's source, Muzan nearly fell to bits right then and there. If he was someone else, he would have wept deep, earnest tears at the very sight of the being above him. For everything and nothing surrounded him as he studied the bright, radiant face above him, and nothing else seemed to exist other than that smile.

Other than her.

Her.

Oh, her, her, her.

His beloved. His sun, moon and stars. The ground beneath his feet and the air around him. His joy and love, his woes and sorrow. His fears and excitement. His warmth and his cold.

You.

You were really here.

"I was wondering if you were ever gonna wake up," you said, a faint laugh behind your voice, "You were out for so long!"

This scene was all too familiar to Muzan. He had replayed it in his head countless times, as if it were the only record left in the world.

He knew what this day was, and he knew all of your lines.

How could he ever forget?

Every moment he had ever spent with you had been a blessing.

Right now, his head was cradled in your lap, your soft, delicate fingers combing through his hair oh so gently as he had slept. It was deep into the night, and ordinarily Muzan would not be sleeping at this time. However, your touch was just so relaxing to him.

Everything about you was.

Today, you and him had spent the night wandering through the garden of your home together, chatting about anything and everything. It was only about two months into your relationship with Muzan. Muzan had first come to your home with the intention of eating everyone within the residence, but once he saw your face, watched you, saw your heart, your spirit, your you, he just couldn't.

He just...

couldn't.

You were human, yes.

But Muzan didn't care.

He was in love with you.

Muzan had yet to tell you the truth about him, however.

But that could come later.

"Muzan, are you alright?" He heard your voice echo again, snapping him out of his trance. He saw your face painted with worry, making his own features soften.

His darling angel. If only you knew just how much it pained him to see you with anything other than a smile.

Muzan reached his hand upwards, steadily maneuvering his fingers to brush your hair behind your ear and cup your warm cheek. He was shocked at how real you felt, shocked at just how similar it felt to all those years ago.

Perhaps Muzan had to give Enmu a reward.

The demon lord caressed your cheek gingerly with his cold, calloused thumb, savoring in just how warm your flesh was compared to his. For the first time in what felt like eons, Muzan felt a smile adorn his handsome features. Not one put on just to appease the humans around him, but genuine. The type of smile only you got to see.

Only you.

"I'm more than alright, my darling." He responded, his voice soft and warm, without the normal venom he gives to his subordinates. A voice reserved restrictively for you.

Finally, you let a soft grin come over your heavenly face again, making all seven of Muzan's hearts swell.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up," you said, "But it's about to be dawn soon. I don't want you to get a burn, so let's go in the house again, okay?"

Ah yes, the lie Muzan told you. He, of course, couldn't be with you in the sunlight (as much as he wanted to). So he had told you that he had a rare disorder that made him extra prone to sunburns and heatstroke.

Just something to keep you safe from the truth.

His soft smile still adorning his features, Muzan gave you a nod as he slid his head off of your lap. Since you were on your knees, you were quicker to stand than him. Brushing off your kimono quickly, you offered one of your hands to Muzan to help him stand, of which he gladly took. He had long since forgotted just how perfectly your hand fit into his, along with how radiant your kimono made you look.

Once he was back on his feet, Muzan couldn't help but to hold your arms, holding you a few feet away from him to simply admire you for a moment, his crimson eyes doing laps around your face and body.

You were perfect to him.

Every single thing about you was without flaw in his eyes. Not one curve of your body was too shallow or too wide. Not one strand of your hair was misplaced or without poise. Not one feature on your face took away from your radiant beauty. And you had not one bad bone inside of your body.

Muzan was never one to believe in angels.

However, if anyone in any part of the world were to tell him that you were one of them, straight from the heavens themselves,

He would believe them.

~~

As soon as Muzan stepped through the door, his hand in your own, the scene before him changed in one giant, peaceful flash of white light.

Before him now was no longer the house that he had shared with you all those years ago. Now, in its place, was a beautiful, lush springtime garden, all dredged under the cover of the night. It was not devoid of light, however. There were a few lanterns afloat in the water of the stream, as well as some within the structure of the small bridge that went over top of it. Flowers adorned every nook and cranny of the space, and the occasional insect or bird would make a brief appearance.

A small slice of paradise, just for you and Muzan Kibutsuji.

Fearing that you were no longer by his side, Muzan turned his head. His fears were quickly subsided when he saw you there next to him. Your delicate hands were placed on the railing of the bridge, and your eyes were fixated on the calm water below, almost as if it were a window into the heavens above. There was a small smile plastered on your face, and the delicate lights illuminated each of your features so perfectly.

Muzan knew this night.

This was the night he told you the truth.

The truth about him, about his "condition", about where he went for days on end, about why he couldn't walk with you in the sun, about everything.

This was the one night Muzan had ever felt fear.

"Is it really true, Muzan?" You asked, your gaze still fixated on the water below, "Are you really a demon?"

Muzan felt his lips part in small surprise. Even though he had replayed this night time and time again in his mind, it felt as if this were all happening for the first time over again.

Enmu really was good at this.

Muzan wet his lips before responding, setting his gaze on your precious, beautiful face and refusing to move it, "Yes, my love. It is true. I would not lie to you about this, I..."

A pause to collect this thoughts, before he could continue, "I kept it from you to protect you, (Y/N). I did not want any harm to come to you. My darling, I... I love you. My love for you knows no bounds. You are the stars that shine at night, and you are the shining moon above. Each time I look upon you, all I can stand to think of is how deep my love for you runs. I... I need you, (Y/N). I do not wish for you to be frightened of me, my angel. I would never, not ever harm you, nor let any harm come to you."

You still weren't looking at Muzan, yet your smile had yet to falter. Muzan felt a bubble of nervousness in his gut. Although he knew your response to his words already, even thinking of this moment never failed to make his stomach churn. He hoped his words to you were enough. He doubted that he had ever said anything more truthful in his entire life.

After a long pause of silence between the two of you, you closed your eyes and widened your smile. Then, you opened your eyes again, finally turning to face your lover. You looked Muzan right in the eyes, seemingly unfazed that you were standing so dangerously close to the most powerful being alive.

You were so brave.

Your heart was so big.

Muzan felt so overwhelmed.

"Muzan," you said, your cheeks dusting a light pink.

What you said next to him, Muzan could never get out of his head, never forget. No matter how much he tried, he would never not ever forget your words in that moment.

Within that one short, simple phrase, the king of demons fell in love all over again.

"I've always known."

~~

Another flash within his crimson eyes, and the scene had changed again. Nighttime again, of course, but this time within the confines of the bedroom you and Muzan shared. Both you and Muzan were nude, sans the blanket that covered the lower half of your forms. Muzan was on his back, one strong arm wrapped around you, the other cradling the back of his head. Your legs were intertwined with his, and your hair and hands were sprawled out on top of his lean, muscular chest.

Muzan knew this night as well.

It was his most loved night with you, but also his most dreaded.

How cruel fate was.

Stroking your back with the tips of his fingers, Muzan stared up at the ceiling above the two of you. Your body was flush against his, and as warm as ever. He wondered to himself if he was making you cold. If he was, you didn't seem to mind.

After a long period of savoring the silence between you and him, you softly snorted out a cute, soft giggle. This made Muzan angle his chin downward to look at the top of your head.

"What is it?" He questioned.

You giggled again, tilting your head up to look at him. Smiling, you turned your body to lay on top of the demon king, your breasts smushing against his own. Instinctively, Muzan laid his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles into them as he held you in place.

"I just find it funny that even though you profess to have so much stamina, you get tired after only two rounds." You explained to him, a playful mischievousness in your tone and eyes.

Muzan breathed out a smile, reaching up a clawed hand to brush your hair out of your face.

"As I recall it, you were the one complaining it was too much." He quipped back.

You snorted, "As if that ever stopped you before."

The demon let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. Muzan couldn't remember ever laughing so genuinely before you came along. You truly were the light of his life. You filled his days with the sunlight he had long since forgotten, as well with the warmth no other demon could ever have.

He loved you.

He loved you he loved you he loved you.

And he still did.

He watched as you dropped your gaze to his chest, running your fingers along the flesh.

"Muzan..." you said, your voice more serious than before, "I've been thinking a lot lately..."

The demon king hummed, brushing more hair from your face.

"What has been on your mind, my love?" He asked.

You paused for a second before continuing on. Muzan could practically see the gears turning in your head.

"Well, I... I'm not getting any younger, you know, and I've been thinking. I... I really love you, Muzan. You're the only person I can imagine myself being with for the rest of my life. The other day, I was in town, and I saw the cutest family ever with a husband and a wife and two adorable little children, and it made me think..."

You looked up at him again, giving him a soft smile.

"What if we were to have a family of our own?"

Muzan could feel the same sense of joy, love, and pride in his chest as he did this same moment all those years ago. In this moment, he had never felt closer to you before, nor could you recall ever looking more beautiful.

He wanted nothing more than to be a family with you for the rest of eternity.

"Darling, you know what that would mean, correct?" He questioned you. He had told you long before that demons could only have offspring with other demons, for a demon baby would eat its human mother from the inside and kill her. It was gruesome, and had originally made you cringe at the thought. Muzan had thought your reaction was quite cute.

"Yes, yes, I know," you answered, "and I'd be ready for it. Even if I'm a demon, and even if I can never go out in the sun again or live normally ever again, I'd be happy knowing I got to be with you and our baby for the rest of time."

Muzan gave you a smile in return, his long, white fangs flashing in the light of the night. Leaning forward, he kissed you upon your soft, warms lips, gently pulling you closer to him.

This was one of the thousands of reasons why he loved you.

You were always so sweet, so kind and optimistic. He would admit, he did have a soft spot for you and you alone. But he didn't care. You were worth it. You were worth every single piece of money on planet earth. You were worth the sun the moon and the stars, and all the planets here and beyond. You were worth any injury, any heartache, and any trial or tribulation in the world.

The king of the demons unquestionably, unfathomably, undeniably, adored you.

Pulling gently away from the kiss, Muzan looked deep into your eyes, right past your pupils and looked right into your soul, your very being.

"I would want nothing more, my sunlight."

If Muzan could turn back the hands of time, he would have kept you here with him for the rest of everything and beyond.

For he did not know then that was the last kiss you and him would share.

~~

Another flash, and Muzan was no longer greeted with a visage of the past. Much to his dismay, the demon was now greeted with the sight of his office, with a smiling Enmu creepily watching him from across his desk.

What a fucking freakshow.

Taking in a breath of air through his nose, Muzan sat up tall in his chair again, rubbing the bridge of his nose with this thumb and pointer finger.

You were gone again. You were again nothing up a memory, a whisper of a time from the past.

Muzan could hardly bare it.

He had felt you, held you near him.

And just as fast as you came back, you were gone again.

This was a pain almost too hard to bear.

How long was he asleep for? Muzan really didn't care how long it was.

No amount of time with you was enough.

"Did you have the pleasant dream you wished for, Master?" Enmu asked the demon king. The lesser moon was lucky Muzan was in a somewhat good mood that day.

"Yes." Muzan replied simply, closing his eyes to rub them with his thumb, "Excellent work."

Enmu's smile widened at this, his cheeks turning pink again.

"Why, thank you, Master." He responded, his excitement prevalent in his voice.

Enmu really was a special one.

After composing himself again, Muzan scooted his chair forward up to his desk, fixing his gaze back onto his work sprawled out below.

Muzan just wanted to be alone again after that. He had been alone for years now, but he wanted Enmu out of the room. Although he could have easily ordered it to be so, he again did not want to show any weakness to the lower moon.

Christ on a bike. Muzan was so fucking stubborn.

He remembered all the times you nagged him for it.

Oh, what he would give to have you nag him one last time.

After a long bout of silence, the lesser demon decided to speak up again. He turned his head over his shoulder again to Muzan, trying to sound as naieve and innocent as possible.

"Master," Enmu said, "Where is she now?"

Muzan stopped his movements and glared up at Enmu with a venomous glare. How dare he even refer to you. You were so far above him, how dare Enmu even think to invoke your name.

Though Muzan wanted to kill the other demon right on the spot, he decided against it. He still wanted to see how Enmu would do on his mission. Also, Muzan had to admit that he did feel lighter and more generous after his dream with you. And he supposed it was fair that Enmu had his questions.

Feeling nice, Muzan decided to entertain Enmu's question.

Shifting his gaze back to the papers below, Muzan replied.

"Gone." he said, "The night she asked about a family was the last night I saw her alive. The next day, a group of slayers found her and our house. They knew who she was and that she was human, but killed her anyway. All in attempt to get to me. I found her in a pool of her own blood, limp and cold. The slayers died that same night."

Enmu's smile faded at this, his face taking on a look of shock. Closing his lips into a tight line, Enmu looked away, out of a quiet unconscious respect. Everything made so much more sense to Enmu now. Why the demon king was the way he was, his hatred for slayers, his cold-hearted, murderous nature.

It all clicked into place.

"I... I am sorry for your loss, Master." He said, his voice quieter than normal, "She seemed like a lovely woman."

Muzan peered up at the back of Enmu's head. Through his thick, black lashes.

"Yes..." Muzan said.

"She truly was."

[grappling-with-my-baki-addiction]

✨More Requested Headcanons✨

Howdy!

Sorry this is a smidge late, been busy with work and regular adult stuff. You know;

💖 Boring Crap That Costs me Money 💖

(ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

This request was submitted before my rules post so I still included Baki even though he is in canon a minor, I aged him up to his mid twenties. Let me know if this is problematic for some people, I only want to spread the good vibes and good times with ya'll sweeties!

Let me know your opinions on aging up characters, yay or nay? If anyone has a problem with it, please let me know!

I hope everyone is having a good day/night!

~Cheers

Their reaction to their Fem!S/o becoming drunk; confesses their love for, and then trying to seduce them. Then changing their mind and only wanting to give kisses and snuggle while continuing to confess their love.

Kaoru Hanayama:

He would find it a mix of endearing as well as amusing. More so depending on if his s/o is more shy or outgoing.

The shyer they are, he will tease them while holding them.

More outgoing, he will admire their honesty and boldness to openly talk about their feelings.

He finds it cute that they are teary eyed and confessing their love for him.

When they try to seduce him, kissing his face, caressing his neck, chest, grinding into his lap, he gets serious and a bit hot under the collar.

Hands going up and down their body, lifting their shirt off, and playing with the clasp of their pants…

Until his s/o becomes teary eyed again and goes back to confessing their love and saying they want to cuddle in bed for the rest of the night.

He’d chuckle at the turn of events, carrying his s/o to their shared bed and letting them have their cuddly way with him.

Hemming and haa-ing at his partners musings, stating his own feelings for them by holding them a little tighter, and just enjoying their presence.

“ There are no words elegant enough to describe my feelings for you “

Jack Hanma:

He’d 100% be laughing and enjoying their drunken shenanigans.

Since he's so freaking BeEfY, it takes a lot to get him drunk, so watching his s/o get smashed is always a verified good time.

Be ready to be teased relentlessly the morning after regardless of how bad the hangover is.

He knows they love him through their actions, so them taking the time to confess with their words only feeds his ego.

Though hearing them say it in public strokes his ego in the best way. Expect to be pinned to the nearest wall.

So when their confessions turn to incorrigible flirting, kisses, and steamy touches, he’s 1000% down for it.

He’d pick them up ASAP and move them somewhere more comfortable.

This isn’t the first time his s/o got this shit faced and he knows he has a time limit before they return to their lovesick coo-ing.

He’ll be trying to keep the mood going for as long as he can.

Unless his partner tells/shows him otherwise

We do not stand by boundary stompers in this house, no ma’am

When the mood eventually fizzles out, he’s fine to deal with his pent up vibes on his own time.

Being content with having his inebriated s/o ‘s coo-ing and the cuddles they offer.

Opting to Open a few beers for himself, resolved that he’s missed his window anyways.

if there is no sex tonight why not get shitfaced together?

“ No one drives me crazy like you do, never change. ”

Baki Hanma: (aged up to mid twenties)

Baki would be drunk with them.

Serenading each other with sappy love songs

hugging each other while repeatedly trying to one up each other in affection

“ I love you the most”

“No I love YOU the mostest”

“Well fuck you, I love you the morest”

He’s spent his life fighting and becoming stronger, so he hasn’t spent all that much time, if at all, around alcohol and building a tolerance to it.

Like give this man-child some bread please

So when his s/o tries to bring the sexy, it goes over his head.

He’s oblivious to their advances. All he knows is he needs to tell them he loves them more than they love him.

He’d touch their forehead with his, and just stare at them in a drunken haze,

“ Hey y/n, listen I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. Just stay with me so I can protect you”

Beware of projectile vomit inbound.

Yujiro Hanma:

The absolute EGO BOOST this man gets

If they were somewhere public he is grinning and laughing like the mad man he is.

He’d be running his hands up and down his s/o back, sides, legs. Just enjoying the feeling of his rough, calloused hands rubbing against their much softer skin.

He’s half listening to them after a while, mostly just enjoying his own buzz and feeling them up.

When he feels them grind against him, his full attention is back on them.

He’ll give them a choice to stop here, if they don’t then they should expect to not walk tomorrow.

“ If you know what's good for you dollface, you'll have some water and call it a night. Unless you want to be my chew toy that is. ”

Kaioh Retsu:

Retsu would be loving the cuddles, and general fawning from his s/o.

Although he is concerned about the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed, he can’t help but find the blush on their cheeks to be adorable and in general just admiring them

Welcome to cuddle town

He’s making sure they are hydrated, giving them snacks, and just doing his best to help minimize the hangover that will be coming in the morning.

When they eventually try to seduce him, he becomes rigid.

He feels like he would be taking advantage of them in this state, so he's going to be doing everything in his power to settle them down.

Though he can't hide the deep blush on his face, no matter how much he wants to.

He’d keep them close to his side, still wanting to take care of them

tracing patterns on their back, and telling them stories from his time at the temple, and his travels.

Eventually he’d lull his drunken s/o to sleep, staring at their relaxed expression and be so content and proud to have them as his own.

“ Let’s stay like this, just a little while longer ”

Katsumi Orochi:

He’d be pretty bashful, as he was out drinking with his s/o, Atsushi Suedo, Kiyosumi Katou, and his Shinshinkai comrades.

Having his s/o clinging to him as they confess their feelings makes him feel a sense of pride.

They choose him, out of all the fighters, the men and women around them, they choose to be with him.

Katou and Suedo would be teasing the hell out of the pair.

Now imagine the awkward silence when y/n becomes a little spicy

Katsumi is red in the face, fumbling his words, unable to form a syllable, let alone a full sentence.

Katou is dying from laughter, cracking jokes, and in general just being Katou.

And Suedo is hiding his face, that's his brother’s partner and he (Suedo) is a respectful gentleman after all!

Ignore the gap in his fingies.

Katsumi would eventually regain enough composure to scoop up his s/o in his arms and go for the door.

He’s determined that now is a good time to call it a night for the two of them.

Whether they were able to sober up a bit during the escape or not, Katsumi would insist on carrying them all the way to their shared home.

They just look so cute in his arms, he might explode at the cuteness.

“ Like hell I’ll ever let you go. Now or ever, you're stuck with me ”

[gloryofluv]

How the Last Three Brothers react to MC with ADHD

So this is the last half of the brothers. I also added some bonus content at the bottom in regards to all of them!

Here's the first four in case you missed them!

Asmo-

Heard about it from Satan. Was amused, but definitely didn’t care too much about it.

After meeting you the first time he decides that you’re not quite his type, but is friendly anyway. It wasn’t until he noticed that you were trying to mimic his makeup and did a stellar job that he was interested. He flat out asks you why.

When you express that he’s the most beautiful friendliest demon and wants to fit in more that he gushes! He immediately starts to have beauty sessions and finds out through teaching you proper hair care that you confess that you never feel like you fit in and want to, that he asks more about your ADHD.

Telling Asmo is easier than Lucifer. Mostly because he’s hugging you and brushing out your hair. Relaxing you into a state where you’re able to admit how awkward it makes you feel.

He immediately makes it his goal to improve your self-confidence! Doesn’t ask. Barges into your room with products, brushes, and other items at least once a week. You review the week and he listens to your worries. If someone is bothering you at RAD, he has ways of ending their lives in social suicide.

This beautiful boy becomes your gal pal with benefits. He always has something healthy to offer for your skin, clothing that he wants you to try on, and never says one horrible thing about you. He LOVES that you want assistance with your Devilgram and makeup. He even doesn’t mind when you zone out. He’ll be patient and repeat it.

Alone time? Well, don’t expect him to leave you completely alone. He’ll text you and not worry about receiving answers right away. He knows sometimes you just need to hear what he does. You give him so many compliments that his ego is boosted through the roof. He suddenly can’t live without you!!! Don’t leave him, okay? Other than Solomon, he’s never adored a human this much.

Beelzebub-

This boy. He didn’t care, but not because he was indifferent. He was just like, okay??? Doesn’t get it.

Notices you don’t snack or you snack all the time. No in-between. That’s a problem. Humans need to eat, right? Starts to make extra afternoon snacks for you. Doesn’t even make a big deal out of it. He just knocks on your door with water and a plate, offering them and leaving.

Notices that you’re tired or ready to run for a mile. No middle. Starts to ask if you want to go with him every day and will carry you on his back if you’re tired. Once something happens once it’s routine. Expect a knock at your door every afternoon with a snack and then going for a jog.

He isn’t as interested in the clinical details but asks you what it means when you become closer. You explain in a simplistic fashion why your brain is weird. He laughs and nods but still says he likes you just the way you are.

If you ever get sad, he will definitely ask if he can help. If you get tired, he’s used to carrying around a tired teddy bear. He offers to carry you. If you’re stress he’ll ask if he can give you some of his snacks and hug you.

He really likes you. A lot. You’re always saying how sweet, kind, and gentle he is. He’s just himself, but he always glows when you say it. It makes him warm and fuzzy.

If anyone makes you cry. Be prepared for this gentle giant to go full apocalyptic demon. He will ruin them! It doesn’t matter if he finds out after the fact. He will find them and eat them. No one fucks with his little human cupcake. Well, inedible cupcake, he’d never eat you. (Well… he had thoughts when you playfully tease, but no. He could never hurt you and worries about that.)

Beel is literally your bodyguard and teddy bear. Expect big hugs, head pats, and plenty of food. That’s the way he shows his love. You will have to tell him you can’t eat so much and he can have it and to tell you how it tastes. He’d be happy to share that and anything else of his. He’d give you anything because he sincerely loves you like his brothers. Maybe more? Food = love, right?

Belphegor-

Meets you well after there are established routines. He notices how you are so odd for a human. He likes it, but then he doesn’t, but then he really does. He asks Beel about it and that’s how he finds out about your ADHD.

A weird brain? That might be fun. He uses that as a base to start contact with you. You tell him all about it without resistance and explain how the last several months have gone.

He suddenly has the urge to see how much your quirky personality is entertaining for him. He asks you to tell him more stories, they don’t even have to be about the Devildom. You tell him all the funny and ridiculous stories laying with him in the planetarium. It was… endearing.

He instantly adored you. You made him feel something more than bitter and tired. He listened to you and snoozed, opening an eye every so often to see you smiling and animatedly talking. He liked the inflections in your voice. He liked the smile on your lips. He liked that you were weird because he is sure as fuck was.

The fact that you were unique and still felt awkward in your own skin except when you were alone made him identify. Sees you. Sees that your struggles didn’t define you. Your issues, no matter the list, didn’t make you angry or mean.

Not only did he value your forgiveness and care. He valued your differences the most. He didn’t care if you were a bit wild or sad or even stressed. He would pull you into a tight snuggle and kiss your hair. He’d wait until you were almost napping in his arms to say he’d never let anyone else ever hurt you. He would love you for every piece of you for eternity.

He’d never admit to his soft and fluffy side in front of his brothers, often teasing you, but his hinted smile only reinforced your private friendship. It was all part of the layers you both built so no one truly could dig to the fluffy pillows you were.

Soon naps and confessions became routine in the afternoons after RAD. He would spill his heart out in return for your sincerity. It would make you mushy and relax you so that you could release the day.

Expect Beel and Belphie to become inseparable with you. The minute this little cuddle bear identifies that you are his squishy human, he tells his twin it’s their job to make sure you never leave them. He is a bit demanding but always returns the favor in different subtle ways.

Expect midnight texts and asking you to come up to his room or the attic. Insomnia is no longer really an option. The moment he latches onto you, you’re comforted like a weighted blanket and out in minutes.

Expect secretive treats, blankets, and gifts left in discreet places for you. Expect him to wait for you outside the classroom if you’re not together with Beel holding him up. Oh, and don’t even think you’re getting out of it. He found the one thing he loves more in life than sleeping. He dreams about you all the time and will tell you all about them, even the dirty ones to your chagrin. This demon boy will do anything to keep you happy and his.

~BONUS~ Fun additives!

Lucifer often asks Mammon to be sure that you aren’t stressing over homework and has him go check on you. That usually leads to some antic that makes you relax and have more fun and less anxiety.

Satan has a favorite blanket that he’ll wrap you both in when you’ve had a long day. It has aromatherapy and helps him too. It’s weighted and often both of you relax and find a way to laugh over books or a cat video.

Asmodeus has a whole wish list on Akuzon made just for you. Some items are personal care, others are cute stuffed animals because he knows you have bad days. Lucifer knows of this list and will often offer some money for doing a simple task so he can buy them for you.

Belphie will tolerate sharing your time with Leviathan to play video games or watch anime. As long as you allow him to curl against you so he can watch you smile or hear the thrum of your voice as you talk to Levi about the game or show.

If you are crying and Lucifer caught you, he will pull you into his study. Sit you down with tea and ask you what’s wrong. If you tell him it’s just a bad moment, he will break formality and stroke your hair. He will tell you stories about his brothers so that you start to smile and relax. He fucking lives for that smile.

Satan sets up mock adventures through the Devildom so that you enjoy the impulse of adventure without the dangers. (Mammon does enough endangerment to your impulses!) He will be sure while setting it up that it’s human proof. He also asks Solomon for extra warding charms for you without telling you. They’re usually hand-made bracelets that Satan crafted and attuned by the sorcerer.

Leviathan will do check-ins when you’re at RAD and he isn’t. If you feel upset about something, he will quote TSL at you to give you courage. Then when you get home, he will have a video game you have to try. Soon you’ve forgotten about the stressful day.

Asmodeus will take pictures with you allllll the time. He says it’s for him because he’s so beautiful, but his captions are always about how gorgeous you are while tagging you. Half of RAD thinks you’re dating just because of how much you’re on his Devilgram.

Beel will listen to everything you say. He may not respond immediately, but he evaluates it. If you’re having a really rough go at something, he will ask Belphie what to do. Often he’ll just sit with you or ask if you want to help him in the garden just so he can try to make you smile. He’s not horribly good with bad feels, but he will do anything for you.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: V

“I must admit, I thought I’d like to make you mine

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

A/N: this chapter...it was probably my fav to write, so far!!! i just adore these two clueless morons so much like i just can’t shut up about them. quite a bit happens in this part and it’s all to build that slow burn, friends to lovers shit we all know and love baYBEEEEE!!! and also The Crew make an appearance because hello we love to see it, we truly do 😌😌😌 especially the man, the myth, the legend, Mitch Rowland and honestly?? this is HIS chapter fuck vampirerry!!! but yeah i hope y’all like what’s in store for the Dynamic Duo this time around and remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it! spreading content keep creators motivated! without further delay, let’s dive in  😼  

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

word count: 34k 

content/warnings: witty banter, some nice fluff, jacuzzi sex, more fluff, a very testing phone call, some face f*cking, a soft shower, rough degradation, the return of The Handcuffs, an unexpected visit from The Three Stooges, more cheeky banter because that’s their brand, and the reveal of jealous asshole Harry 

///   

Y/N giddly accepts Harry’s offer to stay the weekend and the vampire can confidently say it’s one of the best he’s had in the last decade. 

He’d startled even himself when the suggestion had risen abruptly from his mouth, leaving him blinking blankly as a result. He rarely allows anyone to spend more than a day in his condo— his friends being the only exception— because he’s grown to like the quiet solitude that comes with living on his own. He very solemnly has people over whom he hasn’t known for at least a few years, and that rule is reinforced on stricter grounds when it comes to humans. Especially when the only true connection they could possibly carry to him is through the area between their legs. 

But Harry has become strangely fond of Y/N in the last four weeks— fond enough to freely refer to her as a friend and endeared enough to bypass the fact that she’s mortal. She just looks so unbelievably cute padding around his apartment barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of crumpled, sunflower-doodled panties and his Nike olive green jumper, her hair a mangled mess with traces of his cologne smeared across the bruised skin of her neck. Admittedly, it’s a sight he wants to see more often, which is a stab at his ego because he’s never been one to dwell on sentimentality— not for a while. It’s a bit cliche and gross, in his opinion, but when it comes to this one particular girl...well, maybe it’s not too bad. Indulging some soft pastimes can't do much damage, especially when it aids his plan to keep her interested until he himself grows bored. 

It can only do good, which is probably what had spurred him into asking her to extend her stay. For once, he found himself not craving his usual silent seclusion. Not when that self-imposed isolation could be filled with her loud laughter, warm lips, and sweet moans instead. 

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that. 

For the next two days, the creature gets all of his needs and wants attended to, both recreational and intimate. Y/N seems to enjoy it thoroughly, as well, walking— or rather waddling, really, thanks to some of their raunchier activities— around his flat happily, constantly clad in a pair of his boxers and one of his graphic tees. He gets off on it— it’s hard not to, especially with the way she fits his clothes so effortlessly, almost as if she was made to fill them. Or the way the scent of his shampoo is combed through every strand of her hair, his smell slathered all over her as if she’s unconsciously trying to mark herself as his. Or the way new love bites cover the ones his blood had nearly faded, which she dotes shamelessly by pushing all her hair behind her shoulders so Harry can get a perfect view of every welt he’s left behind on her throat. Or the way she unapologetically giggles at all his jokes and crude humor, and how she paddles his witty banter right back at him with that clever gleam in her irises. 

He gets off on the way Y/N cuddles into him on the couch while they’re watching some mindless Food Network series, her body heat expelling the stiff coldness from his limbs. The way she kisses tenderly along the underside of his jaw, forefinger tracing over his Adam’s Apple teasingly, a smile spreading against his skin when she feels it bob heavily. The way she’ll sneak her hand between his thighs and palm him over his briefs, taking the shell of his ear between her teeth and hissing lowly when his cock twitches against her fingers, her voice soft as silk but heavy with dirty intentions. “Want to make you feel good again, H. Can I?” 

The human girl is a blessing, while simultaneously being a walking, talking sin, and the monster’s never been more willing to damn himself to Hell. And he would gladly do it, if he wasn’t already living it in the form of blood-driven eternity.

It’s an eventful weekend, that’s for sure, and despite the fact that they share an abundance of memorable moments, there are a few that Harry deems especially unforgettable. 

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list. 

Y/N had practically squealed when she’d laid eyes on the glorified tub in his bathroom, pacing over to it excitedly and leaning down to run her fingers over the control panel along the rim. Her voice had come out whispered, full of child-like wonder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Harry had walked over to stand beside her, his icy digits pressing on top of her warm own, finagling the buttons into his preferred settings. Hot water begins to shoot out of all the polished jets one by one, slowly filling the pool and covering the dark marble wrap-around ledge used as seating. The vampire quickly fetches the bag of lavender Epsom salts he keeps close by, scooping a couple handfuls into the frothing hot tub, along with pouring in a decent amount of jasmine bubble bath. 

His lips jolt when he catches Y/N eyeing the jacuzzi in awe, her hands clasped to her chest in delight as she teeters back and forth ever so slightly on her heels. The water shuts off once it reaches the appropriate level, leaving behind a thick, luxurious sheet of suds that smells of sugary florals and clean linen. The second the jets retract, Harry doesn’t even have time to make a comment before Y/N begins stripping down hurriedly, obviously restless to take on this new experience. 

Harry spontaneously jerks to the side out of habit, averting his sight to allow her some privacy. His tone is soft and amused. “Clean towels are in the hamper along the other side of the tub.” He signals blindly towards where he knows the basket is situated. “Call me back in when you need help with the shower knobs. And don’t—”

The immortal spots something streak across his peripheral vision, cocking his head a bit just in time to see her flower-print panties toss onto the tiled floor. He rolls his eyes playfully, scoffing to himself at the innocence of the article. It matches her persona perfectly. 

He hears a splash crack through the air behind him, meaning that Y/N has submerged herself in the water and that it is now safe for him to turn around without threatening her decency. However, he doesn’t think she’d mind if he did and he finds himself wondering why he’d looked away in the first place. The answer comes to him simply: it was a residual mannerism from the era he was raised in. His default Victorian etiquette can be so fucking annoying sometimes. 

He spins around on his socked heels, lean arms folding casually across his broad chest, naked tattoos glinting under the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. He slinks his head to the side, entertained at the view he finds. Y/N is sitting amidst the blanket of pink bubbles, covered up to her shoulders as she cups soap into her palms, blowing at it and watching the suds float across the air before popping. The adorable smile that breaks across her face makes Harry’s stomach flutter. 

The vampire steps forward to catch her attention, leaning a hip against the edge of the tub and pursing his lips to hide an adoring grin. The corners of his mouth betray him as soon as Y/N looks up at him, hair slicked back with water and bubbles, matted to the sides of her neck and across her jaw as she beams up at him. 

“Your place is literally an adult playground.” The human states wistfully, her arms floating across the surface of the bath as she drifts closer to him, creating more suds. “You’re gonna have to get me kicked out tomorrow ‘cause I’m not leaving on my own.” 

Harry snorts, ducking down and wiping some soap off the tips of her eyelashes. “I don’t think security detail was part of the lease, so I might have to do it myself.”

“I can easily take you.” Y/N remarks jokingly, waving a hand dismissively. “Better make some space, I’m moving in next week.” 

“I’d say I would start clearing out my storage room for you,” Harry leans forward, ghosting his lips over hers and thumbing over the curve of her chin, batting his lashes sultrily, “but I think we both know you’d end up in my bed either way. Best leave it as is.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N momentarily glimpses down at his mouth, eyes glitzing with the slightest bit of hunger, “I think it's best if we just split the bed.” 

“Oh, we’ll definitely split the bed— split it right down the middle.” Harry grips her jaw firmly and locks her into a wet, sloppy kiss for a few elongated heartbeats, tugging at her bottom lip and biting it jestingly before pulling back. 

Y/N chases after him, craving more of his taste, but the boy draws back fully and pats at her cheek with smug finality. Her begrudging pout makes him release a boyish giggle. “Anyways, as I was saying before, my last rule: Don’t pee in the tub. Cleaning it is a bitch and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.” 

The mortal laughs airily, nodding her head in confirmation that she understands. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Her friend huffs, shoulders slumping dramatically in relief. Harry takes on a theatrical ominous edge, quirking his brows warningly. “Didn’t end well for the last person who did.” 

“Is that so?” Y/N inquires daringly, lowering herself deeper into the water until it covers her chin. “What happened? Did you have to take on the role of executioner again?”

Harry thinks back to that instance, shaking his head in amusement at the memory. It had been Niall— anything that has to do with testing his patience almost always leads to Niall— and to make a long story short, the Irish bloke had ended up having to regrow an ear. But he can’t necessarily confess that supernatural event to Y/N, no matter how funny it is, so he just shrugs offhandedly and gives her a dark look full of faux mystery, voice adopting the same affect. “I’ve already said too much.” 

The young woman casts her eyes up to the ceiling humorously. “Moron.” 

“Watch it, love.” Harry tuts, narrowing his eyes at her pointedly in an attempt to suppress the smirk that is about to stem from his next comment. “I’m not the one with the degradation kink here.” 

Y/N scrunches her face at him mockingly, trying to hide the way his quip had made her heart hiccup. She mimics his accent, sticking up her middle finger from beneath a mountain of rosy bubbles. “Piss off.” 

“Gladly.” Harry bites back cheekily in an American accent. He leans down, retrieving his Nike sweater and her underwear from the rumpled pile on the ground, his intentions set on taking them across the hall to the laundry room with the rest of her clothes. That way, her stuff will be nice and clean for when she needs it again Sunday night. “Just call if you need me, yeah?” 

Harry gets about three feet towards the door before Y/N’s soft voice halts him, piping up as gentle and timid as usual. “Wait…”

The vampire glances over his shoulder, eyebrows poised in question as he absentmindedly flips his jumper inside-out in anticipation for the wash. 

Y/N swims across the extent of the jacuzzi until she’s right in front of where he’d stopped, resting her forearms along the rim and plopping her chin atop her folded hands. She gazes up at Harry through her lashes and he can see the manner in which she shifts her footing beneath the small waves, almost as preparing to stand up from the water. “Don’t go.” 

Harry’s eyes go half-lidded in a flat expression as he hangs his sweatshirt over the inside of his elbow. “Didn’t you literally just tell me to piss off five seconds ago?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“Well, that’s just too bad. You already hurt my feelings. No take-backs.” 

“Idiot.”

“Try again.” 

“What’s that one insult British people say? Oh, yeah! Knobhead.” 

“You’re really not helping your case here.” 

Y/N sighs in exasperation, using her palms to boost herself up until she’s standing fully inside the hot tub. Water cascades down her shoulders and out of her sopping hair, following the curves of her bare torso and trickling across her jaw. She teeters forward until her face is only a few inches away from Harry’s, lulling her head to the side expectantly with a certain slyness swirling around her pupils. She chews on her lower lip as she gives him a suggestive once-over. “How about now? Does this help my case?”

Harry keeps his eyes pinned to her own, refusing to submit to temptation. He knows exactly what she’s trying to do, and he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of allowing it to work. Not yet, at least. He wants her to beg for it. 

The creature twists towards her entirely, irises bright with the excitement of a new challenge. Even with the slight elevation the jacuzzi provides, Harry still towers over Y/N at least a good four inches. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that she has to tilt her chin up to maintain direct eye contact. The tip of his cold nose brushes over hers, eyebrows shrugging tauntingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, darling.”

Y/N reaches forward without breaking their stares, taking the clothes from Harry’s grasp and haphazardly chucking them onto the towel hamper. Now with his arms free, the immortal props his hands onto his hips, his biceps and shoulders flexing with the motions. He’s peacocking to try and intimate her, and in any other circumstance, it would probably work, but Y/N knows she has the upper-hand at the moment; she’s naked and wet and docile, and with the way Harry’s handsome features are hardening in determination, she can tell she’s whittling him down. All it would take is one well-coordinated touch here, a lingering stroke there, and maybe a gentle caress of her lips down the valley of his pectorals…

Y/N goes for something better. She reaches upwards to intertwine her fingers around the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging him closer until their chests meld together, the heat from the water radiating off her waxy skin and sinking into his freezing own. His breathing catches as soon as he feels her pert nipples press into his chest and even though he’s keeping his sight trained on her face, he can just barely see the curves of her breasts less than a foot below. Their close proximity is making them swell upwards, urging him to give in and have his way with her however he wants. And fuck, does he want to. But he’s not going to let her bait him that easily— who would he be if he allowed this human girl to toy with him in such a fashion? Harry never lets anyone puppet him— not anymore, not ever again— and especially not when it comes to sex, which is one of his most skilled domains. He certainly isn’t going to let her win. 

Harry grabs Y/N’s wrists from where they are perched around his neck, giving her a hard look that lets her know who’s in charge of the situation. He brings her hands up before her face, flipping them over so she gets a proper view of the faint bruising that lines her flesh, leftover from the previous evening’s restraints. When he speaks, it’s low and throaty with a condescending undercurrent. “Remember what happened last time you acted like a brat?”

Images flash by the forefront of Y/N’s mind like a film on fast-forward, recalling the night to which Harry is referring. The young man had tied her to her headboard and fingered her until she was left a teary mess, refusing to let her orgasm each time she got close. Then, he had tossed the girl onto her tummy and rammed into her from behind until her aged bedframe had nearly splintered. If she focuses intently enough, she can still feel the satisfying ache he had left behind, which had haunted her for days afterwards. 

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad. 

Harry raises an eyebrow with an awaiting air. “Remember what I said about using your words?”

Y/N bobs her head again quickly. After a moment, she realizes her repeated mistake, clearing her throat softly in order to fix it. “Yes.”

“Good.” The vampire drops her hands, coasting his palms up her neck to cup either sides of her jaw, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones almost tenderly. “Now let me ask you again. Do you remember what happened last time you acted like a little brat?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

“No, I—” Y/N pauses in hindsight, retracting her previous statement. “Well, actually…”

Harry’s ruby lips string into a coy smirk at her response, well acquainted with where her thoughts are leading. He presses their foreheads together, the damp stickiness of her warm flesh sending a shiver toppling down his spine. “Let me guess. You want a repeat of the part where I shoved your face into a pillow and fucked you until you squirted all over me?” 

He can feel blood surge into her cheeks beneath his fingertips as a result of his vulgar words. “Yes, please.”

Harry gnaws along the inside of his cheek as he recalls that event. He can practically feel her gushing around his cock all over again, her walls tightening around him as her whole body trembled in his grasp, her shattered whimpers stinging his ears as he continued to slam into her until she’d completely drenched both of their thighs. His eyelids fall shut in dreamy recollection and an image skims by of his initial rings marked across her ass; it nearly sends his knees out from under him. “Fuck, that was so hot, wasn’t it?”

“So fucking hot.” Y/N sighs shakily, lashes fluttering as his warm breath washes across her tingling mouth. “Harry, I just...I just want to ride you so fucking bad right now.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” Harry touches over her quivering bottom lip, somehow managing to feel her pulse. It’s battering so hard, he could probably sense it through any spot on her body, at this point. “You want me to sit in there with you just so you can bounce on my cock, baby?” 

“Please…” Y/N sounds as if she’s on the verge of crying, all of her desperate need translating into her wrecked voice. Her next phrase is something she doesn’t think she’s ever spoken before, but the intensity of the moment just feels so right to test it out, and Harry feels like the right person to test it with. After another heavy gulp and a lick at her dry lips, she chimes up once again, bashful and pliant. “Please, Daddy?”

The sound of a sharp inhale echoes off the marble and porcelain walls of the bathroom, stemming from Harry’s garbled throat. It feels like the temperature in the atmosphere has gone up twenty degrees, invisible flames lapping across the muscles of his taut back and across the tendons of his tight shoulders. His entire body seems to go into shock, lungs stuttering and stomach hollowing out. His lashes snap shut without a heartbeat to spare, webs of black veins materializing over the whites of his eyes as a reaction to Y/N’s brazen comment. 

He has been indulging fantasies of her calling him that specific name for weeks now, but had never asked out of respect for her boundaries. He figured that if she had an affinity for it, it would eventually make its way out of her mouth during one of their sessions, and he had been willing to be patient enough to wait. It had paid off, it seems. 

Harry releases his grip on the girl’s face, reaching down to messily shove his black briefs down his clammy thighs, eyes flickering open now that he has forced some control into his demeanor. He sets his intent on her expression, the jade of his irises bleeding lust as he catches her gawking at him. Y/N gazes down at where he’s occupied, her lips parting slightly with starved awe as his underwear falls away to pool at his feet, revealing the part of him she has grown so addicted to in the last month. It looks so pretty, with a neatly trimmed pubic area, thick girth, and pleasurable length. She never knew cocks could be appealing, considering she always found their appearance so odd and irrelevant. That is, until Harry. It appears she thought a lot of sexual things irrelevant until Harry. 

He kicks away his clothes, nudging at her boiling cheeks with his nose to garner attention, his tone low and inexplicably strained. “Say it again.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against his heaving chest as she gathers her bearings, shuddering with a difficult exhale. She says it a bit louder this time, but still inherently weak, almost as if she’s scared their shadows might overhear. “Please, Daddy?”

Harry’s brows furrow with puncurting desire, a broken groan stirring deep in his lungs. “God, that sounds so good coming from your mouth. Been wanting to hear you say it for ages now.” 

“Really?”

He nods fervently, nose bumping hers with every movement and he takes this chance to peek down at her naked figure, swallowing thickly at how incredible her breasts look flushed to his pecs. “Think about it constantly. Always wondered what it would take to get it out of you.” 

“I wish you’d just told me.” The human mumbles, tracing his cupid’s bow with the crest of her own. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while now.” 

Harry chuckles lightly, humming in amusement as he snakes a strong arm around the dip of her spine, drawing her closer as much as possible. He just wants to feel every inch of her wet, velvety skin. “Well, now you can say it all you want. Over and over and over, while I make your knees shake and your back arch.” 

Y/N sputters out a bundle of feathery giggles, looping her arms around his neck and carding her fingers into his shiny curls, pulling his lips down to meet hers in a restless kiss full of quiet whines and snippets of laughter. She talks into his mouth, starting to pant as the pace becomes more passionate, full of eager tongues and nipping teeth. “Now will you please get in and let me fuck you?” 

Harry mounts one knee onto the edge of the hot tub, his free hand jutting down against the marble for reinforcement as the other keeps her trapped against his body. “Yeah...Yeah, I think I will.” 

He crawls into the heated water, submerging up to his waist due to his height. Once he’s balanced himself within the pool, the palm pressed to the brim slips away, replacing the cold stone with the simmering skin of Y/N’s jaw once again. He tangles his fingers into her hair as he nurses her face to the side, deepening their prolonged kiss, and the whimper she pours into his mouth makes every cell in his body throb with longing. Y/N’s hands ride down his lean stomach and over his pelvic bones, fingers twitching the closer she gets to his cock. She stops right before she reaches his base, wracked with the slightest bit of shy hesitation. 

“Go ahead, doll.” Harry murmurs softly, hips bucking forward once against the pads of her digits. “I want you to touch me.”

Y/N’s palm disappears below the mounds of bubbles, cupping over his cock and giving it a rough grope. Harry gasps brokenly against her lips at the sensation, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards into a blissful simper when her breathing throttles just a smidge. Y/N gradually begins to work him below the gentle waves of the water, eyes rolling back when she feels him harden in her hold. She’ll never get used to how erotic it is having Harry shatter under her influence.

“I think it's funny,” she begins, voice delicate and humorous, contradicting the insistent actions she’s partaking below, “how you were threatening me with orgasm denial two minutes ago and now you’re being all nice.” 

The vampire thrusts slightly against her strokes, tiny noises escaping his taut throat as a familiar boiling begins to simmer in his veins. His tone is detached and pinched with the effort of maintaining composure. “S’hardly a fair point, considering you caught me off guard with that pet name.”

“Is that so?” The girl inquires playfully, giving the tip of his cock a hard squeeze and scoffing against his mouth when he releases a tight grunt. 

“Mm. You always…” Harry draws back from her intoxicating mouth, looking down at her over the crests of his tinted cheekbones to admire the faint imprint of his teeth along her swollen lips. His mind feels like it’s been pumped with syrup, thoughts swishing around lazily, his emotions still somewhat exposed from the mishap that had occurred during their breakfast serenade. It had been over two hours ago, but the wound was still fresh in his subconscious, causing small pinpricks of anxiety to stain his otherwise carefree personality. He feels as if his chest had been cut open with a scalpel, his insides had been rearranged out of order, and the gash had been resewn brutishly; he feels disarrayed and defiled. And because of some simple human girl who’s as fragile and insipidly transparent as glass. 

The immortal’s voice comes out as a whisper, carrying the weight of his confused, raw state. “You always catch me off guard.” 

Y/N blinks up at him innocently, gnawing on her bottom lip at his sweet compliment, her heart somersaulting within her ribcage. “You catch me off guard, too. Always keep me on my toes, which is something I was never really used to.” 

“Do you...” Harry forces down the lump in his throat, allowing himself to be vulnerable for the sake of seeking an answer. Though their problems are vastly different— she’s referring to her small-town, conservative mentality, whereas he’s shouldering two hundred years worth of emotional trauma— he’s more than happy to absorb any advice she could possibly offer. He needs to know how to shut this off; he hates feeling so unsure of himself. It’s like he’s wading through a forest blindfolded, disoriented and uncalibrated with no sense of direction or purpose. He hasn’t felt this helpless since… “Do you hate it?”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut, lashes dusting the apples of her cheeks in a way that Harry deems almost ethereal. She shakes her head lightly in his grasp, a hazy smile adorning her face. “Do I hate that you take me out of my comfort zone? I don’t think I do, actually. I like it. I like that every moment we spend together is something new. I was so used to following the status quo and retracing other’s steps, I never noticed how boring it all was. But you’re never boring. You make everything fun and adventurous, and it’s just so...” 

Y/N laughs a tad, trying to come up with a word she can’t quite place, too distracted in how her friend’s thumbs are caressing her jaw. The hand she has below the water has stopped its motions all together, her focus placed solely on the young man’s beautiful features. The copper specks in his eyes glitter in the white light of the bathroom, looking like polished amber gems. “Uhm...It’s...It’s so—”

“Scary...but exhilarating.” Harry finishes her sentence, a quivering sigh coaxing out of his tight chest. He feels like he’s going to vomit. 

Y/N bobs her head in agreement, hands drifting to wrap around his dainty wrists, giving them a soft squeeze as if to reassure herself that he’s real. “Yeah, that’s it. It’s...exciting, kind of.” 

The creature swallows heavily and releases her face, peeling his eyes away from Y/N’s for fear of letting her see him so defenseless, brows creasing in burning unsettlement. Instead, he lends his attention to outlining the speckling of white strewn into the dark marble of the bathroom wall, using that distraction to calm the raging in his belly. Out of the edge of his vision, he can see Y/N’s face fall, the grip she has on his wrists loosening. A spike of pain shoots through his unbeating heart— similar to what he had endured earlier— at the sadness behind her gesture, but he stifles it with stubborn spite. This isn’t him. It hasn’t been for decades now, and he’d grown to like it as so. In his experience, attachment leads to suffering, and suffering leads to misery. And with all of the centuries he has ahead of him, misery is the last companion he needs. 

Harry clears his throat emptily, slashing through the tension that had suspended in the air between them. He glimpses down at her, undoing the knot between his eyebrows and putting as much playful ease into his irises as he can muster, urging the corners of his lips into his signature smirk. “I guess we just excite each other, then. Though that’s become pretty obvious by now, I think.” 

Y/N purses her mouth to hide the immature grin his innuendo is attempting to weed out, all awkwardness dissipating from her aura. “I guess we do.” 

The monster ducks down to flirt his lips over the human’s, arms tying around her lower back and hiking her upwards. Y/N yelps in surprise, instinctively clamping her legs around his waist and giggling as he lugs her from side to side jokingly, pretending he’s about to drop her into the pool. “Why don’t we go back to exciting one another, hm?” 

Y/N’s nose rubs across the bridge of Harry’s and she gasps lightly when she feels the head of his cock prod at her entrance, dipping in a bit to tease her, spreading her open just enough to wheedle a soft hiss. She shivers in his arms despite the heat wafting up from the warm water, a very different type of warmth pouring into the area between her legs. The girl clings to the sides of the English boy’s neck, spinning a damp curl around her forefinger— he’d gotten his hair wet when he’d splashed into the jacuzzi, and the manner in which his ringlets are gluing across his flexing neck and sharp jaw is doing her in. 

She gives a small nod, eyes flickering down to his tempting lips and back up at his devious gaze. “Yeah, alright.” 

In Harry’s expert opinion, it’s safe to say they definitely excite each other. It’s pretty evident in the way their bodies mold perfectly, satisfying their own desires while simultaneously fulfilling the other’s. The vampire ends up sitting on top of the ledge that circles the inside wall of the pool, his head hanging over the edge with his mouth parted in an open grin, filthy moans and needy whines pouring from his tongue freely as Y/N rocks onto his slick cock. The girl balances herself on her knees, backside crashing down against his thighs in harsh slams full of reckless urgency— she needs this more than she’d ever care to admit. Her nails dig into Harry’s strong shoulders for stability, head thrown back in sheer bliss as her chest bounces with every thrust, the trench of her tummy rippling with contented heat. He just makes her feel so fucking full.

“God, y-you’re so big.” Y/N mewls, swinging her hips in small circles that draw an array of fractured sounds of pleasure from Harry’s taut throat. “You stretch me out so fucking good, Har.” 

Harry’s hands tighten into fists against the glossy plastic of the jacuzzi, arms slung casually over the sides of the tub in a relaxed posture. He doesn’t want to bother with taking control at this particular moment; he’s too busy reveling in the ecstasy Y/N is pounding into his system. He jolts with every rough dip of her hips, the corners of his raw lips winking his dimples awake as he looks up at her through barely-cracked eyes, the weight of his mounting orgasm heavy on his lashes. “Love that cock, don’t you? Can tell by the way you always kiss it right before you take it down your throat.” 

Y/N grapples onto her friend's neck blindly, one palm grasping the center of his jugular as the other cradles his defined jaw, her thumb smearing across his lips as a result of her choppy movements. Harry cranes his head forward a bit to get a better view, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of her finger as an appreciative thrum rumbles against the hand she has covering his Adam’s Apple. “You look so beautiful when you fuck me all desperate like that.”

Y/N whimpers as she swivels against his lap eagerly, driving herself towards a climax that she knows will leave her utterly ruined. Harry glances down to where their centers meet below the water, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he peers through the violently sloshing waves and frothy suds, watching Y/N glide over him easily now that she’d gotten used to his size. He leans forward, slowly planting a trail of suckling kisses up the center of his friend’s tummy and over the valley of her chest, looking upwards through his long lashes and smiling lewdly into her flesh every time her walls squeeze at the action. She’s so snug around him, he’s convinced no one could ever fit him this well. 

His words come out as a raspy growl. “You’re such a tight little thing. Never get tired of that perfect cunt. S’like you were made to take me this deep.” 

Y/N collapses forward, her grip shooting up to trade his face with his drenched curls. She sponges her mouth messily over his, gasping onto his tongue as the motions of the water batter against her sensitive clit. Her brows cinch with hunger, tone pleading. “Touch me. Please? Want— Want your hands on me while I ride you.” 

Harry shakes his head tauntingly, licking across her top lip and teething at the crescent above it. “I don’t think so, angel. I like seeing you do all the work, for once. You look so good using me to get yourself off.” 

The girl fists at his hair almost cruelly, her sanity gradually slipping. “But I...I like it when you use me, too.” 

“Trust me, I’m well aware.” The vampire muses arrogantly, spreading his meaty thighs wider so that her strokes have a more profound impact. His position works as intended, seen in how Y/N slows for a second when she sinks down to the hilt, a breathy, “Fuck, that’s so deep.” scraping past the cracks of her gritted teeth. 

Harry bucks upward symbolically, signaling for her to regain her rhythm; one look at his dominantly smug expression has her abiding instantly. He lays his head against his bare shoulder, studying every clench of her belly and every heave of her breasts, etching this picture into his extensive list of memories. His voice flows out as thick and silky as molasses. “I just can’t get enough of watching you make yourself cum around my cock.” 

“I j-just want you to fuck me.” Y/N is nearly sobbing, her fingertips carving into his scalp as she kisses over his colored cheeks and tinged nose, trying to swindle him into giving her what she wants. “I’ll do anything you want. Promise.” 

“Always so willing, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles darkly, groaning lightly when she suddenly tenses around his length. He can feel his nails breaking the skin of his palms as his fists contract. “You want me to make you scream, is that it? Want Daddy to pound you until you can’t stand anymore?”  

Hearing him refer to himself that way sends electricity coursing down her spine. “Want it so bad.” 

The creature reaches up with his index finger and brushes a sopping strand of hair out of Y/N’s face, tucking it behind her ear and tracing down her cheekbone admiringly. After a few seconds of thought, he appraises her with a decision, licking across his top teeth and pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek teasingly. “Let’s make a deal, then. How about you get yourself right on the edge for me, and then I’ll flip you around and finish you off. Sound fair?” 

Y/N doesn’t need to be told twice. She regains her previous stride with more fervor and speed, hellbent on pushing herself to the seam of climax so she can let Harry take the reins. The young man watches her with sinful intent tainting the emerald of his irises, the golden smudges around his pupils glinting blood red for a single heartbeat. He decides he’ll lend his expertise just once, extending his arm and fiddling with the settings on the control panel of the hot tub, preparing a surprise he knows his guest will thoroughly enjoy. 

When the jets suddenly rumble to life, Y/N’s jumps in shock, the loud sound startling her clouded brain. But then two concentrated streams of water hit her right between her legs and she nearly faints as newfound bliss erupts through every fiber of her being. The insistent spray toys with her clit in a fashion that is indescribable, revving her closer to release as the overwhelming sensation pairs with the rapture Harry’s cock is hammering into her. She won’t last long, and he knows it. 

The monster eyes her reaction attentively, his forefinger lulling upwards across the water-proof screen of the controls, raising the intensity of the jets. The fragmented moan that betrays the human goes right to his core. He then slides his finger back down, reducing the powerful force to softer bursts. Y/N whines in protest against his mouth, begging him to set it higher like before. And Harry does, giving her exactly what she craves with one easy swoop. Y/N’s forehead falls against his jaw, her shallow breaths puffing down his collarbones and heating his icy skin. 

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!” 

Harry continues to play with the settings, teasing her with waves of strong geysers and gentle trickles. Soon enough, he’s perched behind her, her back sticky against his wet chest as she holds herself up on her knees against the marble seat, hands clamped around the metal railing that runs the circumference of the pool. The pole helps her brace his unforgiving pace, her entire body jerking forward with every ram of his hips as small hiccups of pleasure float across the fogged air of the bathroom. Harry takes the shell of her ear between his teeth, biting down with no remorse as Y/N pushes back to meet his adamant thrusts, his coral-lacquered digits sifting between her own around the polished metal. She gets a bleary glimpse of the cross tattoo inked onto his hand as she can’t help but snort softly at the irony. 

“Is something funny, love?” Harry’s deep baritone causes chills to wring down her arms. 

“Your cross tattoo,” Y/N chokes out, a soft grunt interrupting her sentence as the head of the boy’s prick nudges the pit of her abdomen, “it’s just so ironic.” 

It is ironic. Harry had gotten it for that sole purpose— to mock the fact that he was deceased. He didn’t get to have a tombstone, so this is the next best thing: a symbolic one, of sorts, sketched into his skin for the rest of his undead life. A bit morbid, but he quite fancies dark humor, given what he is. 

However, he knows Y/N finds it ironic for much different, much unholier reasons. 

“You wanna know what’s really ironic?” Harry quips, bottoming out harshly and cooing into the back of her neck when the mortal’s shoulders give a spasm in response. His tone is a mocking whisper. “That such an innocent-looking thing like you loves the idea of being my shameless little whore.” 

Y/N’s cheeks boil at his explicit comment, a delicate whimper striking her vocal chords. One of Harry’s hands leaves its post on top of hers, tangling into her wet locks and giving her hair a ruthless yank. He guides her head into the nook between his shoulder and neck, spitting his next words out against the thundering pulse in her temple.

“You’re nothing but Daddy’s little filthy fucking slut. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N nods frantically in his authoritative grasp, struggling to swallow due to the combination of his unyielding tempo and erotic statements.  

Harry twists her hair around his knuckles, drawing a broken mewl from her raw lips as his teeth skim along the top of her cheekbone. “Words. Now.”

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.” 

Harry scoffs in entertained disbelief at how willing she is to submit to him, pecking a kiss to the corner of her eye and tasting a salty tear across his tongue. He redirects her head forward, grinning into the side of her scalp. “You should see the way you smile when you say it.” 

Y/N can’t help it. It just feels so right with him— she feels oddly safe, knowing that what they share is something neither of them will ever give to anyone else. Their arrangement is one of a kind; they fit each other so flawlessly, nobody could ever possibly come close. And she doesn’t want anyone to try— doesn’t want anyone attempting to replace him. Harry just fills the gap perfectly, and she wouldn’t dream of letting another man do what he does to her. Not when she has Harry near, willing to mumble as many graphic promises into her ear as she wants, all while he fucks a sweltering throb into the area between her thighs.

The human girl finds herself wishing this could last an eternity. Little does she know that if it wasn’t for her mortal ignorance and Harry’s better judgement, it very well could. 

///

Later in the day, Harry vaguely recalls how the week prior he had made a passing joke to Y/N about how her sexual drive matches that of a rabbit. What happens in the evening makes him stand by that comment. 

They order in Chinese for dinner, and Y/N insists on eating out on the balcony, wanting to get a perfect view of the sun setting over the city skyline. She has never experienced the phenomenon from such a pristine view. 

Harry allows it, but only after parenting her into putting on a jacket to avoid catching a cold, sending her back into the condo in search of one as he sets out their meal atop the multicolored glass table outside. Humans are so sensitive, and the last thing he needs is his booty call nearly dying from a case of the sniffles.

She comes back out clad in his patchwork cardigan, wrapping it around her body snugly as she sits with her legs crossed on the patio chair, fitting her box of takeout into the hole created by her thighs. The fluffy knitwork had been the first coat she had found hanging in his humongous closet, and she’d thrown it on without a second thought, too caught up in the excitement of getting to see such a picturesque sight in real life. It’s warm and smells of Harry’s vanilla tobacco cologne, along with hints of other scents, like his chamomile and mandarin shampoo and spiced deodorant. She’d been more than happy to inhabit it.

Harry isn’t sure why, but seeing her sitting across from him on his balcony in a pair of his maroon plaid Calvin Klein boxers, his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt, and blanketed within his oversized rainbow cardigan, all while her hair falls across her face and tickles her jaw… It makes a fond smile buckle his cheeks, though he manages to tame it quickly. 

They chat casually as they eat, sharing silly stories and experiences as they pick at their stir-fry, taking periodic sips of the cranberry juice Harry keeps stocked in his fridge. He doesn’t know the science behind it— though he highly doubts there’s any valid scientific explanation behind the magic that runs through his supernatural veins— but he’s come to find that cranberries help curb his cravings. It’s why he always has a liter on hand. 

Y/N informs Harry on how her work week had gone, and about how one of her friends back home had gotten engaged recently. She says it all seems so surreal and that she doubts the girl will actually go through with it, which makes the monster burst into laughter, much to her confusion. Harry thinks that this is probably the first time he’s ever seen Y/N be so blatantly pessimistic; it’s strangely comical. Just hearing her opinion on the situation is enough to send anyone into a cackle fit, especially when she says it with such a straight face. “Yeah, I just don’t think she’ll do it. She says she loves him, but she always used to complain about his foot fetish, and I’m pretty sure she’d go insane if she had to put up with that for the rest of her life.” 

Harry wards off another bundle of giggles, pursing his twitching lips and bobbing his head once in understanding, using his chopsticks to pop a piece of fried duck into his mouth. “That’s a valid reason to abandon anyone at the altar, if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“I know, right? She told me he likes sucking whipped cream off her toes and, like, not to kinkshame, because I obviously have my own weird shit going on—”

“Yeah, I can attest to that.” Harry shrugs his eyebrows suggestively, picking a small chunk of broccoli off his utensil and smirking as he chews slowly. “Decently weird, actually.”

Y/N gifts him a deadpan expression, shoving a piece of veggie dumpling into her mouth and choosing to ignore his dig. “Anyways, I feel like that one is just on a whole other level. Like...what the fuck?”

Harry shares an anecdote about his own friends, as well, feeling that if he doesn’t open up at least a smidge, she'll start becoming suspicious. He recounts the time when he and Mitch had snuck into a Fleetwood Mac concert and met Stevie Nicks, though he’s careful enough not to tell her the date the event had occurred. He just lets her deduce it was one of their more recent tours, when in reality, it had been back in the eighties. The other detail Harry leaves off is the fact that he had tried to seduce Stevie, emphasis being on “tried.” It hadn’t stuck, unfortunately, and what had made the experience even more mortifying is that his idol had taken an interest in Mitch instead. Harry’s ego has yet to recover from that blow; first, because Mitch had the sheer gall to reject the celebrity on the grounds that he wasn’t looking to get involved in any public scandals, and secondly because his best friend refuses to ever let him live it down. “Hey, remember when we met Stevie Nicks and she wanted to fuck me instead of you? Good times, man.”

When the sun finally begins to dip over the horizon, their conversation dies off, replaced by the serene sounds of distant traffic and a light wind picking up as the temperature begins to drop for the night. Y/N stares at the sky in childish wonder as the bright blue starts to darken, streaking with mellow oranges, pastel purples, and buttery yellows, the colors painting across the clouds and giving the bustling city a timeless quality that can only be truly appreciated firsthand. A small, dreamy smile spreads across Y/N’s lips as the gorgeous canvas reflects off the glossy surface of her irises, her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms hugging her knees. She gazes wistfully over the place she has now grown to call home, taking in all it has to offer for the first time in two months, feeling oddly at ease despite the fact that she usually feels lonely wandering its streets. 

The mixture of drunken hues casts a hazy glow across her skin and hair, dim stars beginning to twinkle in space as the moon makes its debut. Y/N delights herself with watching the scene unfold, surveying the endless stretch of sky and soaking in its natural beauty. And as Y/N stares across Los Angeles during one of its most breath-taking moments, Harry finds himself staring at her instead. 

Once darkness has soaked across the skyscrapers and roads of California for the night, Y/N and Harry turn in, as well. They end up splayed across Harry’s leather couch, entertaining a new episode of Sugar Rush on the ninety-inch flat screen mounted on his glass wall; it’s simply in order to take up the last couple of hours left before bed. By some inexplicable miracle, the vampire had managed to actually fall asleep last night after he and his visitor had finished their regularly scheduled activities. He doubts he’ll be that lucky tonight, but he has no choice but to play the part for the sake of keeping up appearances. 

Maybe if the universe is feeling exceptionally generous, the human will fall asleep while they’re watching TV and Harry can just carry her up to his room without having to put on an act. It’s a favorable alternative to having to fake sleep until she gives into fatigue; lying awake with his eyes closed for an hour would make him feel as stupid as Niall’s golfing addiction. 

However, it appears that for the time being, Y/N has other plans to bring forward some tried and true exhaustion.

There’s nothing particularly sexual about the fashion in which their bodies are pressed together at the moment, given that it’s a pretty innocent snuggling position. Harry is slumped against the backrest of the sofa with his feet propped on his coffee table, comfy in a pair of black jogging shorts and a vintage Rolling Stones tee. Y/N is nestled into his torso beside him, her head burrowed into his chest with his arm slung nonchalantly across her shoulders and down her back, legs intertwined with his. She had done it out of instinct and Harry doesn’t really have an issue with the gesture; she’s warm and soft and the soothing action of her socked foot running up and down his calf helps him unwind from the day’s events. He likes this, he decides. She smells like him— with her usual scent of honey and lavender permeating through— and she’s decked out in his clothes, aimlessly doodling figures onto his tummy as they enjoy the baking show in comfortable silence. It’s strangely mellow. 

Y/N is the one who instigates, as usual. Humans are so horny, it’s ridiculous. But he benefits from this specific mortal’s libido, so he’s not complaining. 

It starts with her drifting upwards from where she’d been tracing over his butterfly tattoo, her warm fingers stroking over the prominent structure of his clavicle, her eyes flickering up to gauge his reaction. Harry doesn’t move an inch, face maintaining a curtain of calm indifference. He figures she’s just extra touchy, as she normally is. Then the pads of her digits skim across the side of his throat and an impulsive flare of panic pricks the back of his skull, but it quickly dissolves, as it tends to do now around her. She’s the only person in the last two centuries who has managed to touch him there without inciting a rampage. 

Y/N coasts across the nape of his neck, twirling a baby curl around her forefinger distractedly, giving it a small tug in the manner she knows he likes. Harry’s body tightens for a split second and she bites into her lower lip to muffle a mischievous grin. She stretches up, dusting a lingering peck to the curve right behind his ear, running her nose across the shell tenderly. The vampire shifts slightly in his seat, the feathery sensation beginning to weigh at the pit of his stomach. She’s teasing him, and it’s working. 

The mortal flushes her puckered mouth fully to the side of his jugular, rubbing the ridges of her skin over one of the veins chiseling into existence, right over the area where a heartbeat used to lie. Harry’s hand balls into a fist against the dip of her spine, itching to grip onto something to keep his cool. Preferably, her throat. 

When Y/N finally speaks, the hot breath of her words makes his cock twitch against his thigh. “Wanna kiss a bit?” 

Harry cranes his head to look at her, eyebrows jumping up in amusement. “You wanna make-out? What are we, fourteen?”

The girl gives him an impassive pout and glances indicatively towards the armrest of the couch, where they had sat the evening prior while admiring his art wall. “You didn’t have a problem with it last night.” 

Harry presses his lips together into a playful simper. She makes a valid point. “Well, I was horny last night. Wasn’t in my right mind.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

“And you’re not now?” She prods softly, her gaze slinking down to his spread thighs, almost as if to check if he’s hard. Harry snorts as her action and she bats her lashes up at him with fake innocence, muscling down the sly smirk threatening to emerge across her face. 

“Not really, but maybe I could be…” The creature glimpses at her colored mouth for a heartbeat, reaching a hand up and pushing his air-dried ringlets back from his forehead, lips twitching coyly. “Persuaded.”

Y/N leans forward, buttoning their mouths for a fleeting moment. She pulls back a tad, ghosting the crescent of her top lip over his to try and compel him. “Please?” 

“Mm,” Harry licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes half-lidded tauntingly, “I don’t think that was enough. Show some team spirit, will you?”

The girl gifts him another kiss, this one longer and more intense, a palm making its way to cup his jaw. “Please, H?” 

He’s begun to pant lightly, hand flattening across the small of her back as if to guide her somewhere. He blinks down at her smugly, gnawing into his cheek. “You’re not quite there. Maybe a little more.” 

It turns out one more kiss is enough to convince his metaphorical meter. Y/N ends up perched in his lap, both of his large hands groping at her ass as she clutches the back of his neck, their lips sewn together in a filthy kiss full of gentle whines and impatient tongues. It’s going pretty great, and Harry thinks that Y/N is probably one of the most fun people he’s ever had the pleasure of kissing. Her mouth is as sweet as the sugary scent she always dotes, she ebbs and flows to his movements seamlessly, and the enthusiasm she carries makes every nerve in his body fizzle. The noises she makes are incredibly satisfying, as well. All her needy mewls and delicate whimpers string right down to his groin. 

After a few minutes of dry humping and jesting bites placed on overzealous lips, Harry boosts himself up from his relaxed position, feet knocking off the coffee table as an arm snakes around her hips. He sits forward, extending his free hand and waving it around blindly, too occupied to willingly break their embrace. He refuses to pull away, especially when she’s gluing such dirty moans to the roof of his mouth. His palm swings across the air stubbornly until it finally slaps down against the marble surface he’d been searching for, his grip tightening around its rim for confirmation. He proceeds to scoot the counter forward, intent on laying Y/N out on top so he can get on his knees against his furry carpet, get his boxers down her velvety legs, and get his head bobbing between her quivering thighs. 

Harry’s plan is about to pan out ideally until a high-pitched shriek cuts through the tense ambiance of the room. 

Y/N cracks their kiss, gasping and heaving as her head whizzes from side to side, looking for the origin of the annoying trill that had interrupted their playtime. “What—What is that?”

The vampire glances over his back towards where the ruckus is stemming, the insistent chime grating his heightened ears. He spots the culprit immediately, releasing an irritated groan as a result: his phone. 

From his spot on the edge of the couch, Mitch’s contact picture blazes across the screen. Harry loves that photo of his best friend— the way his emotionless expression and skinny middle finger are directed towards the camera makes it a wonderful shot— but he really wishes he didn’t have to see it right now. He has other more pressing matters. Literal pressing matters, if the tent in his mesh shorts is any indication. 

“Just ignore it.” Harry murmurs, turning back to slam their lips together once again. Y/N obliges without a second thought, happily re-engaging her previous activity of smudging her cupid’s bow across her friend’s as he stretches her out across the table 

Ignoring it works the first time. And the second. But by the third call, Harry has no choice but to break away with an exasperated grunt, his brittle patience forcing him to handle the blaring ringtone. 

He slides his thumb across the screen roughly, bringing it to his ear as he slumps back into the couch cushions, holding up a finger towards Y/N apologetically and mouthing a quick, “It’ll be just a second.”

His guest nods in understanding, letting her head fall back against the cold marble and distracting herself by counting all of the lightbulbs situated at the peaks of the chandeliers above. 

Harry turns his focus to the person on the other end of the phone line, voice snipped with aggravated anger. “What?!”

“Whoa, okay… That’s no way to talk to the elderly. Take it down a notch, Grumpy. Didn’t Snow White teach you any manners?”

The monster takes a deep breath to keep his rage in check, gritting out his words through bared teeth. “I’m fucking busy right now. What do you want?”

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry to be a bother, My Lord. I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you have all your stuff packed for tomorrow. Y’know, like the good friend I am.”

Harry blinks blankly, all indignation flooding out of his system, replaced by utter confusion. “You wanted to check if I’m...? For what? Why would I need to pack?”

There’s a pause on Mitch’s end, as if the man is waiting for Harry to come to the conclusion himself, static filling the speaker. When it’s obvious the younger vampire is clueless, his best friend elaborates slowly. “For the trip. The Vegas trip. The one we take every year around the same time. The one that we all agreed we’d roadtrip in your car tomorrow.”

Harry’s eyes widen in realization, his entire face paling. Fuck.

“The trip.” He mumbles, the fingers of his free hand coming up to rub at his temples worriedly as his mistake dawns on him. “God, I completely forgot about it.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Mitch deadpans, a long sigh following his comment. “Harry, you’re the one that booked the hotel this time. How could you possibly forget?”

“I…” Harry glances over at Y/N as guilt weighs into his demeanor. The girl meets his gaze, smiling sweetly and waving, completely unaware of the horrific ordeal he’s gotten himself into by inviting her over. “I got caught up with something.” 

A humorless snort crackles through the stereo of his phone, Mitch’s voice tinged with irked disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what you’ve been saying for the last four weeks now every time you bail on us. I just figured you’d get your head out of your ass for this one, but I suppose I spoke too soon.”

Harry drags his palm down his face, gripping his chin in thought. “I’m sorry. Genuinely. I didn’t mean to let it slip, I’ve just been so occupied during the last couple of weekends that—”

“That you forgot about our yearly trip. How nice. Just perfect.”

“Mitch, I know I fucked up, alright? But what if—”

The immortal’s solution gets cut short when out of his peripheral vision, he sees Y/N climb off the coffee table and onto the carpet below. Harry’s words lodge in his throat as he watches the girl crawl on all fours across the ground towards him, a cheeky smile ticking the corners of her lips as her irises glimmer schemingly. Shit.

“‘What if’ what?”

“What if...Uhm…” Harry finds himself struggling to keep his end of the conversation going, the reason being that Y/N has now reached the edge of the sofa where he resides. She sits back onto her heels, walking her fingers teasingly across his knees and grasping them with her palms, parting them open widely. “I…”

“For fuck’s sake, H, what are you trying to say?” Mitch snaps; even through the distance, he can feel its bite. 

Y/N nuzzles herself between Harry’s opened legs, a hand riding up one of his thick thigh as she sponges wet kisses to his kneecap, grinning into his skin when her fingers duck under the material of his shorts. His cadence comes out strained with the effort of keeping up an unfazed front. “What if I— what if we switch the reservations?” 

“How do you mean?”

The human’s fingers travel up the length of his inner thigh, sneaking below his cotton briefs and giving the tip of his semi-hard cock a gentle caress. Harry writhes in his seat, watching with bated breath as Y/N draws her forearm back out from beneath his clothes, her middle finger covered in a bead of precum— a result of all the grinding they’d done while kissing. She locks eyes with him and pushes the digit past her swollen lips, sucking off the small droplet while her lashes flutter in pleasure. She moans softly, his familiar saltiness always so welcomed. Her next whisper is sultry and needy. “You taste so fucking good.” 

Harry swallows down a groan and his voice suffers the consequences, coming out shaky and high. “Like...Like what if we switch out the n-names. I could call the hotel and put the rooms under your info instead.”

Mitch is quiet for a second, mulling over his friend’s offer. The instance is long enough for Harry to reach forward and snatch Y/N’s wrist, giving it a dominant squeeze as a scolding grimace dips the ends of his lips and furrows his brows. He mouths his words slowly with an ominous hue, making sure she interprets the message. “That’s enough.”

Y/N twists herself free of his hold, eyes gleaming in challenge. She talks softly as to not be heard through the phone, but she might as well be screaming thanks to Harry’s supernatural hearing abilities. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you really not going, then?”

The gentle tone of Mitch’s question snaps Harry back into reality. He feels bad for flaking on his crew, but he doesn’t really have a choice at this point. Y/N is already here per his request, and kicking her out would be extremely dickish, even by his standards. “I’m booked the rest of the weekend, mate. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Y/N proceeds to grab onto the elastic band of Harry’s shorts, pulling the front down to expose the clothed bulge that lies beneath. A soiled patch has formed over the material of his underwear, and he can see her irises twinkle in satisfaction, which causes the faint burning in his veins to intensify. The girl palms him through the fabric, preening at the low, tight grunt that escapes Harry’s flexing throat. A shiver pin-balls down his spine and he tries to grab at her forearm to wrench it away from between his legs, but Y/N is determined to work him into a mess, simply groping him more intently and giggling lightly when his hips thrash in response. 

“Alright, I guess that settles it. I’ll just tell the group we’re taking Niall’s car instead, and that Adam and I will take turns driving. Just get the lodging handled, will you?”

“‘Course, I got it, don’t worry.” Harry chokes out, reaching a hand towards Y/N’s hair in a desperate attempt to get a hold of her, but she ducks to evade him. She tugs down his final layer of protection, her mouth immediately finding its way to his large cock and giving it one long lap from base to tip, staring up at him mockingly from beneath heavy lashes. She grasps it in both of her palms, gifting it a few quick pumps and spitting over the head sloppily, rubbing the slit across her bottom lip as she quirks her brows at him in a dare. 

The vampire fails to ward off the fracture in his composure this time. “Christ, you’re such a fucking sl—” 

He stops himself before he finishes the graphic statement, remembering that everything he says is being directly broadcast to someone else on the other end of his phone. Someone who’s oblivious to the filth currently taking place on Harry’s side of the call. “I’m on it, yeah? I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Wait.”

Harry is at the verge of tearing his hair out, his tone teetering at the cusp of sanity. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind telling me why you’re not going? I feel like everyone at least deserves an explanation, especially since you’re dipping on the plans literally the day before.”

The young man quickly clears his throat, forcing himself to keep control as he watches the mortal stick her entire tongue out to run his cock up and down its expanse. “I’ll—I’ll explain when you come back.” 

The textured surface sends zaps of lightning surging through every crevice of Harry’s body, but he somehow enables restraint, as weak as it may be. He silently warns Y/N once again about her actions, carding his fingers into her hair and digging the pads into her scalp. “Stop.”

“Also, why are you breathing so hard? What are you even up to right now?”

The human ignores his command, blowing over the leaking hole of his prick and giving it a playful kiss.

“I’m— fuck— I’m...I’m on the treadmill.”

Mitch goes quiet for a heartbeat. “You don’t have a treadmill.” 

Y/N tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning down to rest her cheek along Harry’s inner thigh, giving him the perfect angle to view what she’s about to do. She presses her head forward, slipping his entire cock down her throat and gagging when it hits a sensitive spot in the back, her nails raking down his twitching tummy. She keeps him there for an elongated moment, allowing her walls to tighten around his length just how he likes it, toying with his swollen balls and moaning quietly around his prick. He can feel the vibrations burrow into the marrow of his bones.

“I told you to stop.” He doesn’t even bother mouthing his words this time, mood dark and cautious. He can hear Mitch exclaim in confusion through his speaker, but it’s the last thing on his mind right now. 

Y/N’s watery eyes dance with a devious gleam as she grins around his girth, removing him just enough so she can breath properly, rubbing his bubbling tip along the inside of her silky cheek. Her phrase is muffled, but it’s clear enough to completely shatter him. “Make me, Daddy.”

Harry’s features harden. He’s done playing games. 

He directs his attention to the microphone, voice calm and collected to the point where it’s frightening, all the tension and instability crumbling to ash. His brows crease dangerously, accent thicker than she’s ever heard it. “I have to go.”

“Harry—”

“I’ll text you after I fix the booking.” 

The device beeps and the call ends, the phone falling face-down onto the couch.

The vampire roughly jerks Y/N back by her hair, sitting forward until their noses brush, his cold touch sending a prickling across her cheeks and ears. He addresses her with the same type of undisturbed patience he’d shown his friend, aura teeming with quiet power.

“Get up. Now.” 

Y/N ends up with her back pressed into the couch cushions, Harry suspended above her with his knees on either sides of her hips, his cock ramming down her throat harshly as he guides her head with his knuckles twisted into her roots. He’s thrusting forward to meet her mouth, the emerald around his pupils electric with a type of carnal dominance that makes heat pour into her belly. She’s gazing up at him with water streaming freely out of her eyes and spit dripping down her chin, her hands fisting at the leather of the sofa as he fucks her face unrelentingly. 

“You think that little stunt was cute? You think teasing me like that was fun?” He growls as he peers down at her, ramming past her raw lips with no remorse, swimming in the damp choking sounds that bounce back from the furniture in the room. “Open wider. Wider.”

She obeys. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To have me down your throat while you gag around it until you can barely breath? To choke on it while you take that heavy load and swallow every drop?”

Y/N bobs her head feverishly, unable to form any coherent sentences due to his violent pace. 

The grip Harry has on the crown of her head tightens, his other hand cupping the back of her skull to push her deeper down his shaft, her nose smearing over his happy trail as his heavy balls bump against her slobbery chin. “Take that fucking cock, then. Take every inch like the filthy fucking brat you are.”

Y/N’s blurry eyes lull shut, the edges of her stinging mouth curving upwards as he hits every single one of her desires with a skill only he possesses. She doesn’t know why— or if it’s even healthy, at this point— but she’s never felt more pleasure than when she’s at Harry’s disposal. She just loves seeing him come undone for her. 

“God, you like that, don’t you? Like being my little plaything?” The grin dimpling Harry’s cheeks is so utterly erotic and sinful, Y/N feels like she’s damning her soul just by glimpsing at it. He delicately thumbs tears off her cheekbones, contradicting his other much less tame motions. “Baby just wants to feel Daddy cum down her throat, doesn’t she?”

Stars begin spotting the girl’s vision, her mind vignetting as a fulfilling ache settles into her jugular. She nods her head drunkenly, coughing dryly as her lungs rattle with shallow inhales. 

Harry gives an exceptionally hard stroke, holding her in place and feeling her constrict around him, her nails digging into the aged leather of his sofa. He takes a pause, broad chest heaving as his head falls back to hang between his shoulder blades, the golden light of his chandeliers reflecting off the red shade inking his irises. His climax begins to tip into his blood. “Say it. Be a good girl and say, ‘please cum for me, Daddy.’”

Y/N’s voice floats out raspy and trembling as she ogles up at the monster wishfully, her ability to speak absolutely frayed from the exertion she’s been put through. Her sentence is barely comprehensible given her full mouth, but watching her try is what gets Harry off. “P-Please cum for me, Daddy.”

Thick ribbons of warmth suddenly erupt down her throat, coaxing a series of garbled moans to pour from Harry’s chest. His whole body tightens as an orgasm floods his system, the muscles of his back drawing taut, his defined biceps jolting, and his lean abdomen clenching in ecstasy. His fern tattoos ripple over his tanned skin as he gives a few more deep strokes for good measure, milking himself to completion and drinking up the tiny noises of sensitivity Y/N makes. He finishes dishing the punishment she’d earned, delivering burst after burst of cum just as he’d promised, feeling her flex around his slick cock as she eagerly swallows every spurt. 

“Every last bit, baby. All of it. Christ, that’s my fucking girl. ”

The boy cranes his neck forward again, taking in her disheveled appearance and humming in needy appreciation. Her hair is a disaster from all of his tugging, her eyes are puffy and red, and her lips are flushed and plump. There’s trails of dried tears tracing her cheeks and across her jaw, the collar of her borrowed shirt is soggy with spit, and he can just barely make out the damp patch she’s stained into his boxers along the insides of her thighs. She’s fiddling with her fingers across her lap, continuously shifting around in her seat and clamping her legs together, and Harry comes to the realization that she’s trying to ride the seam of his briefs in order to get a spoonful of relief. 

In his sexually demented opinion, she’s looks like a proper angel.

Harry gradually withdraws himself from her mouth, watching with empty content as she sputters into a coughing fit and gulps down air as if she hasn’t had it for weeks. She wipes at the lower half of her face messily with the back of her hand, staring up at him all moony and soft, feeling her cheeks boil at his conceited simper. The vampire carefully tucks his drenched prick back into his clothes, crouching down to her level and lilting his head to the side, tucking a strand of tangled hair behind her heated ear. The pads of his digits streak down the front of her neck and perch at the hollow between her collarbones, her pulse thundering beneath her sweaty flesh. He taps at the center of her throat for significance, tone fond and almost caring. “Is it sore?”

Y/N struggles to get saliva down, rattling her head in agreement since her vocal chords are refusing to work. 

Harry folds the hem of his tee over his fingers, reaching forward to help clean up anything leftover across her chin and jaw. Y/N eyes him with a form of detached admiration, enamored with the way he tends to her so gently now that the session has come to a close. 

“You like it, though, right?” 

The young woman doesn’t even try to mask the fact that she indeed does, nodding her head once again. 

“That’s good to hear, pet.” Harry drops his shirt back over his belly, giving her a chaste peck to the nose. Despite the ever-present coldness of his touch, the action sparks a warm glow that surges from the tips of her ears to the heels of her feet. “Want to make sure I wasn’t being too rough.” 

He stands up onto his knees, dismounting the sofa and combing a few rouge curls out of his eyes, nudging at her socked foot jestingly with his. Y/N kicks him in return as she busies herself with combing out the knots from her mussed locks, attempting to distract herself from the gnawing running along the inside of her stomach. She needs to get it sedated, but she’s too timid to ask the vampire outright, which she knows is ironic given what they’d just done. 

Harry sits down along the marble counter of the coffee table with his forearms propped along his knees, toying with his lionhead daylight ring (it’s the only one he wears at home, out of necessity) as he watches her tend to the mess he’d created. He smiles to himself in satisfied amusement— she always looks so pretty freshly face-fucked. 

The monster then notices how the human is still rubbing her thighs together, reminding him that she had been left unattended. He decides that he should do what any gentleman would and provide assistance to the issue; it’s only fair, according to the unspoken laws of their little mutual arrangement. He hooks his fingers along the rim of the table beneath him, dragging it forward until his knees meet the edge of the couch, knocking hers open slightly. He leans back onto his palms as she gives him a curious glance, the olive tone around his pupils glittering with hunger while his fingers tap knowingly along the surface below. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry’s eyebrows kink upward. “Can’t a man look in his own home?”

“Of course he can, but just not at me. Staring’s rude. Especially when I’m covered in spit and bodily fluids.”

The boy gives an exaggerated pout, pairing it with a set of puppy dog eyes and a honeyed drawl. “But you look so cute covered in my bodily fluids.”

Y/N stares at him flatly. “Wow. I’m so flattered. I’ll file that compliment right under the one where you said I look adorable with jizz all over my eyelashes.” 

“Well, you do! And that was a great compliment, if you think about it. It’s unique and creative— very avant-garde of me.”

“You need brain cells in order to be avant-garde.”

“Just shut up and get on your hands and knees.” 

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night. 

He knows Mitch would scold him for it, considering the quota for draft beverages from mortal taps is strictly once a week, per his orders. But the creature just can’t help himself. She smells so sweet, and her neck looks so tempting when her head is turned to the side in sleep; even in the dark, he can see her veins pumping beneath the taut skin. He justifies it by telling himself that any vampire would give into weakness if they were in his place, and it’s not like he’s some uncultured, unhinged newborn who lacks basic control. He’s spent decades refining his impulses and taming his animalistic instincts to the point where he can walk through a butcher shop and not even bat an eye. He’s more than capable of double-dipping without threatening her life. 

However, Harry will admit that he does make some embarrassing sounds while he’s fang-deep in her carotid artery. He can’t be expected to withhold them, especially not with how good she tastes. Y/N’s blood reminds him of so many things that he can’t ever quite place its flavor. Sometimes it reminds him of green grapes and champagne, and others it dawns on him in the form of peaches and cream. There’s instances where she doesn’t even fall into the usual spectrum of taste, but rather reminds him of sensations instead of tangible objects. Sometimes she tastes the way the first breath of spring feels— light and soothing, with hints of fresh florals and dewy mornings. Other times, she tastes like strawberries on a summer evening— warm, tangy, and nostalgic. At the risk of sounding like a brain-dead junky, drinking from Y/N is a magical experience that he wishes could last forever; Harry has never found it more difficult to pull back from someone’s throat than when he has to recede from hers. 

After the immortal has had his fill, he pricks his finger along one of his fangs and smears a drop of his blood onto Y/N’s tongue, watching the two gaping holes on her neck heal instantaneously and leave behind a faint bruise that will likely be gone by morning. He spends the rest of the night twirling stands of her hair around his fingers and counting her heartbeats, vaguely wondering what it feels like to have one. It’s been so long since he’s carried a pulse, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have it thumping in his chest. All he has left is a phantom organ and not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss its steady rhythm. 

The second the first beam of sunlight filters in through the crack in Harry’s window shades, he’s up on his feet pacing around the kitchen, going through his daily morning routine of preparing breakfast with a lively soundtrack to keep him company. That is, until his actual companion awakens; then he happily replaces his playlist with her groggy voice and tired eyes. 

Harry has chosen to prepare parfaits as their first meal of the day, scooping vanilla yogurt into two marbled bowls and setting out an abundant array of toppings, smiling to himself at the way Y/N’s eyes light up the room. She fills her platter to the brim with blueberries, chunks of banana, diced peaches, and crushed walnuts, while Harry loads his with tons of raspberries, slices of mango, scoops of granola, and plenty of honey. He runs into some trouble halfway through squeezing out the last ingredient, proceeding to shake it vigorously to try and get rid of the clump blocking the spout. The bottle refuses to cooperate and Harry turns it towards his face to get a better look at the problem, winking one eye shut to focus better on the cap. He gives it another testing squeeze and much to his luck, the jammed portion squirts loose and he ends up with syrup dripping down his face. 

Y/N doesn’t even attempt to stifle her amusement, nearly choking on a spoonful of yogurt as laughter takes over her entire body. The vampire stands rigidly beside her, glaring at the teddy bear-shaped container with so much hatred, she thinks it might melt. When the human finally manages to tame her giggles, she reaches up and uses her index finger to collect honey right off Harry’s cheek, sticking the digit into her mouth and sucking it off with a loud pop. 

Her friend gives her a deadpan scowl, to which she simply shrugs her brows playfully while gifting him a bright grin. “Now you know what it feels to have a sticky liquid shot into your eye. Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

“Fuck off.” 

“You look pretty, though. Does that make it better?”

“I will literally pour my yogurt onto your hair.”

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

Harry ends up having to shower in order to successfully get rid of the gooey substance, though it’s hardly a hassle given that Y/N gladly joins him. It doesn’t turn too sexual, surprisingly enough. 

The duo stand under the shower panel covered in suds, steam floating around their naked bodies as water pelts down on top of them, matting hair to their necks and jaws. Harry doesn’t know why, but he likes the fact that they’re now comfortable enough to be nude around each other outside of their usual dynamic. It’s fulfilling, for some odd reason. 

The girl helps the creature scrub off the honey with some facial cleanser, rubbing at his flushed cheeks with her thumbs and fighting off an endeared giggle when he scrunches his nose in annoyance. His voice comes out as a childish whine. “That hurts.”

“Stop being such a baby.” She huffs, going in along his cheekbones and rolling her eyes when he grumbles. “Lean down.” 

Harry abides, ducking down so she can get a better angle, casually coasting his hands onto her hips to keep her from losing her footing to the slippery floor. Y/N leans forward onto the tips of her toes, squinting at him through the foggy air as she continues to wash off the syrup, wanting to make sure she isn’t missing a single spot. Harry watches her quietly with his sopping curls sticking to his forehead and along the nape of his neck, lips twitching fondly at how hellbent she is on getting the mess off. Her brows are creased in concentration and her tongue is peeking out of her mouth; he has to restrain the impulse to surge forward and kiss her. 

Once Y/N is satisfied with her work, she falls back onto her heels, washing any remnants away under the stream and pushing her drenched strands out of her face. “All done. Try not to do it again.” 

“I make no promises.” Harry tuts as he joins her beneath the water, bare chest a mere inch from hers as he quirks his brows coyly. “It got you naked, so I’ll probably do it again.”

“I won’t help next time.” 

“Then I’ll just rub my face against yours and get it all over you. Won’t have much of a choice, then.” 

“You’re a literal child.”

Y/N grabs the bottle of chamomile shampoo from the shelf carved into the polished stone wall of the shower, uncapping it and pouring a glob into the palm of her hand. She sets the container back down and beckons Harry forward with the forefinger of her free hand. The vampire drifts towards her once again and wraps his arms across the dip of her back, lightly swaying her from side to side as she begins working the shampoo into his roots, the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp in slow circles. The groan that betrays him is pitiful. 

Y/N pretends not to hear it, continuing to work a lather into his curls as the boy trails his fingers up and down the center of her spine, the feathery sensation causing her to shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. Harry leans down to nestle his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, laying his head along her shoulder and cradling her to his body as she combs her fingers through his locks. He can’t remember the last time he took a shower with someone just for the sake of it, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in each other’s presence. It’s nice. 

Harry begins sponging his lips across the curve of Y/N’s throat, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing back into his grasp, the pads of her digits scratching at his scalp. 

“God, that feels so good.” Harry mumbles, tone so garbled in bliss, it’s barely understandable. 

The mortal slowly coaxes him back under the direct line of the shower, thoroughly rinsing the bubbles out of his hair and making sure to carefully wash any leftover shampoo out of his lashes. She then ties her arms around his broad shoulders, gently running her nails up and down the expanse of his muscular back, feeling the tendons unknot under her guidance. Y/N cranes her head to the side and flushes her lips to Harry’s temple, the pattering of the water camouflaging the fact that the area lacks a pulse. She sighs softly in innocent pleasure, the warm air sending a delightful bristling down the young man’s neck and drawing another drunken whimper from his lungs. This all feels therapeutic, almost. Neither had realized how much they missed domesticity until now. 

The human suddenly snorts humorously, talking against Harry’s waxy skin. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to make a move yet.” 

Harry rattles his head sleepily, the ridges of his mouth tickling her jugular as he does so. His voice is distant and tender, but his words send a pang of electricity to her core. “I’ll fuck you afterwards. Just wanna enjoy this right now.” 

Y/N lets her eyes lull shut, allowing the sheets of hot water to numb her mind the same way it had his, a certain type of mellowness soaking into her bones. Her tone comes out as soothed and detached as her lover’s, all her attention funneled into how incredible his hard body feels pressed to hers in such an intimate fashion, his strong arms clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m not complaining.”

Even in his distracted state, Harry still somehow manages to wriggle in a smug quip. “Of course you’re not. I give you nothing to complain about.”

“Dickhead.”

Y/N gives his ringlets a spiteful tug, which he responds to with an airy chuckle and a cheeky smack across her ass. The girl jumps slightly with a small gasp and a handful of select curses, which only causes him to cackle even further. “You love that shit, don’t you?”

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.” 

“Mm. S’what I thought.” 

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does. 

As soon as they exit the shower, he immediately wanders into the bedroom, the only towel in his possession being the one he’s using to shake out his damp curls. Y/N dries off her body patiently as she stands in front of the clouded mirror, rubbing the linen over her softened skin. She handles her hair second, patting and scrunching the water out as she thinks on what Harry could possibly be doing that is taking him so long. She doubts he’s getting dressed, if his earlier intentions are any indication, and he seemed like he had a plan in motion when he’d walked out, so there must be a method to his prolonged absence. 

When the monster pads back into the bathroom, he is just as bare as when he’d left, the towel he’d used on his locks crumpled in his large hands. He chucks it into the linen hamper beside the jacuzzi, sauntering up behind Y/N and she has to force herself not to use the mirror to ogle below his waist. She folds her towel neatly onto the counter, reaching forward and wiping the last bit of condensation off the glass so she can get a proper view of Harry’s face. Maybe it’ll help her deduce what he’s plotting. 

The boy presses up against her backside, pushing her forward until her hips are wedged between his torso and the edge of the bathroom counter, moving all her stringy hair onto one shoulder with the back of his hand. Harry locks eyes with her through the mirror, speckling a few sloppy kisses along the back of her neck and grinning into her flesh when a shiver coils down her spine. He looks so fucking good with his damp ringlets glued along his sharp jaw, his jade eyes glossy with lascivious intentions, and his cheeks and chest still colored from the hot water, tattoos looking as alluring as ever. He nuzzles the tip of his nose across the shell of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging teasingly, the warm air of his low, dominant tone causing her flinch in anticipation. 

“Arms behind your back.” 

Y/N obeys without a hitch, bringing her hands together atop the alcove at the bottom of her spine. She feels the unmistakable sensation of cold metal looping around her wrists, tightening with soft clicks and pinching at her skin. The cuffs sift into the designated setting and Harry gives them a quick yank to check for security, tying the excess chain link around his knuckles and pulling down harshly. Y/N’s body contorts to his influence, her arms straightening out as her back arches, chest swelling forward while her hips remain perched to the tabletop, held in place by his own. She can feel the head of his cock dab against the back of her thighs, his irises darkening as he surveys her bust with a type of barely-contained desire that sends heat flooding into her abdomen. 

Harry ducks his head further down to glue more kisses along the slope of her shoulder, nipping periodically and leaving behind a neat row of love bites that he’ll admire in detail later. The words he murmurs against her skin deliver a sweltering simmer in their wake. “Do you want it rough?” 

Y/N swallows thickly, nodding her head several times and whispering a bashful, “Yes.” 

“‘Yes’ what?”

The human licks at her lips tentatively, squeaking a tad when gives the metal hoops an expectant tug, urging a reply. “Yes, sir.” 

Harry’s lashes flutter shut for a second, the corners of his lips twitching in arrogant satisfaction. “You’ve got the filthiest tongue, but you know how to make it say the sweetest things, don’t you, baby?”

“Only for you.”  

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

The vampire’s eyes open slowly, head tilting to the side to assess her with sly amusement. “You wanna know how I can tell that’s the truth?” 

Y/N’s joints are starting to ache due to the position he’s fixed her in, but she doesn’t mind the burn. It feeds into the appeal. “H-How?”

Harry leans forward, brushing his wet lips up her jaw, the tip of his cock spreading her open just a smidge. “Because every time I fuck you, you’re always so bloody tight. Means I’m the only one stretching out that snug little cunt.”

A broken whine escapes Y/N’s sore throat— courtesy of what had occurred the night prior— and she squirms in the brunette’s grip, trying to shimmy her way further down his length. She’s anxious to feel him fill her. “Deeper.” 

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow in impressed curiosity. “You want it all in one go? Don’t want me to prep you first?” 

She shakes her head stubbornly, pushing back against him and succeeding in sinking an inch or so. Harry’s entire face hardens as she clenches around the head of his prick, attempting to ride down further to sedate her desperate need. He twists his fist tighter around the chain, his other hand coming up to grip her throat, forearm pressed between her breasts as he gets a decent hold to prepare for what’s to come.  

“If it gets to be too much,” Harry dabs a gentle kiss onto her cheek; it’s to communicate the importance of the message amidst the tense atmosphere, “you know to tell me, right?” 

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

Y/N nearly passes out. Even though she’s grown accustomed to Harry’s size and girth, it somehow never fails to shock her into a state of unexpected rapture. He just fits so well inside her— hits every nook and crevice like he was meant to touch every single one. That, combined with his unrelinquishing thrusts and sinful dirty talk...It’s enough to render anyone helpless. It’s certainly enough to have her shaking and screaming against his chest, and it’s definitely more than enough to drive her towards an orgasm that she knows will blow out her legs for at least the rest of the day. 

Harry fucks into her just how she’d requested— rough and vehement. He presses her bare back to his chest by using the hold he has around her throat, her head falling backwards onto his shoulder as he pounds into her belly from behind. His other hand is braided into the chain between the cuffs, controlling how her body seizes up and gives way. She’s standing on the tips of her toes, legs spread open as much as her weak knees will support, scraggly breaths stuttering from her nose and mouth as shattered noises of ecstasy decorate the space the fading steam has left behind. Her hips are ramming forward against the rim of the counter, the marble knocking against her pubic bone to the point where she knows bruises will develop later on. She doesn’t mind it; she loves seeing the memories Harry brands onto her, whether that be in the form of hickies across her thighs, fingerprints over her waist, or his rings fanned out across the swell of her ass. She’ll take anything he’s willing to give. 

The vampire is dismantling just as quickly as she is, obvious in the fractured growls and soft grunts he’s puffing against the side of her face. His pink-polished nails dig into her jugular, fingers twitching as her heartbeat hammers against his palm, sending vibration down his whole nervous system. His cock is slicking into her easily and it’s obvious the anticipation of what he had said during their bath had gotten to her; he can feel how wet she is with every stroke. It’s dripping down her quivering thighs and smearing all over his tiger head tattoo, damp slaps resonating from where her backside hits against his tinted pelvis. 

Harry stares down hazily at where he’s spreading her open, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as tiny mewls itch along the back of his raw throat, her own sounds playing across his ears with each buck of his thighs. They float through the heavy air like a lullaby and he can confidently say he’d listen to her moans forever, if time allowed. 

“I think it’s funny,” Harry starts with a comedic edge to his strained voice, mimicking the introduction Y/N had used the day before when they’d been in the jacuzzi, “that you’re always so willing to let me use you however I want. That you literally beg me to take you this hard. It’s almost pitiful, really, that you never had anyone fuck you right before I came along.”

The girl squirms in his arms, her hands flat against his abdomen, nails carving into his flesh. Her sentences come out cracked and almost pained. “I-I wish I’d met you sooner.” 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Harry grits against the shell of her ear, smirking when she worries her lower lip beneath her top teeth, trying to keep a tab on what he knows is probably an embarrassingly loud keen. “I bet you wish you’d had me back home, huh? Spent all your time fucking around with those vanilla small-town boys, never had a real man treat you the way you wanted. Bet you didn’t even like those pricks, did you, darling?”

Y/N shakes her head vigorously in response. “They were so boring. You’re so much better.” 

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

“Poor thing.” Harry scoffs sympathetically, running his grasp upwards until his thumb and forefinger rope around her jaw. He maneuvers her head into place, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, hissing his words lowly. “Eyes up. See how pretty you look taking every last bit of that cock? And the way your tummy’s bulging? That’s how you know the sex is good— that’s how it’s supposed to look.”

Y/N gazes upon the image her friend is referring, her exhales hiccuping in her chest at the way an obvious bump rises in her belly every time he thrusts inside. Not only that, but Harry just looks incredible, as well, with his heavily inked arm flushed between her breasts, the art flexing to life as he yanks her down against his lap by her neck. She can see the sweat beading his hairline, his freshly-washed ringlets jumping to his movements as he groans into her scalp. 

Y/N’s lips part in a silent moan and the immortal takes this chance to shove his first two fingers into her mouth, weighing them against her tongue and instructing her with a clear, deep accent. “Suck.”

She does so obediently, her cheeks hollowing as she gasps around the digits, swiveling to match his tempo. Between her glistening body, the needy expression painted across her appearance as she conforms to his every demand, and the way her walls are clinging to him like a vice as she eagerly licks and suckles at him…

Harry loses it. 

“Fucking hell.” The monster unclamps the hand he has around her jugular and Y/N drops back down onto her heels, ankles quaking now that she has to carry her own weight. His palm finds refuge along the back of her skull instead, proceeding to shove her head down towards the counter, pulling at the cuffs to finagle her into a folded position. “Bend over.”

Y/N does as told, a small, “mm!” plucking at her vocal chords as Harry pushes her cheek down against the cold marble situated between his two sinks. He pins her head to the surface and she casts her attention upwards to try and get a peek of him through the glass. His eyes look unnaturally dark, though she can’t quite place the shade given her limited view. 

The vampire makes sure the chain link is secured around his knuckles, proceeding to use the toy to bounce Y/N against his cock. He yanks her towards his torso until she thunks wetly against his base, using his hips to push her forward harshly and pulling out until his tip is barely grazing her entrance. He repeats this action over and over, weak whimpers spilling shamelessly from his plump ruby lips as he keeps her face fastened down, maintaining some form of consistent stability. Every fiber of his being sparks with bliss as he watches her jerk against the counter, back caving forward and causing her naked chest to bulge against the stone panel. One of these days, she’s going to drive him mental. He swears it. 

“There’s a good girl, minx.” Harry’s head tips backwards, bobbing back and forth as his sticky chest heaves with the exertion of keeping him tethered to reality. “Take it just like that, yeah? God, you should see the way you’re so snug around me. Love that cock, don’t you? Say it. Tell me you love it.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against the dip of her spine, nails digging into her palms. “I love your cock, Harry. I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking— oh!” He prods over her g-spot and she shudders below him. “Shit, keep going! Right there, right there, right there— oh my God!”

“Right here? Is that what’s gonna make my dirty little whore cum?” Harry grinds his teeth, ignoring the rouge curls falling into his furrowed brows, jabbing the spongy area with continuous plunges. “More? Look at how you’re shaking, baby. And you’re just so fucking wet. Absolutely soaked and... and fuck, that’s my sweet girl.” 

The boy keeps delivering every plea she chokes out, his climax beginning to froth at the trench of his stomach and along the underside of his balls. A familiar glow starts to pour into his dormant veins. “I’m almost there, dove. Gonna fill you up until it runs down your thighs.”

“Y-You’re so good, I can’t fucking— I’m gonna—”

“Beg for it. Beg for Daddy, princess.” 

Y/N does so with no remorse, confessing to him how much she wants his load, telling him that she needs to feel him spill inside her all warm and thick and heavy. A dark, open-mouthed smirk adorns Harry’s features as he fucks a throbbing ache between her thighs, feeling his mind completely slip. He may be damned with eternal life, but in this instant, the immortal feels like he touches heaven. 

Then, that moment of pure euphoria is stripped away by the sound of his front door clicking open. 

Harry’s eyes snap awake, all his motions coming to an abrupt halt. He shushes a protesting Y/N quietly, tuning his heightened hearing to make sure he hadn’t imagined the sound. 

But no, it’s very much real. It’s followed by the noise of the lock clanking back into its hole, and then three pairs of footsteps begin echoing down the hallway that leads to his living room. He recognizes every single one and unhinged rage suddenly flares around his pupils, potent and bright red. If Y/N wasn’t in such a compromisable position, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that slip-up. 

“Christ, you’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

Harry carefully withdraws himself from between the mortal’s legs, wincing a bit at the loss of suction and feeling a spoonful of guilt stem from the disappointed whine Y/N sobs. His swollen, leaking cock sways lightly as he takes a cautious step back, testing to see if he’s capable of moving without face-planting the ground. His mind is misty and he’s obviously drenched in the pungent scent of sex, but other than that, he reckons he can manage just fine. Especially with the newfound anger coursing through his nerves— a direct result of the unexpected trio of intruders chatting nonchalantly on the floor below. 

Harry stumbles towards the exit of the bathroom, knees wobbly and head spinning, an unsatisfied gnawing toiling in his groin. He needs to get that taken care of as soon as possible, but he can’t until he gets rid of the three morons milling around his foyer. He snatches his cherry blossom silk robe from the hook on the wall, wrapping it around himself tightly and making sure to cover all his assets to prevent any mishaps. 

He glances up at a pouting Y/N as he ties off the ribbon around his waist, walking back and helping her onto her unstable feet, cooing apologetically. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I heard some visitors come in downstairs ‘cause, apparently, they don’t understand the concept of privacy. This is the last time I’m trusting anyone with an extra key.”  

The girl leans back against one of the sinks, blinking up at him emptily as he thumbs over her chin in comfort. Her voice is hardly audible, raw with exhaustion. “How...How did you know they were here? I didn’t hear them come in...” 

Harry pauses for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly and pecking her on the nose to insert a distraction. He throws some humor into the mix as well, wanting to steer the conversation to safe grounds, opting for using a bit of compulsion to get the job done. His pupils dilate as his sentences swim around her head in a soothing voice, heavy with persuasion. “I heard the door slam shut. I guess you were a little too busy screaming my name to notice.” 

Y/N’s pupils expand to match his, her face going slack as the supernatural magic sews into her thoughts and molds her perspective to his story. Her lashes flutter in mild confusion, brows cinching as her brain recalibrates itself. The creases in her forehead dissolve as all of her doubt melts away, the corners of her plump lips quirking at his snarky remark. “I guess so.” 

“Can’t blame you, though.” Harry taps at her bottom lip cheekily, shrugging his brows. “I was giving it to you pretty good.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” Y/N rolls her foggy eyes, but she can’t hide the way her heartbeat spikes— not from him. Then, her face suddenly wracks with embarrassment, eyes shattering with humiliated realization. “Oh my God, that means they probably heard everything…”

Oh, they definitely heard everything, Harry thinks. They’ve got nothing better to do other than pry. 

He nurses her downcast face with his cold palm, one shoulder rising and falling casually to show it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry about it, hm? I’m gonna go kick them out, anyways, so you won’t have to deal with it.”

The pet name and his kind gesture eases her woes a bit, but not much. “Still. I’m never showing my face in public ever again.”

Now it’s the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes at her theatrics. “Just stay here, yeah? It’ll only take a second, and then…” Her friend gives her naked body a suggestive once-over, licking at the corner of his mouth. “Then we can finish what we started.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle, jokingly chastising him for his wandering gaze as she fiddles with her fingers within the handcuffs. “Just go.”  

The moment Harry’s bare feet step off the last rung of his staircase, he begins spewing venom at the three imbeciles standing around at the mouth of his entrance corridor. 

“Are you fucking dense?” He stomps up towards the group of young men with balled fists and bristling irises, all his spite trained on Mitch. “I told you I was busy! That suggests that you should’ve stayed away for the weekend! It meant, ‘leave me alone,’ not ‘come to my flat unannounced.’”

“Yeah, we know you’re busy.” Niall boasts with a loud scoff, shaking his head as an afterthought. “I think the whole building knows, at this point.”

The Irish bloke grabs Xander, who catches onto what the man is doing and happily takes a part in the action. He bends over while Niall grasps onto his shoulders and begins to mimic thrusting, arching his back forward and shaking his ass. He sucks one of his fingers into his mouth, moaning profusely to add authenticity to their vulgar reenactment. “Oh, Harry! Right there, don’t stop!”

Niall drops his voice a few octaves for symbolism, putting on a shitty British accent as he bucks against Xander’s backside. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Like it right there? Tell me how much you love that cock.” 

Harry’s jaw clenches as he tries to ignore them, refusing to give rise to their taunting. The two boys break into a puddle of giggles at his expense, nudging each other triumphantly and eventually dying down. Harry isn’t normally the type of person to daydream about violence— why would anyone partake in something so barbaric when dismantling an enemy psychologically is so much better?— but he finds himself fantasizing about tearing Niall and Xander’s hands off and using them as ping-pong paddles. 

Mitch shifts his body towards his best friend, arms crossed loosely with an expression of sheer amusement painted across his bearded face, seeming undisturbed by Harry’s rampage and deadly grimace. “It’s nice to see you, too, H.” 

The younger vampire takes a measured inhale, swallowing down the urge to rip the older man’s mustache clean off. He directs his next sentence at all of them, glaring intently as his voice comes out flat and harsh. “Get out.”

Niall raises his palms in peaceful surrender, proceeding to use an index finger to signal hastily between his impromptu porno co-star and himself. “Don’t look at us, this was Mitch's idea. We just came along.” 

“None of you should have come at all.” Harry spits, tightening his lean arms over his chest, biceps rippling under the thin silk of his elegant robe. “What do you want?” 

A soft giggle suddenly bursts from Xander and he momentarily slaps his hand over his mouth to muddle it, but his eyes continue to dance with mirth. “Sorry, I just can’t take you seriously in that.” He juts his chin towards Harry’s pajamas. “I think my grandmother had one just like it.” 

“Yeah, I stole this from her place right after I pissed on her grave.” The brunette snaps with an exaggerated smile, feeling a flare of evil satisfaction at the way Xander’s grin immediately plops. Niall snorts loudly and tries to cover it up, but it fails and he is left having to brace the brunt of the other boy’s contempt. 

Harry turns back to face Mitch while the other two immortals bicker, now aware that he is the mastermind behind this entire coup. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you have left for Vegas already?”

“Yeah, we should have.” He answers pointedly with a soft, dejected sigh. Harry has to keep himself from casting his gaze away in guilt. 

The annual trip had been a tradition he and Mitch had started in the nineties, just them two. As their group had expanded, so had the attendant list, and now it was something special their whole clique did together to put some extra excitement— something stable to look forward to— into the endless years they had ahead. No one had missed out on the trip in the last thirty years, especially not willingly, and no one ever thought Harry— the co-founder of the event— would be the one to break that streak. He can tell Mitch is upset. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles, squeezing at the inside of his elbows and putting as much genuine emotion into his demeanor as possible. “It just slipped my mind and I made another commitment that I can’t bail on. But it won’t happen again, I promise. Betsy swear.” 

Mitch’s downturned lips jolt slightly at the mention of his old bayonet. He had kept the weapon after the American Revolution had ended, as a tribute to the old life he was leaving behind after he transitioned, naming it fondly after his mother. With all of that history taken into appeal, it’s no wonder the item means a lot to him. That is exactly why the two best friends had developed a dynamic around it. 

They would tie an oath to the object in order to ensure it would be kept, and if the promise was broken, the other would get to stab the traitor with it. The game had been something Mitch and Harry had conjured up decades ago while under the influence of some very strong psychedelics, but it had stuck, for some reason. It’s simply a playful inside joke, and though it’s a tad gruesome, it’s hardly an issue considering they both self-heal quickly. Any damage inflicted is equivalent to that of a rubber band snapping against their skin, so in the end, no harm, no foul. At its core, it’s just a vampire’s version of a pinky swear, hence the term, “Betsy swear.” Harry had thought about getting it patented, at one point. 

The jade-eyed boy feels a weight lift off his shoulders as Mitch indulges one of his signature quiet chuckles. “Alright, fine. Betsy swear, then. The reason we’re here is ‘cause I wanted to check up on you before we left, and ‘cause I wanted to make sure you switched the reservation. You never got back to me about it.” 

“Oh, my bad. I got it done, though. Everything should check out.” Harry reassures, waving away his visitor’s doubt. He’d tended to the job last night after Y/N fell asleep and he meant to send a confirmation text, but forgot when the mortal had begun to stir randomly. He’d had to put away his phone and pretend to be unconscious for a few minutes until her agitation melted away, resulting in the deed going undone, courtesy of the mild panic that had dulled his memory. “Why didn’t you just text me about it?” 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, pursing his lips to fight off an entertained grin. “Oh, I did. Multiple times, actually. But I reckon you were too busy with the treadmill to notice.” 

The older creature’s reference works as intended, an irritating flush crawling up Harry’s neck and pouring into his ears, garnering a fit of cackles on his companion’s behalf.

“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles as he shoves Mitch’s shoulder, but the insult is hard to take seriously when he’s wrestling a smirk of his own. 

“Is it the girl from the club?” The lanky man inquires curiously, tilting his head to the side with an impressed air. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? That’s a record, I think. You’ve never kept one around that long.” 

“What can I say, the sex is good.” Harry shrugs easily, tucking a couple of rebellious curls away from his eyes, which gleam crimson red as a supporting factor to his next comment. “And the blood is even better.”

Mitch rolls his irises playfully. “Alright, Casanova, pipe down.” He glances over his friend’s rumpled appearance, taking in the slightly damp skin, wild hair, and the plethora of faded hickies peeking through the boy’s robe, littering his chest and collarbones. “She’s got you on a tight leash, I see.” 

“It’s only fair, considering she spends most of that time in my handcuffs. Quid pro quo and all that.” Harry quips back, bursting into laughter when Mitch gags dramatically. 

“You know you could’ve just brought her along, right?” Mitch suggests, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We each have our own rooms, remember? No one would get in the way of your little late night jogs. Though I can’t say the same for the other hotel guests. She’s not necessarily subtle.” 

Harry presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek coyly. “It’s not my fault I’m good in bed. It’s a curse, really. Could never get away with dressing room sex.”

He contemplates Mitch's offer for a second. He thinks it could be a fun time, but then he recalls that the trip to Vegas is a week-long party, which Y/N can’t indulge because she works a regular nine-to-five. Plus, a human in a car full of vampires sounds like the introduction to an ominous joke. Something is bound to slip, especially because no one in the crew is used to having humans around outside of meal hours. He doesn’t want the responsibility of constantly having to wipe her brain. 

Aside from that, most of the vampires that mill around Vegas aren’t as cultured as Harry’s friends. They lack restraint, a conscience, and fear of consequences, given that the city’s crazy reputation provides the perfect cover for all those dangerous behaviors. That makes them deadly predators to someone as trusting and unsuspecting as Y/N, and having to continuously protect her would be too much of a hassle. It’s supposed to be a vacation; the last thing he needs is for it to turn into an episode of Shark Week. It’s best to stay put.

Harry shakes his head after a minute, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m good. Bringing along a human isn’t worth all the trouble she might cause. Thank you, though.” 

Mitch bobs his head in understanding, well aware of the problems Harry is alluding to. “You have a point.” He pauses for a second in thought, shaking his head at the idea of having to deal with the insanity that surrounds their Vegas siblings. “I guess I’ll just see you next week, then, yeah? Better get going.”

The younger vampire mirrors his nod, opening his arms for a hug, which Mitch gladly takes. He’s not one for affection, that much is clear, but he makes certain exceptions here and there, and of course his friends file under that category. And every now and then, Y/N does too. 

“See you next week.” He pulls away from the embrace with a hard pat to Mitch’s shoulder, smiling softly. “Send tons of pictures, okay? And videos of Niall getting shitfaced. I need new blackmail content.” 

“Will do.” Mitch squeezes his best friend’s shoulders tightly, beaming at him in return. He then cranes towards his two fellow guests, whistling to gain their attention from the passionate conversation they seem to be having about Harry’s robe. “Time to head out, Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Who’s who?” Niall questions childishly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I think I should be Clyde. Xander has Bonnie vibes.” 

“No I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do.” The Irish boy reasons, cocking his head knowingly. “You seem like the type who would cheat on a murderer with another criminal from the same jail. You’ve got a knack for drama, like most women.” 

Xander crosses his arms stubbornly. “No, I don’t.”

“You do, actually.” Harry butts in, eyes twinkling slyly as the group starts to wander towards the exit. He decides to get revenge for the teasing from earlier. “You moan just like one, too.”

Xander blushes bright red, diving into the shadow of the corridor to avoid any more ridicule. “I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” 

The other vampires laugh as they follow behind Harry’s ex-fling, waving their final goodbyes. As soon as the front door echoes shut, the immortal turns on his heel and heads back towards the glass stairs, beginning to undo the silk ribbon knotted around his hips. 

He’s got his own partner in crime to attend to. 

///

That night, Y/N and Harry end up bidding each other farewell in the corridor of his condo. 

That seems to be a common theme in their relationship, he’s come to find. It’s usually the entrance to her own apartment instead of his, but the motif is there, nonetheless: They always end up meeting in a hallway, every single time. 

“Thanks for having me over.” Y/N murmurs in her signature gentle dialect, smiling delicately as she skids the toe of her sneaker against the ground of the carpet outside his door, trying to keep the butterflies in her tummy tame. It was an incredible two days— maybe the best weekend she’s ever had, if she’s being honest. “I had a lot of fun.” 

Harry leans his bare shoulder against his threshold, clad in nothing but a pair of royal blue boxers and black ankle socks, freely showing off the collection of love bites and scratches Y/N had so kindly finished gifting him a few hours ago. She’d gone wild the second he’d unlocked the metal cuffs and he’s more than happy with the results.

The stains speckle his broad chest and the expanse of his taut neck, dark and obvious beneath the complex’s buttery lighting. Bruises trace down his stomach and across his ribs, a neat row of four hickies centered vertically between his two fern inkings. They disappear suggestively under the elastic band of his underwear and she can feel flashes of heat layer across her cheeks, her mind recalling all the filthy sounds he’d made when she had created them.

The human peels away from the artwork that is Harry’s marked torso, glancing around nervously at the fact that some stranger might see the fruit of their actions. The vampire’s lips twitch at her concern; it baffles him how she can be such a devil in between the sheets, but such a shy, reserved angel in every other aspect. It’s cute. 

Harry reaches forward and takes her warm fingers into his larger hand, thumbing over her knuckles appreciatively as his irises glitter smugly amidst his lashes, a smirk stringing his pillowy mouth. “We always have a lot of fun.” 

Y/N squeezes his palm playfully, gnawing into her cheek and humming in agreement. “That, we do.”

A moment of comfortable silence suspends the air between them, the only sound being the faint footsteps of people on the levels above and below, alongside the light skidding of the elevator as it delivers patrons to their destinations. Harry is the first to speak up again. 

“What was your favorite part?” 

Y/N blinks up at him blankly, slightly startled at the random question, but moreso at being put on the spot. 

“Oh, uh…” She laughs shakily, struggling to recall everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There had been so much bare skin and desperate tongues involved, she can hardly pick through her memories without her ears prickling. “I think...I think the shower was my favorite. It was nice and relaxing. Helped me unwind.” 

Harry nods in recognition, turning through the pages in his mind and skimming through the instance she’s referring. “It was pretty nice, yeah. You look good in a soap beard.” 

Y/N scoffs at his joking compliment. “Thanks. I’ll grow it out more often. Just for you.” 

The young man reaches up and grips over his chest in fake passion, face contorted into a wistful expression. “That’s all I ask.” 

The pair break into childish giggles and the sensation of Harry rubbing across the top of her hand is starting to make her head fuzzy. “What about yours? What was your favorite?”

Harry mulls over his own topic for a few seconds, lips puckering in thought as his eyes narrow pensively. The comically adorable picture makes Y/N’s heart skip. 

“I think…” Harry lists his gaze downwards back onto his patiently-awaiting friend, lips spreading into his patented dazzling smile. “I think it was probably the Hamilton reenactment.” 

Y/N brows jump, mood slightly unconvinced. “Really?” 

The vampire nods confidently, his own eyebrows inching upwards, voice amused. “Why is that so hard to believe?”   

Y/N shrugs offhandedly, glimpsing down at where the ridges of his thumb are delivering soothing shots of bliss into her veins. “You’re just so...y’know...you… so I guess I just expected you’d have a preference for the more…” She chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to be so brazen with the risk of someone overhearing, “...intimate parts of the weekend.”

“Wow, okay. Just call me a whore to my face, then. That’s fine.” 

Y/N throws her free hand upwards in a fist, slugging Harry on the shoulder with appalled shock overtaking her features. His boyish chuckles echo off the walls of the building as she whips her head around to make sure no one had witnessed his dirty bluntness. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah.” He purposefully raises his voice, nearly shouting the following sentence just to get on her nerves. “You’re slut-shaming me!” 

Y/N surges forward, trying to clamp her hand over his mouth and save herself the embarrassment. “Harry, shut up!”

He easily fights her off, his supernatural strength beating hers tenfold. She ends up wrapped in his embrace, flushed against his hard chest as he sticks his tongue out at her mockingly. He drops his tone back down to normal, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip to keep more laughter from bubbling over. “That’s not nice. You should stop conforming to society’s outdated ‘sex is taboo’ narrative.”

“I wasn’t—” Y/N starts insistently, but then she realizes she’s become almost as loud as him so she forces her voice to taper into an alarmed hiss instead. “I wasn’t slut-shaming you! I was simply expressing—”

“You just see me as a toy, don’t you?” The creature cuts her off, lips dipping downwards into a glorified frown. He proceeds to bat his lashes and sniffle, packing as many theatrics as possible into his mopey act. “I have feelings, y’know? My big dick and cunnilingus skills aren’t my only redeeming qualities! You should be ashamed of yourself for objectifying me like that.”

Y/N presses her lips together to ward off an immature grin, rattling her head to get herself under control. She gives him a stern look, warning him to cut it out. “Stop being a child.” 

“Stop using me for sex and making derogatory assumptions about my promiscuity.”  

“Oh, hop of it! You use me right back. It’s mutual.”

“Which is why the slut-shaming is such a paradox.” 

“For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t fucking— You know what? You can’t even pin me on the objectification part because you do it to me all the time!” 

“Oh, is that so?” Harry prods with a humorous tilt of his head, squeezing at her love handles and swimming in the way she wriggles around. “Elaborate.” 

“When you slapped my ass in the shower. Or when you put your hand under my shirt to play with my chest while we watch TV.” Y/N debates, poking at the thorax of his butterfly tattoo. “Very objectifying, if you ask me.”

“Mm, not quite, darling.” The vampire shakes his head and draws her closer, ducking down to flirt the tip of his nose along the slope of hers. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh, yeah?” She digs her nails into his pectorals, discreetly savoring the strong muscles. “What is it?”

Harry glimpses down at where she’s carving indents into his flesh, enjoying the minute pain more than he should. He drifts his mouth closer towards her ear, inhaling the scent of his shampoo wafting from her silky strands of hair. “The difference is that you’re usually begging me to do all those things.”

Y/N’s teeth grind in begrudging defeat, her spine giving a surrendered shiver at his crude point. “Whatever.” 

Harry releases her body, haughty victory written all over his posture. “I rest my case.” 

Y/N’s pride blazes, a threat falling from her tongue sharply, but it holds no true intentions. “Maybe I should just stop asking you to, then.”

“You won��t.” The boy sighs airily, tapping his bare foot against the ground without a care in the world. “You like me too much.” 

“Even if I like you, I’d have enough dignity to stop seeing you if I wanted.” Y/N huffs, making a face at him to emphasize her stance. “It’s this little thing called ‘willpower.’”

“Yeah, well, we both know you and your willpower are gonna end up texting my number Friday night, asking me to come over for some more interior design advice.” Harry snarkily dismisses, presenting a scenario where he’s holding an invisible phone in his hands, pretending to tap out a message. His voice comes out high-pitched, mimicking her own. “Hey, one of the rungs on my headboard came loose. Can you come help me fix it?”

Y/N stares at him with eyes half-lidded in pettiness. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re right. You’re a tad more nasally.” 

“Asshole.” 

“I’m just calling it like I see it, love.”

Y/N socks him on the shoulder again as retribution, though it barely has an impact. 

After a couple heartbeats full of vengeful silence, Y/N chimes up with a jesting tone, though the manner in which she’s picking at her nails tells Harry she’s slightly anxious. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to send out a text inviting you to come over Friday...would you?”

A lopsided simper pops the immortal’s dimples awake. He shifts on his feet, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I could very well make it.” 

Y/N chews on her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks jolt. “Ok, well...Let’s say— once again, hypothetically— that I should be home by eight that day. Would that work for you?” 

Harry cocks his head from side to side as if churning the offer around his mind. “I think that, hypothetically, that fits right into my schedule.”

The human’s belly flops in giddy excitement. “Great. It’s booked, then. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

“Of course.” Harry agrees, the reply accompanied by a teasing furrow of his sculpted brows and a curt nod. 

Y/N clasps her hands in front of her thighs with finality, giving him a bright smile. “Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.” Harry confirms with a cheeky wink, running his tongue along his top teeth to keep from bursting into giggles. “Hypothetically.” 

“Hypothetically.” Y/N states with a slight bow of her head, tucking one hand into the back pocket of her dark jeans as she takes a step back from the front door with a small wave. She turns on her heel to face the elevator at the other end of the hall, her foot lifting to take the first step towards the exit. 

“Wait.” 

The mortal looks back towards her friend, eyebrows poised in question. 

Harry scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling softly. “I could really go for a goodbye kiss. Not-so-hypothetically.” 

Y/N blinks at him in wonder. He’s never asked for one before. 

The awkward aura that quickly fills the space between them becomes suffocating. He considers the option of telling her he was just joking to spare himself the humiliation, but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N lurches forward, teetering onto the tips of her toes and buttoning her lips to his. The spontaneous action makes him swallow his words. 

He fumbles to cup her jaw, kissing her back with just as much fervor and feeling the coldness of his skin fizzle away under her inherent warmth. The gesture isn’t sexual or desperate, but simply sweet and fulfilling. He enjoys it, though it’s not surprising given that he enjoys her lips touching him in any and every way imaginable. He’s not exactly sure why he’d made this particular request— it’s very out of character for him, in every sense of the phrase— but he deduces it’s likely because he wants one more thing to cling onto until he gets to feel her mouth again. It’s not uncommon to want a little something extra to get through the tougher nights, so it’s truly not that big of an occurrence. It’s only reasonable.  

Y/N breaks their exchange, eyes glassy and so beautifully clear as she pecks his chin one last time in a polite farewell. “Text me if you need me...And especially if you need me.”

Harry gulps thickly at the suggestive statement, nodding numbly as her body heat slips away. “Will do. Thanks. And thanks for the kiss. Needed it to tide me over until Friday.” 

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.” 

Harry waits patiently until Y/N’s figure disappears behind the gilded doors of the fancy elevator, watching the closed slates of metal glint coldly under the blurry lighting of the condominium’s corridor. He walks back into his apartment, shutting the door gently and slouching into the plush cushions of his leather sofa with a detached sigh. He gazes up at his extravagant chandeliers, once again left in the empty solitude he’d grown so fond of in his extensive lifetime. There’s not a single sound or motion invading his seclusion, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his rug, and everything is so still and quiet, it’s almost deafening. But despite every aspect being as it should, he can’t shake the sensation that something is off. Something is wrong. Something’s missing.

And for the first time in years, he finds himself feeling more lonely than alone. 

///

It only takes Harry about an hour of uneventful isolation to realize he’s made a grave mistake. 

He should have gone on the trip. 

Despite the fact that the vampire lives alone, he very rarely spends any time without seeing his friends. Since they all reside in the same building, it’s fairly easy for him to find some entertainment whenever boredom strikes. He’ll either go up a floor to Mitch’s place to watch a movie or mess around with his collection of vintage guitars, or he’ll go a level below to visit Adam and talk about any new art exhibits opening up around the area. He could visit Niall three floors above to play some FIFA on his gaming console and share porn recommendations, or even take the elevator to the twelfth floor to bother Xander and talk some shit while they do each other’s nails. And if Harry’s feeling extra needy for attention, he could always just invite them all over to his place so the group could go out for some Thai food at the restaurant down the street, or go see a movie at the cinema, or take a ride to their favorite local bar. 

No matter the circumstances, his friends are always readily available for him when he needs them, so he very solemnly spends his days alone. That is, until now. 

The entire crew had left for the Vegas trip and— as a result of his own irresponsibility and immature hormones— had left him all by himself for the next seven days. He would never admit it aloud to spare himself the ridicule of being overly sappy, but he misses the group. He misses Mitch’s soft voice and quiet wittiness, and he misses Adam’s cheeky banter and random fun facts, and he misses Niall’s inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter, and he even misses Xander’s annoying digs and childish pettiness. He didn’t know how much he took it all for granted until it was gone.

For the rest of the week, Harry is practically miserable. The guys don’t text him much, which can be expected since the whole point of the holiday is to enjoy every second of it; there would be no point in traveling four hours just to sit in their hotel and message him. He talks to Y/N a bit, but she is also occupied most of the time with work, given that she had to take on a few extra shifts on behalf of her co-workers. The earliest she goes in is six A.M., the latest she comes out is nine P.M., and by then, Harry reckons she’s probably falling asleep in the entrance corridor of her home. He understands her exhaustion and therefore doesn’t expect her to humor him; it wouldn’t be fair. 

With everyone in his life busy and with his flat feeling colder and emptier than ever, it’s a miracle he doesn’t go mad within its walls. He goes out a handful of times to do some grocery shopping, for a run around a nearby park, and to take a walk along his favorite mall, but that’s it, really. He doesn’t go out to eat simply because he thinks it would be embarrassing having to sit alone at a restaurant; it’s pitiful and sad and he’s not going to subject himself to that. The most stimulating social interaction he has that week is a tie between a bit of flirting with a Target cashier, some suggestive gazing exchanged with a Starbucks barista, and a couple of cheeky caresses from a Gucci store employee taken while measuring his waist for a custom order. None of it satisfies him the way it normally does, though, and he can’t place why. 

By the time Friday evening rolls around, Harry is a hair short from letting his regular case of stir-crazy slip into a full-on psychotic break. That’s why he ends up at Y/N’s complex earlier than the agreed-upon hour, stepping out of his Cadillac with twenty minutes left to spare and with a certain desperation eating away at the back of his skull.

The creature casually jogs up the worn steps to her floor, the only sound being the heels of his maroon velvet boots clicking against the cement ground. He whistles softly to the vague tune of a new pop song that had been playing on the radio— Wet Ass something?— as he tucks his phone into his pocket and brushes a few traces of lint off his freshly-ironed button-up. 

His outfit for tonight is nothing too spectacular, but it isn’t too lazy, either. It’s a long-sleeve black silk shirt with glass buttons and a pair of large swallows embroidered along either sides of his chest, the threads dyed royal and pastel blue, cherry red, and creamy yellow. The top is cuffed up his elbows and unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, showing off his naturally tanned skin and matching swallow inkings, the cross on his delicate chain centered between his pecs and twinkling under the flickering lights. He’d coupled the loose blouse with some black skinny jeans, a dark leather belt, a small golden hoop earring, and his trusty collection of rings and necklaces. In his opinion, it’s a proper look for a planned-out booty call. Formal, but easy to rip off. Especially in a blind hurry. 

Harry figures that he’ll check to see if Y/N is home, just to cover the bases. If she isn’t, he’ll tred back down the stairs and wait for her in his car. If she is, then that’s all the better; there’s no damage in starting a bit earlier than scheduled. It makes for a better recoup period between rounds. 

The immortal turns the corner into the familiar hallway where Y/N’s flat is located, one of his hands already forming into a loose fist with the intention of knocking on her door. He makes it about five paces before he’s slapped with an image that causes him to stop cold in his tracks, his whistling coming to an abrupt halt. 

Harry blinks repeatedly and lowers the frame of his pink Gucci sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, wanting to make sure the scene before him isn’t a figment of his imagination. Much to his displeasure, it isn’t. 

About three meters ahead, situated right in front of her door with her back facing towards him, is Y/N. That isn’t the odd aspect of the picture, though. What’s odd is that her usual grimy work attire is missing, which he had expected to see given that he knows she always goes to the cafe on Fridays. Instead, she is clad in the pastel blue floral sundress she had worn for him all those weeks back, when they had slept together for the second time. And instead of wearing her scuffed up Vans, she is wearing a pair of pretty tan sandals. And instead of having her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, it’s down and fanned around her shoulders in a glossy sheen of tousled curls. And she’s wearing perfume— the same one she had worn the night they met. He can smell it from here and it makes his brows furrow in confusion. She never wears perfume to work; she says it’s forbidden since it can make customers nauseous. 

But aside from all of those unorthodox details, there is one specific factor above all that throws Harry for the biggest loop he’s encountered in the last five weeks of knowing her. 

Y/N isn’t alone. She’s accompanied by another man. 

Harry gives the stranger a calculating once-over, taking in every aspect of the boy’s appearance. He has to keep himself from sputtering into laughter. This has to be some type of fucking joke. 

The bloke is fit, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s handsome and somewhat muscular, but in a manner that is painfully cliche and utterly boring. He has sandy blonde hair that falls across his forehead in a shaggy sideways bang, eyes the color of a Malibu beach, and generally soft features with the exception of decent cheekbones. He’s wearing a dull orange polo, khaki pants, Levi sneakers, and an annoyingly giant watch on his wrist that gives the impression he’s trying to show off. Harry nearly vomits in his mouth. 

Who the fuck would wear a polo willingly? And how brain dead does he have to be to think khakis are still in style? His fashion sense is obviously stunted. It appears his brain is stuck in his middle school phase, when the Justin Bieber haircut and douchey brands were all the rave amongst snotty pre-teens. Also, his watch is an embarrassment. Harry doesn’t know what the guy is attempting— and failing— to show off, considering the accessory is chunky and ugly and not even Versace or Rolex. It’s a disgrace. 

As if the forced posh demeanor isn’t enough, the imbecile actually has the guts to have a fake tan. The vampire isn’t surprised, unfortunately, given that eighty percent of all Los Angeles residents think it’s acceptable to dip-dye themselves into a carrot. He faintly wonders if the man’s balls are colored, as well, or if his ass and sack are as pale as his personality probably is. That would be quite the comedic sight either way. Creamsicles for the win, he supposes. 

Harry may not be alarmed by the blonde boy’s get-up, but he is disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. Horrifically disgusted. What is Y/N doing with this moron? 

According to what he’s gathered from her personality and the pillow talks they often share, she hates the California stereotype almost as much as he does, if not more. She hates the fake tans and bleached hair and lack of conscience. She hates the outdated teenage brands, cringey jewelry, and fraternity member aesthetic. She especially hates the fact that some of these people don’t understand the basic principles of boundaries. And the thing is, this dude-bro of a man definitely ticks all of those boxes— especially with how close he’s standing next to her, looming above her frame with one arm extended against the surface of her door, trying to look nonchalant and cool as he drawls on about whatever topic they’re discussing. 

He’s practically the poster child for everything the girl despises, from the straightened hair to the alter boy church pants to the stupid forest tattoo on his forearm. So what in the flying fuck is she doing entertaining him? What is she doing standing outside her apartment with this trashy, bacon strip-looking, youth leader knock-off, 2012 Bieber impersonator of a human? 

It has to be a joke. It just has to. There’s no other valid explanation, except maybe a plea of insanity. 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s scowling until the stranger makes eye contact with him. The boy’s face breaks into an expression of unsettled discomfort at the way the vampire is peering at him over his sunglasses, allowing his end of the conversation to falter to dust. Y/N’s brows cinch at the occurrence, her attention peeling away to follow where her date’s had wandered. 

The second her gaze locks with Harry’s intense own, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. Fuck.

Let it be known Y/N didn’t want this. She didn’t want to go on a date with Jacob. In fact, she didn’t know who Jacob was until halfway through this week and she honestly wishes it had stayed that way. She wishes she hadn’t picked up Melissa’s shift with Isabel, she wishes she hadn’t offered to wait that extra table in the back out of the kindness in her heart, and she wishes she hadn’t caught the attention of the customer inhabiting it. 

As it turns out, the young man was Isabel’s cousin. He had come to pick her up since the girl’s car had been stuck at the shop for the last few days, and he had arrived a bit earlier than intended, deciding to sit at the back table to wait out the final ten minutes of his relative’s shift. Y/N had simply assumed that he was a regular customer, so she had gone to give him the usual trained introduction in order to follow the golden rule of customer service: Don’t keep a guest waiting. 

Jacob had explained the situation to Y/N, to which she responded with a light laugh and an instinctive apology. She had told him she’d go fetch Isabel for him and bid the boy goodbye. In her rational opinion, she had thought that would be it— a simple crossing of two paths that would likely never cross again— but evidently, the visitor had a very different idea. 

The human’s shift had continued as planned and everything had been going great until Isabel ducked into the kitchen right before leaving, dancing her way across the room and poking her coworker playfully in the tummy.  Apparently, from what Isabel had giddily told her, Jacob had taken an interest in Y/N. It was a bit ridiculous, if you asked her, considering they’d only talked for a total of about thirty seconds before parting routes. But Y/N hadn’t voiced that opinion; she didn’t want to come off as rude. 

Jacob had asked his cousin to set them up on a date and that is why Isabel had gone into the back before leaving. Y/N’s immediate impulse had been to decline. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at the moment. Other than Harry, of course. He handled all her needs just fine and they got on so well, she’d be crazy to replace him with some random guy she barely knew. She had gone to express this to Isabel in a gentler manner with an apologetic tone, but the words had ended up lodging in her throat. The girl had stared at Y/N with so much excitement, she’d immediately felt a wave of guilt erupt into her chest. 

She found it difficult to refuse, given that turning down the offer might come off as bitchy and insensitive. Here Isabel was, trying to innocently play match-maker on behalf of someone she cared about, buzzing with glee and smiling at her so big, her cheeks probably hurt. The last thing Y/N wanted was to upset her by basically telling her that Jacob wasn’t up to par with her standards. Rejecting him could be something her acquaintance took personally and Y/N didn’t want to have to deal with drama in the workplace, especially not with someone whose shifts often mirror her own. 

Y/N had reluctantly agreed to the invitation, her only request being that she had to be home by seven thirty. That would give her enough time to prepare for Harry’s visit. 

Her compliance had landed her where she is now, standing in front of her apartment door with a boy she has no interest in. 

It had been a terrible date, though Jacob took no notice of that. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself, going on and on about his college years, and about how he works at a popular surf shop and could probably get her discounted lessons, and about how he doesn’t think he could survive without his Jeep. How he plays guitar and wants to be a famous actor, how he doesn’t understand why people dislike fake tanning, and how his dad owns a country club in South Carolina. How he loves sports, how he thinks museums are dumb, and how he likes girls who are willing to cook for him after they hookup. How he loves going clubbing and that he misses his ex. 

Y/N had nearly groaned out loud at the last two.

It was cruel and unusual torture, in all honestly, and Y/N is just glad it’s over. She’d fulfilled her role— she’d even been nice enough to dress up, to at least finge interest— and could now go free, never having to hear another word about surfboard wax or college football ever again. If only he’d fucking leave.

Jacob had insisted on walking her to the door, which would be sweet if she hadn’t developed a burning hatred for him in the last hour. It came off as annoying and pushy instead, but she allowed it on the grounds of maintaining a polite front. 

She shouldn’t have allowed it. As soon as they’d gotten to her door, he’d started talking all over again and Y/N had no choice but to stand there and listen. She couldn’t go anywhere, given that this is her place and she’s expecting someone. She figured she’d give him until seven fifty and then make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom in order to get him to piss off. That plan had crumbled when Harry had shown up twenty minutes early. 

The look of inflamed shock that poses Harry’s handsome features makes her stomach curdle. 

She hadn’t meant for him to see this. She’d only gone on the date to spare herself some petty trouble with a coworker. Nothing was bound to come of it, other than a free meal and a guilt-free conscience. It didn’t mean anything and she had no intention of letting it get in between what she and Harry have going. But from an outside perspective, she knows it looks much different. 

The agreement they have isn’t exclusive by any means, but over the last five weeks, the pair have grown pretty comfortable with one another and had given connotations that they weren’t kindling other possible relationships. There’s a type of silent agreement between them that if they were to seek out other people, they would share that information with each other on the grounds of courtesy, friendship, and respect. But Y/N hadn’t said a word to spare him the baseless stress and now he’d run into her smack in the middle of what appears to be a very compromising situation; things aren’t looking good at all. It looks like she’s losing interest in Harry and couldn’t be bothered to tell him. It looks like she’s out for a replacement. It looks like she doesn’t care about their connection at all. 

This is bad. This is really bad.

Y/N’s voice comes out as a shrill shriek of surprise, her body turning abruptly to fully face his rigid own. “Harry! Uh— hi!” 

Harry blinks at her emptily for a moment and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. She can’t read his mind or his expression, but she reckons he’s probably trying to decide if he should follow through on their rendezvous or if he should just leave and never talk to her again. The idea of him choosing the latter makes her mouth go sour. 

The vampire’s emerald irises flit back and forth between his friend and the unknown man behind her, trying to interpret the tone and texture of the circumstance. She’s obviously on a date, if her appearance is any indication, and it’s obviously coming to a close right now, exactly when he’s scheduled to arrive. 

That’s the determining factor that helps him decide his next move. 

Y/N had invited Harry over last Sunday, meaning that she had made their commitment first. This date had to have come into play later in the week, and she had purposefully planned it around their agreed hour in order to give him her undivided attention when the time came. If she had gone out with this guy and then rushed back home to get to him, that must mean she doesn’t plan on indulging another meeting with the stranger. She hadn’t cancelled his visit, either, so that also suggests she isn’t truly interested in this bloke. That makes sense...right?

But that still begs the question: Why had she gone out with him in the first place?

He knows he isn’t owed an explanation, but he also knows that Y/N isn’t the type of person who would just blindside him like this. She isn’t soulless— she’s sweet and caring and generous, so she would never drop him without any warning or consideration for his feelings. She’d never abandon him without telling him why. She’d never do anything that might run a chance of hurting him. 

The immortal is more than aware he doesn’t have the right to be upset about it, either. Their arrangement is loose and open on both ends and he likes it that way. He likes that their relationship isn’t weighed down by commitment and monogamy; it gives him a sense of freedom and independence he’s known to thrive off of. It lets him be himself without playing her emotions, and without causing a ruckus in the plans she has for her new life. And he gets the same in return— he gets to have his needs attended without sacrificing his core beliefs. Their friends with benefits trope rides along the wings of an official bond, only giving them what they want and nothing they don’t, which is how it was meant to be. How it should be.

So why does seeing her with someone else make him feel sick to his stomach?

Harry shakes off the ball of contempt writhing in his chest, clearing the tightness from his throat and molding his expression into a facade of calm indifference. Jealousy is for idiots. 

The vampire fully wraps his perched fingers around the rim of his sunglasses, removing them from the arch of his nose and tucking the shades along the collar of his shirt. He forces his feet to do their job, his lanky legs lurching forward and falling into a casual stride as he walks towards the two humans awaiting a response. 

Harry comes to a stop beside the mortals, clasping his bejeweled hands behind his back and plastering a dazzling grin across his cheeks. He regards his friend with a slight bow of his head, voice airy and carefree as ever. “Hey, Y/N.”

She almost faints in relief. Thank God he’s not mad. 

Y/N returns his smile, shoulders visibly relaxing. “It’s nice to see you.”

“S’nice to see you, too. Always such a…” He pauses, licking at the corner of his lips suggestively, giving her a knowing once-over that only she can interpret, “pleasure.”

The girl ignores the heat that immediately floods her cheeks. Of course he’s doing this in front of Jacob. Of course he’s peacocking. “Likewise.” 

Harry trains his attention onto the young man before him, pursing his lips into a polite smile. As polite as he can muster, anyways. “And who’s this?” 

Y/N blinks herself back into the present, quickly glancing away from Harry’s sharp jaw, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. He feels his ego swell a smidge.  

“This is Jacob.” The human comments easily, signaling to him with an upturned palm. “He’s Isabel’s cousin. You remember Isabel, right? You met her at the club.” 

“I don’t think I do, actually.” Harry murmurs, glimpsing up towards the ceiling to suggest he’s wracking his thoughts. He has a very vague recollection of the two girls he’d momentarily encountered the day he’d first met Y/N, but it’s hazy and unimportant. 

He looks back down at her with sparkling irises, rosy lips twitching with amusement at his next words, knowing they’re going to have a favorable impact. “I guess I was just too distracted by you to pay much attention to anyone else.”  

He can hear more blood rush into her face and the ecstasy it brings him is immeasurable. He cranes his sight back onto Jacob, who has the slightest crease in his brows at Harry’s compliment. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted. 

The monster unclamps his hands and juts one out stiffly towards the mortal. “M’Harry. Good to meet you, mate.” 

Jacob returns the gesture, grasping Harry’s hand firmly in a way the vampire knows is to try and establish dominance. It tickles him when humans try to be tough, especially because Harry could tear his arm right out of its socket as easily as he could lift a sheet of paper. The creature tightens his grip to match the man’s, purposefully putting a tad more strength in to make a silent point. He has to withhold the urge to crunch the boy’s fingers to dust. 

They both release from the exchange and a wave of dark satisfaction trickles into Harry’s bones when he sees Jacob curl and stretch his digits in mild pain. 

Y/N watches the whole scene with a breath trapped in her lungs. This feels surreal.

The blonde clears his throat softly, mouth jilting into an empty smile and it’s obvious he’s only doing it just to keep things civil. “Good to meet you, too. I take it you’re British?” 

“Pure-bred.” Harry remarks proudly, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly as if it’s no big deal. His gaze slinks towards Y/N for a second, tongue pushing along the inside of his cheek smugly. “It works wonders with the ladies.”

A flicker of spite stains the blue in Jacob’s eyes and the vampire feels like his soul is ascending. This is fun. 

“I can only imagine.” His opponent responds, voice somewhat strained as he directs his next question to the two friends. “So how do you know each other?” 

Harry opens his mouth to make an arrogant comment along the lines of, “A club. A few drinks. Some amazing sex. Y’know, the usual.” but Y/N knows him well enough that she anticipates it, speaking over him loudly before he can even get a syllable out.

“We met at a club and hit it off really well. Been friends ever since.” 

The immortal has to keep himself from adding something snarky to the end of her summary. He only does it because he can see a sharp warning flash across Y/N’s eyes. It’s wordless, but stern nonetheless: Don’t.

Harry swallows down his dig and feels it burn a hole in his stomach. Why is she protecting his feelings?

In all honesty, Y/N is only doing it out of kindness and nothing else. As annoying as Jacob may be, he doesn’t deserve to be embarrassed simply because Harry wants to feed his pride. It may be funny, but it’s pretty immature.

“Right.” Harry sighs happily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Friends. Good friends. Close friends. Intimate friends.” 

Y/N presses her lips into a straight line to keep herself in check. He’s trying to work her over and, unfortunately, he’s succeeding.  

“That’s nice.” Jacob nods casually, the innuendo luckily going right over his head. 

“Yeah, it is.” Harry states, eyes glinting mischievously as he quickly studies the man once again. He can’t help himself, he truly can’t. Not when this terribly-styled buffoon makes it so fucking easy. “I like your tan, by the way.” 

The human looks down at his arms for significance, eyes brightening. “Thank you! I got it done at that new place in—”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Looks almost real.” 

Jacob blinks blankly at the backhanded compliment. “Oh—?” 

“I mean, it’s got a few streaks here and there and your left arm looks a little more orange, but I think—”

“Anyways!” Y/N swiftly cuts in, interrupting her friend’s judgmental spiel and directing her attention towards her date. “Harry and I were actually planning on going to see a movie, which is why I had to be home by seven-thirty— we do it every Friday. And the movie starts at eight and traffic’s a bitch, so that’s why I was in such a hurry to get home.” 

Jacob nods slowly, giving her a sweet, understanding smile that makes Harry’s supernatural blood boil. “I see. Well, I—”

The vampire interrupts him once again, condescension flaring in his chest and dancing across the specks of amber surrounding his pupils. “Yeah, Y/N and I go to the theater every Friday. Recently, we’ve been going to the movies every single day of the weekend. And most times, we see several movies a night.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenches at Harry’s barely-veiled insinuation. She tries to talk over him, but he beats her to the punch. 

“Y’know what I’m talking about, right, Y/N?” He nudges her side playfully with his elbow, ignoring the way her eyes tell him to cut it out. “Remember that time we saw three movies in one night? Or the one that had the jacuzzi in it?”

The girl glimpses over at Jacob, who looks utterly confused and uncomfortable. “Harry—”

“Or what about that crime film, yeah? The one with the handcuffs.” He pinches at her love handle teasingly, reveling in how her entire torso tenses under his touch. “The one where they grabbed the criminal and slammed them up against the mirror? You have to remember that one. It’s hard to forget.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enough talk about—” 

“Oh, c’mon, dove.” Harry slings an arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, squeezing her into his body and feeling Jacob’s glare pierce the side of his face. He stares intently into Y/N’s irises, dimples winking awake at the needy desperation gradually inking its way into their reflection. His tone comes out soft but heavy with authoritative suggestion— the kind he always uses in bed. “Tell me you remember.” 

Y/N gulps quietly, mumbling her words begrudgingly. “Yeah, I...I remember.” 

A coy hum runs along the back of the vampire’s throat as he licks across his top teeth slyly. “I think that was your favorite one, wasn’t it? You seemed to have really enjoyed it. Like, properly enjoyed it. Loved every single second, if I recall correctly.” 

The human forces herself to cast her intent elsewhere, ears simmering and breathing stuttering ever so slightly. Her sight lands back onto a very frazzled Jacob, who is looking at the pair as if they’d sprouted horns, shifting unsurely across his feet. The expression of innocent befuddlement on his face makes guilt twist into her heart.   

The mortal roughly shrugs off Harry’s arm, stepping forward and placing a palm on Jacob’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much for the date. It was...nice.” 

Harry’s fists clench at his sides, though the action goes unnoticed. 

The human boy nods giddily at Y/N, glancing down to where she’s touching him so tenderly. “‘Course! I had a great time, too.” 

“Make sure to tell Isabel that. Maybe it’ll get her to do some sweeping on my behalf.” The girl jokes, giggling softly right along with the stranger. 

Harry can feel his nails threatening to break into his skin. 

“We really have to get going, though, so I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N prods, gifting her date one last beautiful smile to ease the awkwardness that had settled into the atmosphere, courtesy of Harry’s antics. 

“Sure!” Jacob bobs his head in agreement, pulling out his phone and swaying it symbolically. “You have my number, just text me whenever.” 

“Sounds good.”

Once the young man’s footsteps have faded down the complex’s staircase, Y/N swivels around on her heel to face Harry, arms falling across her chest in an irritated fashion. Her face pinches with annoyance as he leans casually against her door, his own arms folding over his strong chest with his fingers tapping along the inside of his elbows, attitude depicting not a single care in the world. 

He crosses his ankles easily, brows quirking at the way she’s blatantly glaring at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that people whose names start with a letter ‘J’ are bound to ruin your life?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry!” Y/N snaps, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her glossed lips dip into an aggravated grimace. “Are you serious right now?”

He tilts his head curiously, stifling a simper. “What’s wrong, love?”

“What’s wrong?” She retorts with a humorless laugh, astonished at his ability to act so purposefully dense. “You’re a fucking dick, that’s what’s wrong.”

The vampire sputters into a round of boyish cackling, his entire body shaking against the surface below him as his eyes crinkle shut in mirth. Y/N would be further infuriated if it wasn’t so damn cute. 

Harry’s laughter slowly dies down and once he has himself composed, his shoulders rise and fall once dismissively. “I was just fucking around. I didn’t think much of it.” 

“You didn’t think—?” Y/N chokes out in indignation, stomping over to him and poking him straight in the chest, right over his butterfly tattoo. Her perfume makes his mind swim in the best way imaginable. “You didn’t think for a second, in that big head of yours, that talking about our sex life in front of my date was overstepping?” 

Hearing Y/N officially refer to Jacob as her date makes Harry’s mood drop somberly. He tries to push it down and keep up a comical edge, but it’s harder than he’d care to admit. His accent comes out small and almost fragile, much to her surprise. “Well, I didn’t know you were on a date. Maybe if you had told me, I wouldn’t have come.” 

His words sting for some unknown reason. 

The mortal draws closer to him until he’s hovering above her, arms dropping down to her sides to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she tilts her chin upwards to get a better look at his stoney face. All anger melts right out of her voice, replaced by her usual delicate cadence. “Well, I...I didn’t think you’d care, really.” 

“I don’t.” He replies a little too quickly, a small pang of regret pricking his chest when her face immediately falls. “I mean...I mean it as in, like...I’m not keeping tabs on you or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to limit you.” 

Y/N looks back up at him from under her lashes, tone unreadable. “I didn’t think you were. Limiting me, that is. You don’t...limit me.”

Harry nods his head sharply in relieved confirmation, coughing a bit. His throat feels drier than usual and he knows it’s not for a blood-driven reason. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do.”

“Alright.” 

A charged silence befalls the ambiance between them and the vampire comes to the conclusion that getting his neck snapped was less painful than having this conversation. At least that was quick, whereas this is grueling and horribly uncomfortable, ridden with anxiety and too many elongated pauses. They are walking on extremely thin eggshells around one another, which is something they’ve never had to do before. They have always been on the same wavelength about their relationship and not once has such a nerve-inducing instance come to pass. Now a wrench has been thrown into their metaphorical mechanism and the nuts and bolts are dismantling by the handfuls, leaving them barren and closed-off more than ever. He can feel this situation straining their friendship and he hates it more than he hates those stupid tapestries she fancies.

“If you knew you were gonna be busy,” Harry starts carefully, gluing his attention to a random stain on the cement ground as he scuffs the heel of his boot against her dirty welcome mat, “why didn’t you just text me and cancel?” 

Y/N takes a shaky inhale, focusing on tracing the faded cursive letters on her rug. “I...I still wanted you to come.”

Harry’s foot halts its motions, gaze jumping to her for a thoughtful second, brows knotting with mild confusion at her confession. If she still wants him in her bed, why was she indulging someone else? “You wanted me to come?...Why?”

“Because Fridays are our days.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch. Our days. Their days. Theirs.

The brunette clears his throat to try and saw away at the tension, shifting against the door as the subject delves into heavier territory. He’s never been one to stutter— he’s much too confident in himself to ever have that issue— but it seems to have become a new development whenever Y/N is around. “If...If you want— uhm...If you want to see other people, you obviously don’t need my permission or anything. But I’d like a little heads-up, just so I know where we stand.” 

Y/N releases a curt sigh of exasperation and somehow, Harry can tell it’s not aimed towards him. It’s aimed towards herself. 

She fidgets with the tips of her fingers, talking to the floor but directing her message towards her friend. “It’s not what you think, H.” 

Harry pins his intent back onto her face, intrigue fully peaked. “What do you mean?” 

Y/N takes another trembling breath, releasing it through her nose as a tired exhale. She can feel him looming over her, waiting for an appropriate response with his lips set into a detached line, his ever-present aroma of vanilla and tobacco muddling her thoughts. “I...I mean the date. It wasn’t truly a real date, per se.”

The vampire’s eyes bore into her relentlessly as he clings onto every syllable she speaks. He’s clutching to a form of hope that he deems absolutely humiliating. “How so?”

Y/N picks at the chipping lavender polish on her nails and he finds it adorable how the color of the lacquer matches one of the main notes in her scent. 

She speaks up softly and honestly, and he thinks he detects a shred of guilt to her explanation. “Isabel was the one who set it up. Her cousin came into the cafe and when he saw me, he asked her to get me to go on a date with him. I have no actual interest in Jacob, but I said yes just to be nice. I didn’t wanna upset Isabel by making her think her cousin wasn’t good enough for me or something. That’s the only reason I went.” 

Harry slowly twists his lionhead daylight ring around his middle finger, simultaneously thumbing over the opal on his pinky. The stone is cold to the touch, but not nearly as cold as his skin. 

He reiterates her story slowly, wanting to make sure he interpreted correctly. “So...you only went on the date because you felt bad? You don't actually like him?”

Y/N’s hands plop down against her thighs as she tilts her head back up to look at him, her tone and eyes completely deadpan. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound kind of mean.” 

Harry snorts softly, mouth buckling into his signature crooked smirk. “It’s pretty cruel, to be honest— giving that poor bloke hope like that. Very malicious of you.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle jokingly, her lips toying with a grin. “Shut up.” 

“You should be careful. Something tells me his ego bruises easily.” 

“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?” 

The vampire sucks at his teeth, tapping his chin in faux thought as he shrugs his brows tauntingly. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably the overly-tight shirt and fraternity ring. Seems to me like he’s trying to make up for something he lacks. Probably in the intimacy department.”

Y/N chews along her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles. “You are cruel.” 

“I prefer the term ‘brutally honest.’ Sounds classier.” 

“Right. Because you’re all about class.” 

“Heyyyy!” Harry whines in exaggerated insult, face contorting with dramatic offense. “I’m a classy guy! I have the English accent and fancy chandeliers to prove it!” 

“Right. Super classy.” 

“I’m a proper gentleman.” The monster huffs with begrudging finality, irises glitzing deviously. “That is, until you beg me to behave otherwise.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He looks down at her over the crests of his sharp cheekbones as she gazes up at him with a humorously flat expression, feeling all the pent-up stress from the previous events dissolve away into nothing. Harry reaches forward, taking a single curled strand of her hair and moving it behind her shoulder to get a better look at her face. The gesture makes Y/N’s heartbeat hiccup. Especially when that same forefinger ends up poised below her chin, his thumb distractedly caressing across her jaw. 

The creature’s next sentence comes out low and almost vulnerable. “So it meant nothing, then? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to get in the way of your dating life if you—”

“It meant nothing.” Y/N confirms, bobbing her head once insistently. She cradles her cheek into his icy palm, keeping their eyes locked as she gives it a gentle kiss, her insides fluttering when Harry’s breathing hitches. “I’m not gonna be seeing him again anytime soon. Or ever, probably. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you— because I knew it wouldn’t change anything between us. You’re the only person I’m interested in right now.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

The young man swallows thickly, leaning down to smudge his nose across the girl’s and the action erupts a certain flood of warmth so powerful, it could very well kickstart the dead organ below his ribs. His voice is tumbling down his numb tongue before he can think to stop it. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” 

Y/N’s fingers stretch upwards to wrap around his wrist securely, almost as if to tether him and eliminate the chance of his touch slipping away. Her whisper is trembly and raw. “You have?” 

Harry knows he’s allowing this to wade into dangerously grey waters, but he can’t find it in himself to care, at the moment. “Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt last time.” 

The mortal teeters onto the tips of her toes, flirting her mouth over her friend’s, a prickling sensation stemming from where their cupid’s bows brush. She glimpses at him amidst her lashes, glassy eyes reflecting his need right back at him. “Tell me more. Please?”

The breath of Harry’s words is hot against her mouth, his eyes lulling closed as he recalls all of the memories from the last few days. “I just couldn’t shake it. You were just so tight and warm and the way you were pushing back against my thrusts...the way you were shaking and whimpering...the way you flipped around and slammed your mouth to mine because you wanted me to moan onto your tongue….It was so fucking filthy, I just— I couldn’t—”

His control begins to shatter and the immortal can feel desperation leak through the cracks webbing across his composure. Y/N isn’t helping any, considering she’s started suckling lightly at his bottom lip, her free hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Keep going.” 

Harry gulps heavily before continuing. “I touched myself while fantasying about you. Lost count of how many times, honestly. But I came so hard every single one. It was pretty easy to lose myself like that, just sitting there thinking about everything we do. Thinking about how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, taking it down your throat like such a good fucking girl. How nice your arse feels in my hands, especially when you ask me to spank it. How snug you are when you sink over me, stretching around it like it’s made just for you. How the little noises you make sound so fucking perfect— like a song, really. And...and how good you taste between your thighs. S’like honey. Just so fucking sweet.” 

There’s a pause as Harry’s words sink into the air, his dirty confessions pulling passion taut into existence between the two lovers. They’re all over each other in less than a heartbeat. 

Y/N begins to fumble with the small purse she has strung across her body, frantically fishing for her keys as Harry delights himself with sponging his lips across the slope of her jaw, grinning into her skin at the little curses escaping her throat. He absolutely adores how whipped she gets for him. 

The human manages to retrieve her key, jamming it into the lock blindly as her eyes blur with tears of sheer need, stemming from the tiny shots of bliss Harry is instilling through the sloppy pecks he’s trailing down her jugular. She hastily turns the knob, bumping her full weight into the door and nearly fainting in relief when it swings open. She turns sharply to face him, roping her arms around his strong shoulders and pulling him into her, shuddering at how incredible it feels to have his strong torso flushed to hers so intimately. Harry allows himself to be yanked forward into her apartment, giggling softly when she crashes their mouths together messily, harshly tugging him past the threshold. 

The vampire’s lean arms wrap around her waist as the young woman maneuvers their connected bodies into the narrow hallway of her flat, one of her hands waving around wildly until it succeeds in shoving the door shut. Y/N slams Harry up against the closest wall, feverishly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and nearly ripping them out of their designated holes. Her hands quiver as she races down the seams, her eyes tinging darker when Harry leans his head back against the panel and smirks down at her smugly. 

He gnaws on his bottom lip, his half-lidded gaze mocking her hysteria as his voice comes out deep and melodic as always, slathered with self-assured arrogance. “You’re so cute when you’re this eager to fuck me.” 

Y/N pants against his twitching lips, tearing his top down his broad figure and shamelessly groping at his swollen biceps. “Just shut up and kiss me.”  

Harry abides, lulling his tongue along her upper lip and thrumming deeply when her digits trickle down his abdomen. He coos into her mouth as she begins fiddling with his belt buckle. “What, no interior design emergency this time? You’re losing your touch, darling.” 

The girl pulls the leather strap off his pants in a frenzy, scoffing at his stupid quip and breaking their kiss to speckle her mouth down his bare chest, feeling it stutter below her influence. “I got some new chairs for my dining table. Wanna take a look?” 

The boy’s fingers card into her roots as she descends down his stomach with wet pecks, his eyes rolling closed with a strained grunt. She bites along his fern inkings and his hips buck forward in response, his grip on her hair tightening when she palms over the outline of his clothed cock. “You know I’m always a sucker for some good dining chairs.”

As it turns out, Y/N had actually gotten some new chairs, much to Harry’s surprise. 

They’re nice, in his opinion. They seem sturdy enough, with metal backrests and legs that are covered in tarnished gold paint that gives a pleasing rustic look. But in the end, Harry doesn’t really much care for the details of the furniture. All he cares about is if they’ll manage to withstand Y/N’s weight as he shoves her onto her knees atop the chair and bends her over the back. Or if they’ll stay put as he pounds into her from behind with a fist in her hair and his letter rings marking across her backside. That’s all that truly matters. 

Despite having done this countless of times before, this particular instance feels different. Both of them can tell, but Y/N feels it more prevalently. Specifically, in the bottom of her stomach and in the pain sweltering across her ass.

Harry’s just…rougher. He’s still himself, so he makes sure she’s okay with everything he does before doing it, but when he gets the green light, he doesn’t let it go to waste. His grip on her roots is harsh, with his nails digging into her scalp as he jerks her head back to bring her in for a kiss, her spine arching into a semi-circle. The position is difficult given the amount of flexibility required, but Y/N powers through. She quite likes it, actually— it gives him a deeper range of depth, somehow. She can feel him touching the trench of her tummy and she refuses to do anything that might make that stop.

The kiss is upside down, but the vampire doesn’t let that deter him. It’s still dirty and heedless, with lots of biting and overzealous tongues, broken whines and fractured pleas. Y/N freely moans into his mouth, gasping and mewling to his every thrust with a certain type of helplessness that flogs the flames blistering Harry’s dormant veins. He loves that he makes her feel helpless, especially because she makes him feel the exact same way. 

His stride is fast and deep and unapologetic— vengeful, almost, and they both know why. Even though Y/N had told the creature that the date had been nothing but a selfless chore, he can’t seem to let it go as easily as she had. He finds himself wanting to prove to her that he’s better than that insipid stranger. That he can give her everything she wants without a single issue. That he can deliver everything she needs with expert skill and relentless force, just as she prefers. That he can make her entire body tremble in overstimulation and make every fiber of her being tingle with sheer pleasure, just by gifting her a few adamant snaps of his hips and by muttering a couple filthy promises onto her unfeeling tongue. 

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to make you feel like this, huh, pet?” Harry growls against her swollen lips, plunging his thick length into her and nudging at that sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “Bet he wouldn’t know how to handle you— how to handle that tight cunt and that sharp tongue. Could never take care of you the way I do, isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N rattles her head in her friend’s grasp, releasing fragmented noises of bliss as he hikes her dress further up her ass and gives it another brutal spank. She can feel his rings imprinting across her sweaty skin and she strives off it more than she should. 

Her voice comes out garbled and weak. “N-No one can make me feel as good as you.” 

“Damn straight.” Harry grits out, breaking their prolonged kiss to rest his chin against her damp forehead, looking down at her from over his sharp, tinted cheekbones. “Nobody can fuck you into a begging mess like I can. Whose pretty cunt is this, angel? Who’s the only one who gets to call you their little slut?” 

The electricity crackling around his pupils is borderlining on unhinged, but she adores it. The fact that she can drive him to the brink like that feeds the affinity she has to win his praise. “It’s yours, Harry. Just yours— it’s always just you. You’re the only one. Nobody e-else— fuck, oh my God!”

“You got all dolled up for him, though. Why’s that’s, hm?” Harry’s hold releases from her hair and fumbles down to her throat, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises across her jugular as he grunts lowly with every hellbent ram. “If you didn’t care, why’d you get all pretty, then? Why’d you wear perfume? And why’d you wear that dress— my dress?”

Y/N’s lashes flutter as he refers to her outfit, which is the same one she’d had on the day they had officially established their loose arrangement. Hearing him call it his— hearing him claim it as his own with so much dominant confidence— makes the pit of her belly froth. It is his. Sure, she’d worn it for the sake of looking presentable, but it was only to satisfy the basic rules of what a date entails. In truth, under the excuse of inherent kindness, she’d worn it because she knew Harry would see it afterwards. Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted to please him. 

The girl communicates that to him now in the form of a feathery mumble, staring up at his angered eyes with a moony, innocent aura. “I wore it f-for you.”  

The intense jealousy present in Harry’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows dissipates, replaced by soft awe at her wispy affirmation. He pants as he absorbs the real meaning behind her entire appearance, feeling sparks ignite in his heaving chest. “You...You did it for me?” 

Y/N struggles to swallow in his rough grip, nodding a bit as her fingers tighten around the edge of the chair. “I know you like it and, well…I like making you happy.” 

Harry’s lips part in astonished wonder, though he’s not so sure why her admission had caught him off guard. She’s told him plenty of times that she likes giving him what he wants, but this just feels slightly more personal than anything else she’s ever uttered during an orgasmic stupor. It’s tipping along one of the lines they had sworn not to cross. 

The vampire hadn’t even realized his strokes had tapered to a halt, and apparently neither had she. They’re both too busy looking into each other’s eyes with expressions that neither can decipher. The tense pause only lasts maybe three seconds at most, but it feels like they manage to fit an eternity of uncertain silence within that short time frame. 

Harry cuts through the moment by clearing his throat, intent on changing the subject into something much lighter that will allow them to return to their previous activity. However, the words that rasp out of his raw lips are ones he hadn’t consciously consented to. They come from a sincere nature he’d suppressed for so long, he didn’t think it was possible for it to ever resurface again. “I like making you happy, too.”

Y/N blinks up at him with her usual doe-like air, the corners of her lips twitching fondly at his requited compliment. “I guess we just like making each other happy, then, don’t we?” 

The monster has never been more thankful for her witty personality. It gives him the opportunity to stuff his emotions back into the box they belong, allowing him to regain his typical composure and return her banter without a hitch. He bursts into a round of wheezy giggles, tapping at the hollow of her throat playfully. “I guess so. We’ll add that to the list of things we do to each other, right under ‘excite.’”

The rest of the session goes as usual, thankfully. Some more degrading names are exchanged, positions are switched, hickies are stained on fleshy thighs and damp shoulders, and Harry’s array of rings paint an art piece across Y/N’s backside that he thinks is worthy of the Louvre. His initials are signed on it and everything. 

The pair end up splayed across her trusty old couch, catching their breaths from the heavy exertion they’d just put each other through. Y/N is still in her dress, though it’s rumpled, damp, and the thin straps are hanging off her shoulders limply. Harry is bare, as he always is after sex, per his raunchy preference. However, Y/N had made him cover himself with a blanket in order to keep at least a shred of decency between them. Plus, she’d said she didn’t want his “limp dick brushing against my dress while we cuddle.” 

And that’s what they’re doing now— snuggling on her couch with the human pressed up against the vampire’s side, his arm slung around her shoulders casually as she doodles random shapes across the colored skin of his tummy. She has one leg hooked across his covered hips, which he’s more than happy to allow because he thoroughly enjoys rubbing his palm up and down the back of her thigh; it’s soothing and warm. Y/N entertains herself with nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly as he props his chin atop her temple and pets at her frizzy hair with gentle strokes. It’s a nice moment, full of slowly steadying breaths and the hum of the air vent at the other end of the room. 

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

“I give the chairs a ten out of ten. IKEA really outsold.” 

Y/N slaps her hand down against his naked chest, sputtering into a wave of loud laughter that is unbelievably contagious. “I’m happy you like them ‘cause, uh...they were on clearance. Can’t return them.” 

“You lucked out then, didn’t you? Kudos to your ability to pick out decent furniture.” Harry twirls a strand of her tangled locks around his index finger, giving it a playful tug as a grin dimples his flushed cheeks. “Except for when it comes to wall decor.”

“It’s not my fault you're a stuck-up asshole.” 

“And it’s not my fault you have a knack for cringey drapery depicting ClipArt images.” 

“I’m going to strangle you with one of my tapestries, I really am.”

“Be my guest. At least I won’t have to look at them ever again.” The immortal squeezes her thigh jestingly, his smile widening when she squirms and giggles. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been fucking and I accidentally glanced at it and almost went soft.” 

“But you didn’t.” She reasons, flicking at one of his nipples in revenge and feeling proud when he hisses softly. 

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I could have.” Harry insists stubbornly, reaching up to push a few wet curls out of his tired eyes. “Have you ever had someone go soft inside you? It’s pretty gross. Highly discourage it.”

“Just close your eyes, then.” Y/N states with finality, pinching at his belly button and cackling in satisfaction when he writhes. “You’re real shitty at solving problems, y’know that? You could never be Sherlock.” 

Harry goes quiet for a second and his friend almost looks up to check if he’s alright; he’s too petty to ever back out of anything. But sure enough, his voice comes out a second later, flat and unyielding. “Take down the glorified curtains or I’m never eating you out again.”

“I’ll take down my glorified curtains the day you take down that Stevie Nicks poster on your wall.” 

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

The lovers chat and bicker childishly for a while longer, talking about anything and everything that will keep them entertained. Harry explains to Y/N how his friends had gone on a trip this week (though he makes sure to omit the fact that he had willingly bailed in order to spend time with her) and he’d been alone most of the time. She responds to his story with an incredulous yelp, telling him that he should’ve come over if he wanted some company. She says she would have been more than happy to hang out with him, but he knows she’d been so busy the entire week with work, she probably would have fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It’s the thought that counts, though, so he thanks her for the belated support, either way. 

Y/N talks about a weird customer that had come in and ordered a sandwich with nothing but cucumbers and cheddar cheese on French bread, which she had later recreated to taste-test herself out of curiosity. She can confirm it was abhorrent and the way her nose crinkles with disgust makes Harry snort in endearment. She also tells him about how horribly the date with Jacob had gone, simply because she can tell he’s itching to ask. She recounts everything the young man boasted about, from the annoying college stories to his stupid opinion about clubs. She informs him that she’d never had a more terrible experience in her life and that she wishes she could get that hour of her life back. 

Harry can’t help the way his face lights up at how utterly repulsed she sounds. He knew it. He fucking knew she would never insert herself into a romantic situation with such a comedic punchline of a human being. Hearing her confirm his suspicions is almost as pleasurable as what she can do with her mouth. Almost. 

The vampire finds himself lost in his thoughts, thinking about how much better the whole event would have gone if it had been him instead. How he would have picked her up from her flat by actually getting out of the car and knocking on her door, rather than just sending her a text to come down. How he would have helped her into his car like a proper gentleman, and how he would’ve aided her back out when the time came. How he would enter the restaurant with his palm resting at the dip of her back, guiding the girl towards their seats and pulling out a chair for her. How they’d make conversation as easily as they always do, and how he’d have her laughing between mouthfuls of food, and how he’d expertly flirt her into a fidgety puddle. How he’d reach over the table to get a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and how she’d thank him with that shy smile he’d grown to admire. How he’d wave off her suggestion to split the bill, paying it all himself and smirking as she scolds him for it because she likes being hard-headed and independent. How much fun she would actually have, and how she would probably be willing to go out on a second date.  

Harry’s comment topples out of his mouth before he can rethink it. 

“I bet I could take you out on a better date.” 

Y/N’s head snaps upwards to meet his gaze, eyebrows jumping in utter shock. She hadn’t been expecting that from him at all. Ever. 

She talks between airy spurts of glee. “That was random.” 

Harry doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, his lips don’t even jolt in the slightest. He simply just stares down at her with seriousness decorating his features, long lashes blinking blankly. He doesn’t know what overcame him to make such a bizarre, uncalled for claim, but he can’t take it back now. And he’s not so sure he wants to, honestly. He knows there’s truth to his belief— he could definitely do a better job of wooing her than that Jesse McCartney wannabe. It’s not like it’s hard.

Aside from that, seeing Y/N out with another man had reminded Harry that their little alliance isn’t anything solid— it’s not bulletproof, and he really shouldn’t be taking it for granted. He’d been so cocky and self-assured about himself and what he has to offer, he’d forgotten that there is always the possibility that Y/N might grow tired of him. It may be a microscopic possibility, but it exists, nonetheless. If he wants to keep her interested, he has to up his game a bit, or she might decide that he isn’t worth keeping around. If he wishes to maintain this favorable arrangement where he gets his intimate tendencies tailored and his supernatural necessities sufficed, he needs to give her a more fulfilling reason to stay. 

Good sex is a very convincing factor, sure, but there might come a time in her life when she wants more than just a no-strings-attached affair. There may come a time when she’ll mature out of this stage and seek something sturdier and safe and anchored. There may come a time when she wants a real relationship, and if he doesn’t keep her occupied, that could be sooner rather than later. And it could be with someone else. He doesn’t want this convenience taken away from him— doesn’t want to lose the thing they have going, which keeps him out of annoying clubs, out of random people’s beds, and gives him the best blood he’s tasted in the last twenty decades. It’s too comfortable and satisfying to let go. He has to keep her hooked somehow, and if taking her on a date can assure that this flawless dream remains intact, then he’ll gladly do it. 

Harry licks his lips slowly, measuring out his next words with immense precision. “I’m being serious. I can definitely do better.” 

A million emotions funnel into Y/N’s eyes at once and he can only pick out a select few: confusion, astonishment, fear, denial, and slight unease. There is the chance that the monster may be interpreting all of the human’s feelings incorrectly because, truth be told, he isn’t the best at gauging or handling sentiments. However, there is one he knows he’s not misjudging— it’s the most evident one of all: Excitement. 

“Think about it for a second, yeah?” Harry starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows decisively. “I’ve already gotten in your pants. That means I have no ulterior motive, right?”

Y/N’s own brows kink a smidge. “I...I guess.”

Her friend continues his speech. “Because of that, it means I won’t rush the date, I won’t expect anything from you, and we already get on pretty well, as it is. It’d be a proper good time— a genuine good time.”

The girl’s eyes flicker around different points of his face, trying to make sure he’s not pulling some type of cruel prank. Her tone comes out hesitant and slow. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Harry squeezes the back of her thigh reassuringly. “It’s all in mathematics, love; everything adds up. It’s truly an ideal situation, if you ask me. Practically utopian.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath, letting it out shakily. This is all so sudden and unexpected, she feels like Harry might burst into laughter any minute and reveal it’s all just a big joke. It’s just not them. It’s out of bound— it scribbles outside the box drawn around their whole dynamic. They were never meant to date, they were just meant to sleep together; they were meant to provide each other with the satisfaction that comes from a real relationship, without all the trials and tribulations. Harry asking her on a date blurs those sacred boundaries in a way she’s not sure she’s ready to face. It could mess everything up. It could not only ruin the fun little arrangement they have going, but it could potentially destroy their entire friendship. Harry is the only person she’s truly connected with since she moved to Los Angeles and risking that bond on an impulsive decision...That’s something she doesn’t think she can afford to do. She can’t survive her new life on her own. This is just too dangerous. Way too dangerous. 

But then again...it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it before. She will admit, there have been instances where she’s pictured her and Harry becoming more than just warm bodies to each other. The two days she spent over at his house the weekend prior had solidified those fantasies and made them more frequent. They just click so well, she knows for a fact they’d make a great team. It’d be like dating a best friend, in a way. They fit one another in a manner she didn’t think was possible, and despite the fact they’ve only been acquainted for just over a month and a half, it feels like they’ve been friends for years. She feels like these types of connections are rare to create and she finds herself wishing it could develop into more. 

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

Y/N tunes back into reality, gazing up at Harry with reluctant eyes. She’s surprised to find his are full of confident clarity, as if he’s already sold on the idea and had begun planning their outing. He’s simply awaiting her response at this point, thumbing over her knee gently while tucking her hair behind her ear, lips poised into that lopsided simper that makes her heart skip and her nerves glitch. How could she possibly find it in herself to say no to him? 

The mortal clears her throat lightly, gnawing into her cheek as she speaks her next words with airy humor. “So is that your official way of asking me out? ‘Cause if so, that’s not enough. You’re gonna have to do better, love.”

Harry hesitates for a split second, but it’s so fast, his friend doesn’t even take notice. He prays he doesn’t grow to regret this decision. 

The boy nods, pursing his mouth into a small smile. 

“I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you? Must be the AC.” 

Harry rolls his eyes grandly at the stolen joke, which is identical to one he had made two weeks ago when he’d come over for their usual adult pastime and had brought a special toy in tow. 

His mood comes out theatrical, accent heavily exaggerated. “Dear fair maiden, would you be so kind as to do me the impeccable honor of allowing me to bask in your presence by attending a luncheon with me, preferably sometime in the near future? Thank you so much for your consideration. Sincerely signed...” The creature takes a pause, proceeding to sing his next words to the tune of a song they are both familiar with, given their interest in the Hamilton play. “Your Obedient Servant, H dot Styles.” 

Y/N explodes into a series of giggles, shaking her head as she reaches up to peck at his grinning lips. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

[stressedoutcanary]

Family Matters - Batfamily x Reader

Summary: A surprise birthday party and Batfamily being chaotic.

“That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them”

Warnings ⚠️: Fluff, lots of it, angst because I can’t help myself, Reader has got some parental issues. Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I wanted some good dad Bruce content so I did it myself. Also I might have been influenced by a post I made a while back about Bruce and his children. I haven't used reader's pronouns anywhere so it's kinda gender neutral.

I don’t know where I was going with this, my imagines are often like a train derailed from its track but I think it’s fine. So Enjoy ;)  

•°•°•°•°

"Focus (Y/S/N), don't jump in in blind, assessing what action your opponent is about to undertake and countering it out before they can complete that action, this is the key lesson for you today", Batman's commanding voice echoed in the enclosed area of the batcave as he observed you attempting to roundhouse kick the boy in front of you. It was rather rashly executed with the hope of knocking him down which, for obvious reasons, only ended up with your leg connecting with nothing but thin air.

'Damn he is fast when he actually tries.'

"Easy for you to say Old Man! You aren't the one dancing with Mister Duckboy, the teen wonder over here!", you exclaimed, panting as your chest heaved from the exertion.

"Duckboy?!", Tim looked near scandalized as you grinned in return, stealing a glance towards the giggling crowd gathered near the stairs.

Everyone was already in the cave, it was a rare occurrence, it happened only when the issues of upmost importance were being discussed. Today was one of those days; The planning of Alfred Pennyworth's surprise birthday party.

However things usually went a lot less violent, this day every year. The sparring session this year was the result of you messing up, real bad while on patrol last night and since you were around the same age as Tim, he was found to be the most appropriate partner for it. The only drawback was that he had a staff in his hands while your weapons were confiscated, because in Bruce's words 'you rely on them too much'. You were already tired and Tim had a huge advantage over you, if you wanted to win this match you had to be quick and efficient at the same time.

Distracting Tim by your comment allowed you to have an opening, gathering all your strength you went in for a forward strike. Unfortunately he was more than ready to take you on, he crouched down, narrowly missing your punch then proceeded to swipe your legs off of the ground with his bo staff making you fall butt first on the floor.

"Congratulations you've managed to hurt both my ass and my ego, Timbers", You said laying back on the ground, hands and legs spread out and instead of helping you up, Tim joined you on the floor sitting next to you. You gave him a look that was equivalent to 'next time I get the chance, I am going to push you off a roof'.

"Your skills need improvement", Bruce said in his monotonous tone as you grunted knowing that a full ass lecture was gonna follow, but before he could get another word out, Jason chimed in with a statement no one ever expected to hear from him,"You know (Y/N), he's not wrong in fact I think the old man's actually got a point."

Jaws dropped to floor, Tim looked like he just saw a ghost, Dick who was standing near Barbara pinched himself to see whether he was dreaming or not, Damian snapped his neck up from where he was sharpening his katana, even Titus and Ace perked their heads up at the sudden silence that settled over the place. Barbara, Cass, Duke and Steph looked equally shocked.

"Before you all get any ideas, what I'm trying to say is you better pay attention because B over here won't be able to save your ass, 'cause if you slack off the next thing you know you would be in a warehouse with a maniac, getting blown to bits", Jason looked at Bruce with accusing eyes.

'And here I thought he was finally going to say something sensible', you thought to yourself as he continued,

"Take it from someone who has had that experience, you guys remember right? The fact that I--"

"Died, we know!!", everyone groaned at the same time and Bruce looked like he had to physically restrain himself from faceplaming.

"Okay! Guys how about we go ahead and do the thing we all actually came here to do instead of... whatever this conversation was", you suggested, getting up and patting the dust off your clothes.

"Well then someone has got to ask the important question here", Barbara looked around as she worded her sentence,"who is going to be the one to keep Alfred busy while we get everything ready?"

Once again the cave went silent. For a whole bunch of detectives, you all were very, very scared of Alfred, including Bruce even though he will never admit it, lying to The old-butler-cum-grandpa and making random excuses for the whole 3 hours was a thought dreadful enough to make all of you exchange petrified glances at each other hoping someone would step forward to do the job.

"I'll do it", dick raised his hand.

"NO!", everyone snapped and Dick's head tilted with a pout.

"You are good at doing a lot of stuff boy wonder, hiding things from Alfred isn't one of them", Barbara comforted Dick as Damian stepped up next.

"*tt* Since none of you imbeciles have the courage or the ability to do it. I shall be the one to handle Pennyworth. Gordon, Cain and Titus, I will require your assistance", Damian spoke or rather commanded as he went up the stairs, followed by the group he chose.

"Don't mess this up for us, you gremlin!"

"Tim!", you lightly jabbed him in the side with your elbow.

"Ow! What?"

"Be nice", you narrowed your eyes and he understood you were being serious.

"Fine I'll try, but don't blame me if he starts something", Tim shrugged carelessly. You shook your head and let out an audible sigh as you followed everyone else up towards the manor.

•°•°

"That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them", you eyed him worriedly.

"Oh come (Y/N) it'll be fine!", the cheerfulness in his voice made you cock an eyebrow at him from below. Duke slid in beside you.

"10 bucks says he will somehow fall within the next hour"

"Oh Duke you should know better, 20 says he'll fall within 30 minutes", you turned towards him with an evil smile.

"What are you both talking about down there?"

"NOTHING!", you both said in unison on which Dick gave you a confused look.

"Oh Hey look Steph needs my help with the cake so, see ya!", you quickly moved to the other side of the room checking in with Stephanie and Tim. She gave you a thumbs up to signal that everything was going according to plan and the place was almost ready. Everyone was laughing, bickering, having fun, it was all very rare and seeing it, a warm feeling spread throughout you.

You smiled to yourself for a moment but it faltered and a frown pulled up at your lips, a sorrowful thought crossed your mind, something you always kept buried deep down. Looking around and seeing as nobody needed your help at the moment you decided to slip out of the chaos, taking slow steps towards the patio to clear your head.

•°•°

Leaning against the railing you thought back to how you left your house this morning telling your mother that you are going to stay at your friend's place for a while and how she just waved her hand at that, not even questioning you anymore. Your mind was completely elsewhere, despite the awe-inspiring dense forest right in front of you, your eyes were lost in space.

You registered, a bit too late, the presence of someone standing beside you.

"It is a nice view, but something tells me that's not what brought to out here, away from everyone else"

"Careful there Brucie or people might think that you are actually capable of some emotions which happen include caring for people", you retorted back at him. It was always a sort of defense mechanism for you, whenever you felt exposed you countered it with snarky remark.

You closed your eyes hoping that Bruce would just walk away. But he didn't. He stayed there.

Bruce leaned on the railing beside you and waited. You took a deep breath, contemplating you next move carefully.

"...Look It's really silly so can we drop it?", you whispered wondering why in the world would Bruce of all people, care about your feelings.

"Talk to me (Y/N). I can tell when something is bothering you, I may not be your father, but you are my family.", unlike usual, his voice was gentle and genuine when he spoke to you.

"I am really not a fan of surprise birthdays", you stated, starting off vaguely.

"And why is that?"

"Because I...It's silly but this one time I spent a whole week working on a birthday gift for my mom, it was like a craft pop up box which had multiple photos of us together, I made that from scratch! everything in it I made that, I worked hard for it, I did it out of love but when I gave her that surprise gift you know what she said Bruce! She said that I wasted my time that she would've been much happier if I had focused on my studies, she never even once said that she liked it and I--", you looked at him with tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill.

"I don't know Bruce, it-it just makes me feel sad you know? every little thing reminds me that my mother doesn’t seem to love me anymore. There is this constant thought in my mind that no one cares about me, about what I do for them and I don’t know what to do with a thought like that."

"That's not true, look around you kiddo, you are surrounded by people who would do anything for you, who love you from the bottom of their hearts", Bruce finally looked at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's the thing! I am not an orphan!", you blurted out and Bruce looked more confused than ever.

"I'm aware"

"No! No you are not. I am not one of those kids you picked up from somewhere, I don't live here, Like I am sure you people aren't even sane, hell! you all make up the most dysfunctional family I have ever seen! I don’t belong here, you people have no reason to care about", Bruce gave you a sideways look, slightly chuckling at your sudden description of the people in the manor.

"But I still love everyone, my mom, you, every dumbass inside the manor right now, no matter much pain they cause me and I don't get why", this time when he looked at you, you didn't look like the vigilante who sucker punched The Riddler in the face last night, you looked like a scared little kid who is lost.

Bruce stood up straight and wrapped you in a hug. Something you never expected to happen in a million years. The shocked settled in after a bit and you wrapped your hands around him, burying your face in his chest.

"The people we love are still people at the end of the day. They act out, and sometimes they let us down, hurt us even, but that doesn't mean we stop loving them. For every bad memory, there will always be a good one that will get you through it. I promise you that (Y/N)", Bruce pulled away and gave you a warm smile. You couldn't help but smile back, your face matching his.

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne? because I don't recognize this man who is full of emotions and on top of that, is giving free hugs right now", you broke into a grin, making Bruce's face go back to the stoic version.

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it"

"Sure you will"

Suddenly a clattering sound came from the hall, alerting you both. This, however, was followed by a 'I'm okay!' By the one Dick Grayson, which in turn was followed by Duke's 'Oh no!'

"Any idea what that was about?", Bruce inquired raising an eyebrow as you burst out laughing.

"That, you big softie, was the sound of me getting my 20 dollars, now let's get back before they destroy everything."

•°•°

You and Bruce entered back into the hall, everyone was gathered around waiting for Damian and his group to signal the beloved butler's arrival. You stood next to Tim as Jason moved towards the switches to turn off the lights.

"Okay I'll bite why are you covered in frosting before the party even started?"

"Steph", Tim replied, too tired to elaborate, leaving you giggling.

Barbara, Cass and Damian rushed through the door, looking close to terrified, with Titus tagging along.

"He is here, HIDE!", Damian said quickly closing the doors.

After a few moments, the door creaked open and Alfred's voice came through, "Master Damian, you and I will have words for what you did to-- Oh my", he was stuck to his position at the door, too shocked to say anything more after looking at the decorations and bunch gathered around an enormous cake.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED!!", you all exclaimed with extreme excitement.

As the party went on you noticed that there was, in fact, a broken chandelier broomed to the side, later on there were a few not-at-all-safe stunts performed by the boys, some really bad puns made by Dick, all sorts of shenanigans by the others and cake, lots of cake. You looked around, everyone was busy doing something but now you knew Bruce was right:

You have one hell of a family, original, found or otherwise. And you love them all no matter what.

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @thesesickfics-justmakemesick

[papergirllife]

This is part of the addiction collab hosted by @127-mile​.

Pairing :  Underground fighter Jaehyun x step sister reader

Warnings : Criminal activity, minor character death, step siblings crossing the line, suggestive content.

Wordcount : 15k+

Pain and the constant flirting with death is a monotony to Jeong Jaehyun, the adrenaline rush he gets from it ignites a flame inside him, the only way he feels alive is by being on the edge of a great death, but he knows that he won’t die in the ring he fights in at the infamous underground fight club in Seoul, as sadist as it sounds, the chances of his opponents dying at his feet is a much larger possibility. Jaehyun isn’t a man of morals, especially not after the incident that made him escape the states after years of living away from his mother and step father in Seoul, he thought he’d be living in Michigan for good after the many years he’d been there.

Things have been like this for the past year or so, until he follows his step sister out the house in the middle of the night one day, thinking he’d get to know what dirty secret she was hiding from her father and his mother, her step mother. In the pair’s eyes, you are nothing but perfect, the family’s treasured filial little girl. What he didn’t know, is that this night, would change him forever. He had never found a cure for his malicious addiction towards pain and danger, but she might just be a close second.

The sweat drips of his face as he takes another blow to his stomach from his opponent, the familiar ache in his abdomen rings from his head to his abdomen, yet he doesn't mind the pain, he just needs to wait for the right time, to let his opponent think that he's going to win, to have his ego swell up his head so that he wouldn't anticipate Jaehyun's next move. 

Jaehyun levels his body downwards as if his body was responding to the pain, that to him, is nothing at all, in fact, he's addicted to it, knowing that he'll get the upper hand by just enduring a little bit of pain, and when his opponent doesn't expect it, he punches his opponent under the jaw with all his might, the familiar crunch of bones against his knuckles brings a maniac smile to his face as he watches his opponent fall to the ground after a slight lift off from the strength of the up thrust force from his fist. A loud thump could be heard when his opponent fell on the floor, and soon after, the countdown begins.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1... And you're out!" the referee shouts, blowing his whistle right after, the familiar chime that alerts Jaehyun of his victory.

Manipulation. It's something that's become a monotony in his life. He's the best fighter in Monster, the biggest underground fighting club in Seoul, yet there will always be new people challenging him for the title. Bunch of idiots filling up his bank account in attempt to steal his glory, he's grateful for them, in this regard.

His lips stretch into a cynical smile as he looks at his opponent on the ground, the money presented to him made him let out a piercing laugh, everyone thinks he's mad, but there's still people betting for his victory whenever he turns up for a fight, people would do anything against their principles for a little more money, but yet again, what principles would the people who come here to watch people getting beaten up have, betting on him yet they have disgusted expressions on their face, whispering about his mad aggression only a few feet away. Everyone is feared by him, yet they would do anything for a few extra pennies, let principles be damned. To Jaehyun, only one person is better than those lot, the girl with the platinum blonde hair who's always betting so much money on him, but doesn't collect her earnings. He could only pick up a few details of her before the hordes of people rush to collect their winnings of the night from the handlers Johnny and Lucas. The way she always wore the same black leather jacket and black baseball cap, her hand came up to adjust her cap, her wrist glinting, was it a Rolex or a Jaeger Lecoultre? It had minimal diamonds and a classic face. Classic, that's what he thinks of her as. She likes the fancy things that aren't over the top, yet that's also the way Jaehyun describes his black themed closet. Johnny, one of the handlers, approaches him. He once asked them who she was, but the only info they gave was that she was constantly betting on him with a large sum. Jaehyun had tried to follow her multiple times, but no matter how quick he collects his earnings, she would be gone by the time he’s out.

"Do you want me to convert it to a check for you?" Johnny asked, lifting up the bag to get Jaehyun’s attention.

It was a standard after fight procedure, to have a feel at the notes in your hands, and maybe a whiff of the scent of wealth before changing it to a check, nobody would be dumb enough to walk out of here with a bag full of cash. Jaehyun passes him back the bag of money to Johnny as he heads to shower off, his thoughts filled with that mysterious girl. Hopping onto his bike before taking off for the night, leaving behind his alter persona, Mr. J, his stage name, feared by all and defeated by none.

When he reached home, there she was again, Y/N, his little step sister, sitting in front of her laptop in her oversized sweater, her bedroom door slightly ajar, allowing him a clear view of her. She's always up late working for this small programming firm, diligent and filial as always, the family's little pride of joy, he wasn't jealous, in fact he admires her tolerance towards this perfect family. It might not seem perfect to others, since their parents were both divorcees before, but it was perfect enough for him to feel like a black sheep. He hasn't felt this way towards his family before, until that incident. He pushes his thoughts away as he utters a goodnight to her. Y/N returns one to him, her soft voice calming his nerves, but that is all she says, she never asks about how he's always back so late, or how he's covered in cuts and bruises, a little more than from the time when he left the house earlier. Jaehyun retreats to his room, crashing onto his bed for a well earned night’s sleep.

It's Chuseok dinner tonight, the whole family is having dinner together, something which Jaehyun wouldn't have chose to sit through if it wasn't his mom's nagging outside his bedroom door the whole afternoon. His mom is currently asking about your job again, you didn't like talking about your achievements at work, from the way you looked down whenever she complimented you, you've grown to be so shy after he left for the states. He finds you so endearing, and not in a brotherly manner either. He knew it was wrong, but the pull you had over him clouds the remaining morals he possesses. It was only when his mom shouted at him made his chain of unholy thoughts snap.

“And when are you going to get a job, Jaehyun? Two months you've been back and your still on your 'break'. Look how hardworking Y/N is, and she actually listens to us," his mother said as he glared at him, arms folded as if she’s actually expecting a clear answer from him.

He's only asking for one dinner from his mom to not compare you to him, and here she goes taking a jab at him once again.

"When I'm ready mom, I already told you, the states were a drain for me, I just want to relax and ease back into my life here before I get a job."

His mom was going to scold him from the looks of her open stretched mouth, before she was interrupted by his stepdad, a hand laid on top of her shoulder to stop her from lashing out on her son.

“If you needed time to recover from his dad, he will too. Let him have some time to sort out his feelings. The kid's seen enough for you not to shout at him for reacting normally," Jaehyun’s stepfather said in an assuring tone in hopes to calm his wife down before this dinner turns sour like the ones before.

His mom's gaze instantly softens as she has a memory jog of what she had been through before meeting his stepdad, those were hard times for her, leaving that bastard with young Jaehyun to start a clean slate. Yet the court cruelly allowed his father to have co custody over him, and as per his father's request to have him from the age of 13 to 18, then making him stay for university as well, thinking back, he should've just left even though his ass of a father agreed to pay for everything.

Jaehyun silently goes back to eating his dinner, his interest peeking up as he caught you looking at him silently with an unreadable expression. Was it worry? Curiosity? He had a desire to know, to understand the thoughts swimming through your head at this very moment. He held your gaze for a few seconds before you stopped, and much to Jaehyun’s relief, his stepdad had switched the topic before his mom could pin anything on him further, telling everyone about a class clown in his class he teaches.

It was 2 am and Jaehyun was laying in bed, music playing softly as he scrolled through the news on his phone, but his music session was interrupted by a sound coming from the hallway, he had his earphones on, but the break between songs gave him a chance to focus and catch the shadow of a frilly dress rush by the crack of his door, it could only be one person, Y/N, who owned dresses like this. Soon, the familiar tune of their front door opening rang. He silently follows you out, slipping out of the door before it shuts, he sees you waiting at the lift lobby of their floor, eyes looking around in worry. The lift arrives quickly at this odd hour, he rushes in right after you, his body immediately caging yours against the wall of the lift, making your eyes open as wide as saucers, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Where do you think you're going at such an hour baby sister?" Jaehyun asked in a menacing tone, the familiar one sided smirk gracing his face.

Jaehyun could see the fear in your eyes as you momentarily froze at such a close distance.

“And I thought you were our family's little angel, never involved in anything deemed shameful, yet here you are, caught sneaking out by your brother. What a pity." Jaehyun said before he tutted at you, a coy expression on his face.

Jaehyun leans back to the other side of the lift, his eyes scanning you up and down, taking in your pretty legs and adorable lips that were set in a slight pout.

“Let me come with, I want to see what my baby sister does for real fun. Is it a boy? A girl? Or both?" Jaehyun needs to know what the family’s precious pearl is hiding.

The way you shook your head as your eyes were avoiding his made the beast inside him threatening to break free. He tugs you over into his embrace with the ribbon from the bow of your dress. His chest rumbling in joy as he felt the curves of your body, and the way your eyes looked into his in awe before looking away from his intense gaze. His arms wrap around your waist, head placed on top of yours.

“I came out in a rush and forgot my jacket, you're fine with lending some warmth to your dear brother who's only in his pajama shirt, right? Like the good girl you are?" Jaehyun’s voice laced with a sweetness that could make any lady drop on their knees for him, and he knows it, just like being in the ring, toying with emotions is a game he aces at as well.

Jaehyun didn't receive an answer, just a shy little nod as permission, your eyes avoiding his trained gaze on you. He finds you so, so adorable now, but his thoughts linger somewhere darker, his need to corrupt you evident in his lustful eyes, pupils blown wide and dark, his hand holding onto your waist in a possessive manner.

Jaehyun could see the way you swallowed down your nervousness, fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you stared down onto your baby pink ballet flats. When the doors of the lift open to the ground level of the condominium, Jaehyun slings an arm over your shoulder and guided you out of the building.

"Where are you taking us, my dear baby sister?" Jaehyun asked in a hushed tone by your ear, stopping you in your tracks for a second as he let you lead him.

Jaehyun could see the way you shivered after he spoke into your ear, he adores how responsive you are to him, and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"J-just around the block," you stuttered.

Jaehyun wasn't expecting to see anyone or anything that would surprise him, you're most probably meeting your boyfriend or at most the wildest he would give you is directing him to the night club located a few blocks down the road. What he doesn't expect is to find you crouching down suddenly to feed some stray dogs at the alley in between your condo and the convenience store.

“This is what you do for fun, little sister? Feeding dogs?" Jaehyun deadpanned.

"Dad says I can't have any, and they lost their mother to a car accident a month ago, I just want to help them," you said as you reached into the pockets of your dress for more doggy sticks, looking even tinier than you did before, somewhat childlike to Jaehyun, given how pure of an action this is.

Jaehyun didn't know what came over him, but he crouched down next to you and asked for their names.

"The sister is Bella, the brother is Toto," you said before focusing back on your furry friends.

When the two of you were done, Jaehyun took your hand in his and dragged you to the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" you asked as you tried to keep up with Jaehyun, not used to walking at such a speed in your ballet flats, trying your best to not let them slip from your feet.

“You successfully snuck out of house and you're not going somewhere at least a mile away? The night is still young, Y/N. Let's go get ourselves a mini adventure," Jaehyun persuaded, his tone was rather cheerful, which would be foreign to you, given that Jaehyun mostly kept to himself at all times.

Jaehyun led you to his bike, his hands helping you up front and securing a helmet on top of your head. Your eyes saw the reflection of Jaehyun without a helmet on the rearview mirror, the one he gave you must've been his.

"What about you then?" you asked after you swiveled your head to check if he had somehow found another helmet.

“There aren't many cars at this time, and I trust my own skills. Don't worry, it's just a quick drive close by," Jaehyun reassured you as he started the engine of his bike.

When Jaehyun pressed on the accelerator, you weren't prepared for the jerk and lurched back, which is why he put you in front of him, other than the fact that he likes the feeling of your body against his of course. Jaehyun loves the feeling of being on the bike, the way the wind pierces his skin and the speed gives him the adrenaline kick just like his fights, but instead of being caged in a ring, he feels free.

The journey came to a halt when the two of you reached someone's house, a large landed property, which was a sign of wealth in a city like Seoul, Jaehyun guided you into the back door that leads to the big pool, all the lights in the house were off.

"Jaehyun, are you sure we're allowed here?" you asked in a worried tone as your eyes scan around for a presence.

"Chill, baby sis. This is my friend's place, he's okay with me coming here all the time," Jaehyun said as he lightly pushed your back, guiding you further into the estate.

Jaehyun started stripping right in front of you when he halted by the pool, which caused you turn around as an immediate response. Jaehyun let out a laugh at how you reacted, knowing that you’d be just like how he expected, shy and innocent.

“I still have clothes on, baby sister. Don't worry," Jaehyun chirped behind you.

Jaehyun was leaning against the rail, waiting for you to turn around, and when you did, albeit slowly, just in case, you immediately turned back.

"You said you had clothes on!" and he did, but only his underwear.

“I said some, and I'm not naked. Why are you making such a big deal?" Jaehyun teased.

Jaehyun saunters over to you, hands on your waist, pulling the bow free from your dress, then he leans down to your ear.

"Why don't we take a swim, little one?" Jaehyun asked in a hushed but persuasive tone.

Jaehyun then steps away to give you space and heads into the pool, your eyes wide like you're under his spell, silently pulling down your dress to reveal a simple pastel pink cotton set. Jaehyun loves how innocent you look, the swell of your curves just nice, your smooth baby like skin makes you look even younger than you are, Jaehyun stopped swimming to admire you from front to back as you joined him in the water, but not before testing the temperature of it with your feet first.

The two of you were genuinely swimming for the first fifteen minutes, until Jaehyun took a break to admire your figure swimming freely, he could see how you've relaxed a bit since the two of you had first gotten here. When you reached the end of the pool to take a breather, Jaehyun used quick strokes to get to you, stopping a mere millimeters away from your face, hands on the either side of you, leaning his weight onto the pool, his head cocked to side in great interest.

"You look beautiful."

Jaehyun has never said that to his flings, but he'll make an exception for his dear little sister, you did tolerate his annoying antics as a child. Jaehyun leans towards your face, his lips dangerously close.

"Jaehyun... We shouldn't, we're siblings," you protested weakly.

“Step siblings. We aren't related by blood, remember that, Y/N. I know you want me as much as I want you. I'm not blind, I've seen the way your eyes lingered when I walked around the house without a shirt after my shower, I've seen the way you reacted for the past hour towards my advances. Let yourself go, Y/N, do what you want for a change," there it was again, Jaehyun and his silver tongue.

Jaehyun suppressed the rumble in his chest when he felt your hesitant lips on his, the peach flavored lip balm igniting his taste buds, craving to taste more of you, his arms tracing your back towards your butt, giving it a light spank, a moan finally slipping out of your lips, breaking the heated session between the two of you.

"You like that, baby? You like how rough I treat you?" Jaehyun questioned, but it sounded more like a statement.

Jaehyun lifts you up from the pool and onto the edge as he opens up your thighs for him, sucking and biting onto the insides of your upper thighs, dangerously close to his destination. You had tangled your fingers into Jaehyun's wet hair, pulling at it when he spanked you again, your whines of his name driving him crazy. 

Suddenly, someone who sounded like he was in his late forties, came out and shouted at the two of you for trespassing. Jaehyun quickly lifts himself up from the pool and carries you over his shoulder as he picks up all of your discarded clothes and quickly drives away. He could feel you shuddering from the cold after a while, and stops his bike to allow the two of you to get dressed, grateful that they weren’t any cars on the road at this time.

"Jaehyun! You said it belonged to your friend's!" you nagged as you tried to sound as mad as anyone half dressed and embarrassed could be.

“If I didn't say that, you wouldn't have gone in. Plus, I did it many times before without getting caught. This proves how loud you were, baby," Jaehyun teased, but it clearly was the truth. 

Jaehyun made you shut your mouth in an instant after he mentioned how loud you were for him. It egged on his ego to see how shy you are now, just because he mentioned what happened minutes prior. Jaehyun lifted you up his bike once again to head back home, but not before giving your neck a kiss, he could see the way you were more relaxed after his little affection. He was going to have fun corrupting a sweet innocent girl like you, mind games are his favourite pass time.

When the two of you got back, both of you retreated into your respective rooms after saying goodnight. You and Jaehyun acted as if nothing happened the next day, Jaehyun going to the gym for most of the day, and you staying locked in your room. 

It was only two nights later, after Jaehyun's next fight when the two of you were alone, Jaehyun got back from the fight with cuts on his arms, his opponent had worn old leather gloves that scratched him up and he wonders if the tears in the gloves were purposely used to hurt people, he could've called a time out, but he wasn't a pussy. He was running the scratches under cold water in the kitchen sink when he accidentally cursed aloud at the pain. That's when he heard footsteps coming out, fearing it to be his mom, he quickly closed the tap and dashed under the kitchen island. The footsteps were getting nearer, but instead of his mom's normal house slippers, ones decorated with bunny ears came into his view, followed by your head.

“The whole house could hear you, thank goodness they're fast asleep. Come out. I'll patch you up," you called out in a hushed tone before reaching a hand out to help him up.

Jaehyun followed you into your room, greeted by the desk lamp illuminating your closed laptop and the book shelf next to the desk, while the fairy lights casted a warm glow over your lilac sheets decorated with many cute plushies. That’s when he realised that he's never been into your room.

"Sit anywhere you like."

Jaehyun took a seat on your bed as you dug through your cabinets, coming out with bandages and ointment of all sorts. You took a seat on your study chair, wheeling to him, taking a closer look at his wounds. 

"Did a cat attack you or something?"

Jaehyun sees you wheel back by kicking your legs cutely, hurrying into the bathroom and coming back out with a washcloth. Jaehyun scratches the back of his neck, thinking of how to answer you. 

"I... 

"I know, I don't go to these places but I know of their existence," you replied in a rather mature tone, which was shocking for Jaehyun, since you constantly acted like a child half the time, but not in a bratty way, just filial. 

"Is that why you never asked me why I come home late at night with bruises?"

Jaehyun sees you nod as you started wiping his wounds gently, the blood going onto the clothe that will definitely leave stains.

"How are you going to explain the blood when you wash it?" Jaehyun questioned, worried that someone’s going to find out about his late night rendezvous. 

"Menstrual cycle," you answered, as if was the most obvious thing in the world, which made Jaehyun feel like an idiot at that moment.

The way you're patching up his wounds was pulling at Jaehyun's heartstrings the wrong way, Jaehyun doesn't want to fall for anyone, and certainly not for his step sister. Once you were done, you were looking at him with those innocent doe eyes, Jaehyun couldn't really tell what was up with his attraction towards you, was it purely sexual? Was it affection? He pushed those thoughts away when he pulled you by the waist, his lips capturing yours in a frantic matter as his hands make way to under your nightgown to hold onto the flesh of your thighs. The roughness of his palms sending shivers up your spine. Jaehyun took this as a good sign and started toying at the waistband of your panties. He breaks off the kiss to let his lips travel southwards, his teeth nibbling at your mounds, what surprised him was the lack of bra.

“What happened to being my good girl? Why aren't you wearing a bra? Are you tempting me on purpose? Hm?" Jaehyun said after bouncing you on his lap slightly.

“I was going to sleep. Didn't know you'll need help."

The way you answered so breathlessly when he continued his ministrations on you only urged him to act on his desires further. He reached a hand up to pinch at your nipple, but your hand accidentally slipped and held onto his arm instead of his hair, which made him wince due to the fresh wound, and the heated session between the two of you was immediately ceased.

"Jaehyun, are you alright? We can do this another time. You should let your wounds heal first," you said in a worried tone before checking his arm once more.

Jaehyun was cursing at himself, but nodded at your suggestion, not wanting to feel anymore pain after that fight. Jaehyun pecked your lips one last time before bidding you goodnight and carried you off his lap.

"See you tomorrow, baby."

Jaehyun looks at his opponent straight in the eye, he wasn't supposed to fight tonight, but there was an empty spot and he wanted to make up for the off day he took to heal from the scratch wounds, he doesn’t mind though, his hands had been itching to punch someone or something for the past few days now, just like a junkie hooked on drugs, he’s hooked onto the feeling of hurting someone. His opponent tonight was twice his size, but according to Lucas, nowhere near his standards, since the standard earnings for this match is relatively lower from the ones he tends to fight in.

Jaehyun didn't even have to manipulate his opponent into thinking he was on the weaker scale, he took him down like the countless sandbags he broke in the gym, big but definitely does zero damage. Once the match was over, he spotted that girl again, ushering her way out of the crowd. Instead of following the usual procedures of collecting his earnings, Jaehyun made his way out of the club.

"Jae! Your earnings!" Johnny shouted, making a mistake of calling name by his name, thank goodness people can’t differentiate between Jae and J.

Jaehyun couldn't bother about the money now, he had to know who she was. He followed the streak of blonde hair into a car park nearby, which was empty since office workers are long gone by now. She made her way to a sleek black BMW i8, not what he had expected, but certainly unique compared to the Mercedes he keeps seeing at Gangnam District. However, before he could approach her, a hooded figure was behind her, a pocket knife produced from his right pocket. Right when Jaehyun was about to shout a warning at her, a flash of movement happened.

She turned around and kicked him squarely in the chest, he wasn't buff, and from what Jaehyun heard, that was a straight kick to the heart, she must be professionally trained. The figure fell down with his hand clenching his heart, he had a surprised expression, which was quickly replaced by a scowl, he definitely wasn't expecting that. She then kicked the pocket knife far away, her body slid down expertly with her handbag out reached, the huge steel chain of her handbag wrapped around the figure's neck once she kneeled down onto one of his arms, a huge crack resonating from the action.

“What kind of fucking psycho bitch are you?! I just wanted some money!"

She didn't reply, instead she dragged his body to a nearby pillar which had the emergency button for dire situations like this, she lifted him up and hit his head against the button. Immediately, the whole car park's alarm was triggered and soon after some guards rushed to see what happened. Once she saw the guards coming, she released the chains and threw him on the grown, Jaehyun could see the obvious frown on her face, but not any other feature due to the baseball cap she was wearing.

"You messed with the wrong bitch," her voice was as cold as ice.

When she opened her car trunk to retrieve something, Jaehyun approached her with his hands held high, he doesn’t want to trigger her any further, nor wish to fight a lady, especially not her, even if it’s just self defence.

"Miss?" Jaehyun called to her uncertainly.

When she looked back with her head held higher to see who it was, Jaehyun was floored. How could this be? 

"Y/N? It was you all along? You're the girl with the blonde hair who always placed bets on me?" Jaehyun questioned, thinking that this must be some sort of big mistake.

You didn't know whether getting your latest Bottega Veneta ruined by some motherfucker was unluckier, or the fact that your step brother just found out about your secret, how could you not figure out it was his voice?

"Jaehyun, I... Let's talk, I'll take us somewhere," you said with uncertainty, but your eyes weren’t avoiding his strong gaze anymore, nothing like the little step sister he thought he once knew.

You didn't know what was Jaehyun thinking, other than the obvious disbelief on his face. The two of you were silent in the car ride, you didn't really know where to take him for a secluded and life altering conversation, other than the cliff which overlooks Seoul's skyline, you hope there aren't any couples here tonight.

"How long have you known about me going to Monster?"  Jaehyun asked when he could no longer stand the questioning in his head, piercing the silence.

"Since the first time," you said, which made Jaehyun’s head jerk in surprise, but quickly composed himself to quickly solve this puzzle of mysteries.

"How did you know?"

“There are some things that I can tell just from my observation and just a bit of help from social networking. Like how I know you take a girl home after every match then leave in the middle of the night coming home with a scent of cheap perfume lingering in the air," you didn’t know why you wanted to add the last part, maybe you were a bit tired of playing the cat and mouse game with him when he has so many people lining up for him.

“You're not that clean either, are you? How did the money come about? And what would your dad think about this? Or my mom who thinks you're the most precious daughter in the world? What if I slipped up and accidentally told them about this little roleplay you have going on here?" Jaehyun taunted, a natural reaction to how you had threw around his private matters in such a snide manner.

"You wouldn't, because I know the reason why you came back to America so abruptly," you replied in a calm and cool tone, suppressing your anger.

Jaehyun's face instantly paled at the mention of his past.

"What do you mean?" Jaehyun asked in a rather hollow voice.

“Jeong Jaehyun, birthname Jeong Yoonoh, was born in Seoul, South Korea on 14th of February 1997. Your father is Jeong Eunsan who divorced your mother and moved to Connecticut on his own, he's an alcoholic and drug addict, he filed for a lawsuit to have you in his custody for five years for education reasons after he came clean from alcohol and drugs, the United States High Court approved of his appeal. So you left Seoul in 2010 and moved in with your father. But he got back on alcohol and drugs didn't he? That's why the two of you fought."

"How did you know all this?!"Jaehyun rounded on you from the passenger seat, seemingly wanting to hit something or someone for the frustration he’s feeling, but held himself back when he remembers it’s you, and nonetheless, a girl, he doesn’t hit girls. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, nearly black as his voice dips a lower intonation, the sight dangerous to anyone but you.

"I did some digging of my own," you replied calmly.

"Who are you? Are you even the baby sister I knew when I was a kid? Or the girl I took out for a ride just a few days ago? Who are you and what do you want from me?! And how are you filthy rich?! What do you even do for a living?! I feel like my whole life's a lie!" Jaehyun spats out, feeling like the ground underneath him shifted drastically, on the edge of loosing his footing, just like how he could barely comprehend what’s happening now.

“I don't want anything from you, Jaehyun. Some lies are said because they're easier to accept than the truth," you answered, hoping that this will be a suffice explanation to him, but knowing Jaehyun, you doubt it.

"I can't believe you lied to me, to our family, after all this time?!"

“Like you weren't planning to mess with me, seducing your little step sister, eager to expose my identity to my dad. A kettle calling a pot black, don’t you think? Do you enjoy inflicting pain upon others and yourself so much that you'll hurt anyone in your grasp? Your mom, your dad, the girls you slept with and left alone with broken hearts the next day, aren't those people enough for you? You think you're the only one who knows how to toy with people's hearts here, Jaehyun? What I'm doing to you now, is just a taste of your own medicine. You think I'm still that little naive 7 year old girl you had play dates with? You were gone for so long, things happen, and people change, and so did you Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's heart sank as he heard your piercing words he didn't mean to leave you as a child or become the monster he is today he didn't mean for any of this to happen, yet you lied to him after all this time the money, the fight club, your whole personality or what he thought it was all just a front.

His fingernails dug crescents into his palm as he took in all this information. For the first time, in so long, he was the one who was manipulated. Jeong Jaehyun defeated in his own game.

'Who is Y/N really? The girl with the frilly dresses who has her cute round glasses on whenever she's on her computer? Or the girl who sneaked out late at night in her leather jacket with all the money she wanted in the world?' Jaehyun thought to himself.

“Just tell me, how are you this rich? Where do you get all this money?" Jaehyun asked, not letting you off the hook, if it’s what he wants, you’ll give, it’s his consequent if the answer scarres him for life.

“Do you know how I played you so well, Jae? Because it's my job, I put up fake fronts for other people's real identities to be hidden. And you'd be surprised by how many people require these services from me. You think I'm the cruel one here? Open your eyes, pretty boy, it's a cruel world, and if you're not even half as evil as it is, then you'll naturally be the ones that are being deceived on your little fabricated rainbow bridge. I know what you did Jaehyun, I did some digging before you came back from the states, mom and dad bougt your little front, but I didn't. I was shocked when I made the discovery, just to let you know, he was pronounced dead by impact to his head. You and I both know what that means."

Jaehyun couldn't believe what he was hearing, he thought he had successfully left his past behind him. Only to have you uncover his crimes like popping a lid of a beer bottle, his hands are shaking from the shock of hearing you speak of what went down after he left his father.

“How am I still here then? Why isn't anyone cuffing me back?" Jaehyun questioned aloud, his mind completely mushed after hearing about your true profession and the truth of his sudden return from the states.

“I was there that same day to make amends of your faults, I was curious of how you were doing there. Only to find out that you weren't the same person anymore. They were worried every single day, I just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you, little did I know my skills would be needed there instead," you weren’t holding a grunge for what he’s became today, but till this day, it’s still hard to accept the fact that he was a whole different person entirely now.

"You cleaned up the body?" Jaehyun prodded further, hoping that you weren’t one of those cleaners for crimes.

“Do I look like I'll get my hands dirty? I was living there for two months just to observe, and I found out that there would be loan sharks asking for money everyday, not the most believable lot, carrying huge sticks and sometimes even knives, no? They even had criminal records beforehand. So I hacked into the security system and did some movie magic. The video of you going home and leaving with bloody hands was deleted and replaced with the video of the loan sharks looking for your father from the day before. And so the court was convinced that they were the killers given that they had existing brutality offences. And that's how I got you off the hook," you explained, somewhat proud that you could pull something off without any preparations at that time.

“Why did you help me? In America, the money I earn now, it's all your doing. Why?" Jaehyun questioned.

You didn't really know why either, you helped him escape his crime in America because you took pity on him, after all, he was in your life for a short period of time. But you couldn't really put a finger on why you wanted to help him here, other than the fact you did get money from his fights, albeit not that decent of an amount compared to your other earnings.

“Because my dad loves you, he wouldn't want anything to happen to you. If he knew, it would kill him, and I do appreciate your mom being in my life, this is the most I can do for them. As for the bets, it's just as form of gambling and quick cash, nothing to it."

Jaehyun hummed, his mind in deep thought.

"So is anything going to change between the two of us?" Jaehyun was directing the question to you as much as to himself.

You fingered the tiffany on your wrist, ignoring his line of sight.

"Nothing is going to change, I'll continue to bet on your fights at night, then I'll be your little sister in the morning who stays out of your way," you finally looked up after replying his question, an unreadable smile on your lips that leaves Jaehyun curious.

"Deal," it’s not like there’s any other better way to access the situation.

"I'll drive you back to the club to retrieve your bike."

You decided to crash at Irene and Seulgi's for the night, not knowing how to comprehend what just happened. However, when you got there, a man you didn't recognize was sitting on the couch. You quickly pulled your gun from the back of your pants, pointing at the back of his head.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" You questioned in a cold steely voice that you used only in missions you once particapated in.

When the man turned back, a handsome face greeted you, his brow quirked up in a questioning manner.

"I should be asking you that, little girl."

“I'm no little girl, answer the goddamn question!" you were loosing your cool, scared that something happened to Irene and Seulgi.

"Y/N! Put the gun down, that's Irene's boyfriend!" Seulgi said as she came out of her bedroom, hands flailing, not knowing whether to grab your gun or stand in front of the man.

"Seulgi? You know this man? What do you mean Irene's boyfriend? Why haven't I ever met him? you asked, lowering your gun slightly.

"I go to the toilet for one minute and I see my baby pointing a gun at my boyfriend that she's not supposed to know, just fucking great," Irene said before plopping down the sofa next to her boyfriend, hands reached up to massage her temples.

"So he's not a threat?"

"Not to us, you can say," Seulgi chipped in.

“I'll do the talking Seulgi ah, don't interrupt. Y/N, this is Junmyeon my boyfriend of three years. And Junmyeon, this is Y/N, she's like a sister to me, so don't you dare hurt a single strand of her hair.”

“Wait a minute. Junmyeon, as in Kim Junmyeon, EXO Suho, Kim Enterprise CEO? Head of criminal syndicate EXO Suho?" You spewed out, bewildered that the man of many identities, and many of them dangerous, was sitting on this very couch that you’re too familiar with.

“That's why I didn't want to let you know. I didn't want to rope you into any danger, you're so young Y/N, you shouldn't be involved with anyone who has any relations with a mafia leader," Irene explained in a disappointed tone, her head looking down in shame.

"Irene rejected him a few times because of your safety, and also Yeri's, but since she's at London, she's much safer," Seulgi supplied, hoping that telling you this would decrease the chances of you having an outburst of emotions, you must be facing some difficulties if you’re here at this hour.

You sat down on the couch, trying to take in all the information that's being thrown at you for the past 15 minutes or so, your brain trying to connect the dots and piece a proper response to this.

“Y/N ah, why are you here tonight? And why is your favorite bag in shreds? Did someone attack you?!" Irene quickly takes your face into her hands, checking for any injuries, then checking your hands, gasping at the slight scratch.

"What happened?!"

“Someone wanted to rob me on the way back after I came out from your fight club. In other words he's probably suffering from a rib damage, skull damage, et cetera," you replied in a monotonous way, tired from all the events of late.

"I’ve taught you well," Seulgi said with a proud smile on her face, she was, after all the one who taught you her vast knowledge of martial arts.

"Thanks Seulgi," you said, thinking back to the time when you first joined them, but your thoughts were cut short when your eyes laid back on the man in front of you.

"Anyways, tell me a bit about yourself, Junmyeon, since we're going to be stuck with each other until end of time, unless you deicide to cross Irene, then I'll have to feed your head to the hounds," you added the last part in a threatening tone.

“Feisty just like her mom. I'm Junmyeon of Kim Enterprise, the oldest brother of the four Kim brothers. And I'm also EXO's Suho, Seoul's largest illegal weapons manufacturer," Suho rattled off the facts that everyone in Seoul knows, but this isn’t going to cut if for you.

“I know that already. I did my research when I helped Kim Jongin transfer his dirty funds to the offshore accounts I set up for him. Tell me how your family started EXO," you suggested, always had an interest to how such a large scale syndicate started off.

“My great grandfather was part of a Japanese weapons manufacturing base, he was a spy for the Korean government many decades ago. He left the mission after he had successfully acquired enough knowledge on how to make their weapons, along with establishing connections inside so that he'll always receive updates. When the war was going on, he reported everything to the Korean government, then the war ended and he started his own business since that was the only knowledge he held worthy of putting bread on the table, and so the business has been going on ever since. Since I told you my origins, tell me yours, that is only fair," Junmyeon prompted.

“I met Irene when I was 14. I had no friends then, other than Yeri who was a year older than me. Irene spotted us exchanging a perfume bottle of this bitch who bullied us into a bottle full of onion juice, since she liked spraying it onto her face obnoxiously. Yeri caused a distraction while I hid underneath the stands, exchanging the bottles. She saw everything and offered us a job in her greatest money heist, I stole a key card while Yeri made a fuss about wanting to see her mom who doesn't even work there. After we pulled that off, Irene and Seulgi took us in, Irene teaching me her digital hacking skills and Seulgi teaching me her martial arts skills everyday after school. Then I branched out on my own after acquiring a different set of skills I learned on the dark web."

"Let me guess, the off shore accounts?"

"Bingo. I wanted to be independent too, can't always depend on Irene, and it proved me right, since she's probably going to get married and stuff soon,” you said, eyeing him expectantly. 

"Hey, who said I was leaving you?" Irene complained, a hand slapping your head lightly before going back to your wounds.

"You'll have real babies to baby in the future, I'm excited," you said sincerely, knowing that a couple this good looking would have the most beautiful children in the world.

"To be off the hook?" Junmyeon quipped in.

"That as well," you said before bursting into laughter at Irene’s shocked expression.

"I can't believe my boyfriend and my baby is ganging up on me," Irene said in a huff.

"Seulgi's enjoying the show," you said after glancing at her gleeful expression.

"I live with this woman, I can't talk shit about her, so do please continue."

“I'm done patching you up Y/N, Seulgi prepare her room, she's gonna stay here tonight. And as for you mister, you better head home, don't keep your mom worried, I'll see you tomorrow,” Irene said before ushering a reluctant Junmyeon.

All of you said your goodbyes to Junmyeon, grateful that Irene knew you needed some time alone. You quickly washed up and changed into comfy pjs, Irene sitting on your bed waiting for you to talk. You crawled into bed, laying down your head onto her leg.

“I'll say it once, and I'll say it again. I'm really grateful for what you've given me, although illegal for most things, but I can't imagine life any other way. So please don't kill me because he found out."

"Who?! Jaehyun?!" Irene asked, immediately assuming the worst ‘he’ she could possibly think of.

"Yeah. He rushed out from the club, and followed me. He's not telling them anything, but we had a talk about his past and stuff."

"Was he shaken up?"

“He handled it as best as he could you can say, he's a fighter, not a killer. It's different to us compared to him," you guessed.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about the Junmyeon thing as well, I just wanted to keep you safe."

“It's fine. He's nice, for now. And I want you to be happy too," you said genuinely.

"Thank you. What about Jaehyun? What is he to you?" Irene asked, always had a hunch about your feelings.

"A friend."

"That's all?"

“I'm not going to fall for him when all he does is pick up girls after fights. What about the Kim brothers? Are they hot?" you asked, curious to see what else the family holds.

“Jongin's a player, but you already know that. Jongdae's married with a daughter, and Minseok is a mystery. But I don't want you marrying into a mafia family, Y/N. Don't make the mistakes I'm going to make, I want you to be safe," Irene lectured.

"I'm fine, I can protect myself perfectly well."

“I just want what's best for you. It's getting late, I'll make you a cup of tea in Bunny and Rabbit's take away cup tomorrow, okay? In case you get there after they wake up," Irene said, mindful of your parents.

You smiled at how thoughtful Irene is, always leaving her cafe's paper cups in her home as a decoy for you to use when you get back in the morning.

"Yeah. Goodnight mom."

“I'm your sister, Y/N ah, stop making me sound old. And Goodnight to you too."

“Here are two tickets for a cruise trip,” you said, handing the tickets to your dad.

Your dad’s eyes light up at your surprise, along with your step mother’s who stopped watching her latest drama, letting it run on the tv.

“What? How come?” Your dad asks as he reads the details of the tickets.

“My boss gave me a larger bonus this time around, so I decided to get you guys something, since dad would be off for summer holidays in a week’s time, it’s just in time to board the cruise,” you explained.

“Honey, you should spend your hard earned money on yourself.”

“It’s okay dad, I have enough money, don’t worry. I wanted to get you this, since you were so stressed about your students the other day. A change of scenery from the university would be good for you,” you said before taking a seat on the sofa across them.

“Y/N’s right, you deserve a holiday this summer. Thank you so much Y/N, you’ve always been such a good daughter to us,” your stepmom said, grateful that you never once shunned her off like most people she had read about would.

“No problem. It’s getting late, I’ll head to bed. Night dad, night mom,” you said before giving your dad a hug.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You got into your room and shut your door before texting Irene.

‘It worked, I can attend the gala with you.’

‘Great. Can’t wait to see you there.’

It was around 1 a.m., when someone interrupted you from your work by knocking lightly on your door. You got up to open it to reveal Jaehyun’s fluffy mob of hair poking into the small gap of your door.

“This is unexpected.”

“Can’t I come check in my little sister?” Jaehyun replied with a boyish smile.

“Right, very convincing,” you said, sarcasm evident.

You are skeptic of his motive, but nonetheless allowed him into your room before anyone comes into the hallway. Jaehyun laid down on your bed, his large frame taking up most of the space, so you opted sitting on your desk chair.

“What are you really here for?”

Jaehyun sat up from your bed, his dimples obvious because of his cheeky smile.

“My little sister truly knows me best, doesn’t she? I’ve been wondering why are you suddenly sending away your dad and my mom for two months straight?Definitely not because of some bonus you made up.”

“My step brother still knows me best, doesn’t he? There’s this gala hosted by Kim Industries, and my friend’s going, but she doesn’t know anyone there. Since I know some of the attendees, I volunteered to attend it with her,” you supplied, leaving out the part about Junmyeon.

“You’re going to a gala without a date?” Jaehyun asked like it was the most outrageous thing ever.

“I just thought of going alone,” just like back in junior high’s prom. 

“Can I come?”

“You like galas?” you were surprised to say the least.

“Just because I fight for a living, doesn’t mean I can’t do elegance,” Jaehyun said in a defensive tone, deeming your shocked expression somewhat offensive.

“Sure, just don’t get bored and beg to go home,” knowing how impatient he is.

“As long as you get me a suit,” Jaehyun said before crashing onto your bed, he had taken a liking to lying down onto your fluffy sheets.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he takes in your dress for tonight’s gala.

Jaehyun stared at you with awe in his eyes as he does a once over, not the ones that he usually does that make him look like a predator eyeing its prey, but a look filled with slight admiration and wonder that would’ve made your blush obvious if it weren’t for the artificial blush on your cheeks.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Dior suites you.”

“Thank you.”

You were wearing an A line Louis Vuitton skater dress with a belt of the same brand to highlight the curve of your waist. You were wearing your usual red lip gloss that Jaehyun first caught eye of. Heels and bag that matches Jaehyun’s suit, and last but not least, a diamond necklace from Van Cleef and Arpel’s adorning your collar.

“Why are you driving?” Jaehyun complained whilst getting into the passenger seat of your car.

“Because this is my car, and you drive like a reckless mad man on your bike,” you deadpanned as you revved the engine to life.

“Fine, fair enough,” Jaehyun said in a sulking tone.

Jaehyun wanted to give a go at your car, but obviously you cherish it like your own bone and flesh, given its price, making Jaehyun grumble in the passenger seat.

The venue of the gala was the Kim family’s holiday estate up on a cliff, the  location, based on your knowledge, costed a fortune that even you’ll have to save up from at least 20 jobs. You parked your car inside the estate’s huge underground parking space, next to cars that costed just as much, at least you don’t look like a fish among sharks here.

A servant guided you up to the center court of the estate, where everything is happening, a waiter immediately passing you and Jaehyun a flute of champagne.

“Do you always attend fancy parties?” Jaehyun asked as he takes in the scene.

“No, this is my first,” you said before taking a sip from the glass.

“Then how are you so calm?”

“I’ve been in enough life threatening situations that these parties don’t have an effect on me anymore,” you said as you scan the crowd for Irene.

“Sounds interesting, where do I sign up?”

“That adrenaline seeker inside you would kill you one day.”

“Can’t help it, I’m addicted to danger.”

“Y/N, you’re here,” Irene said after struggling through a crowd, Junmyeon following close by.

“Irene, Junmyeon. I know who are the best dressed couple tonight,” you said in awe at their matching dress and suit, looking like modern royalty.

“And you must be Jaehyun. I’m Irene, Y/N’s close friend. How nice to finally meet you,” Irene introduced herself before sticking a hand out for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Irene,” Jaehyun said as he shook her hand with a friendly smile.

“This is my boyfriend, Junmyeon,” Irene gestured at her beau.

The two men shook hands and gave each other polite smiles. Irene directed you and Jaehyun to your respective seats for dinner after Junmyeon excused himself to get ready for his speech. The three of you sat down at the table as dinner started. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, other than the applauses given to Junmyeon after his aspiring speech on how he would improve the company came to an end.

There were people at the table who questioned Irene of her background rather rudely but you didn’t take any drastic actions other than throwing back mildly sarcastic remarks because Irene kept a hand on your knee, squeezing your leg whenever you’re on the edge of crossing the line, with Junmyeon resisting to laugh at the such an amusing scene.

“You should’ve let Y/N continue, I love how she roasted Aunt Soohyun about her wig being bigger than her brain,” Junmyeon whispered.

“Junmyeon! Don’t encourage her.”

Jaehyun was mostly silent, until Junmyeon chatted him up about the recent football season. Jaehyun was surprisingly helpful, asking the waiter to refill your cup of water when you finished, reminding you that your lip gloss had faded  significantly after you finished your meal. He even helped you hold your hair back as you had dinner.

After dinner, all of the guest started socialising, walking and talking freely. At one point when Jaehyun left your side for the washroom, a handsome man made strides towards your direction.

“Y/N. It’s been a long time,” the blonde male said.

“Kun. How long has it been? Two three years?”

“I suppose so, and you still look at beautiful as ever.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself too,” complimenting him back.

Qian Kun, the CEO of WayV, a communications company in China and Korea, as well as some other hidden companies that not everyone knows about, the reason he contacted you the first place years, and one of the very few customers you slept with.

“What brings you here tonight?”

“I’m friends with Irene.”

“What a small world, isn’t it? Junmyeon and her look so well together, imagine their kids.”

Kun was pointing at Junmyeon and Irene who were dancing flawlessly in the middle of the ballroom.

“They’ll make the Kardashians cower in shame.”

“May I have a dance, Y/N?” Kun asked when the last song came to a stop.

“Lead the way, Kun,” how could you say no to a handsome face like him?

He took you hand in his and guided you to the dance floor. When you placed your hands on his shoulder, you could feel that he had gotten much more fitter these years, muscles flexing at every tiny movement. His eyes never left yours, other than the little flickers down to your lips when he thought you weren’t looking.

“I missed you Y/N.”

Next thing you knew, Kun was kissing you with those plump lips of his. The two of you had danced to the side of the room, Kun broke free from the kiss and led you to an empty hallway where you kissed him back immediately. Kun’s hands wandered freely over your figure, one of his hand going under your skirt, the slight squeeze on your inner thigh making you moan into the kiss. Just when his hand was reaching higher, someone pulled him off you.

“What?”

“Who the fuck are you and why are you touching her?!”

Kun scowled at the sight of Jaehyun, laughing at his angry face.

“When did you get yourself this boy toy Y/N? I would be a much better candidate for you tonight, Y/N.”

“Get away from us!” Jaehyun hollers, his anger getting out of hand.

“My apologies, I didn’t know she was taken.”

Kun walked away, leaving you with a livid Jaehyun.

“What were you thinking Y/N?! Letting a stranger touch you like that!”

“Stop shouting! He’s not a stranger, he’s someone I used to know and it’s none of your business to care!”

You stormed out of the estate, heading to the garden which led to the edge of the cliff, the sight of the beautiful sky calming your nerves immediately. You heard footsteps following you, no doubt it was Jaehyun, wanting to shout in your ear furthermore.

“Y/N!”

“I don’t want to see you, Jae. Go back inside,” you said as you let your legs take you further out into the open.

But Jaehyun and his damned long legs caught up with you in no time, he held onto one of your arms, tugging you back to look at him. When your eyes landed on his apologetic face, your heartstrings tugged lightly against the anger in your mind, but you remained your cold composure, eyes narrowing at him.

“What was that huh, Jaehyun? You think you really are my brother or boyfriend? That you can boss me around as you please? What makes you think you can stop me from touching other men when you sleep with every other girl after each match? Why can’t I do the same thing as you? Say something! You have nothing to offer? What are you? Five? Cat caught your tongue so easily? Fuck you, Jeong Jaehyun, you don’t even have the guts to admit your feelings.”

You tugged your arm out of his grip, walking as quickly as you can to the edge of the cliff, taking off your heels. When you started walking to the end slowly, you were pulled back by Jaehyun, the two of you falling onto the soft grass.

“I admit it! I admit it! I love you, okay? Just don’t fucking jump off the cliff. What were you thinking?”

You sat up from his embrace, the cold of the night grazing your exposed skin immediately, the tears in the corner of his eyes caught you by surprise.

“You mean it?” You questioned, shock that he’d be so honest about his feelings so suddenly.

“Of course I mean it. God, you gave me a heart attack.”

Jaehyun pulled you into his arms once again, his head on your shoulder, his nose rubbing the curve of your neck as his hands hold you tight, not wanting you to leave.

“You’re addicted to the adrenaline rush and inflicting pain, just thought this combination would make you own up to your own feelings.”

“You planned this?! What if I didn’t stop you?!”

“I had faith in you.”

“You’re crazy. What did I do in my previous life to end up with a mad woman like you? And what do you mean I’m addicted to inflicting pain? I mean to some degree for adrenaline rush, but pain?” Jaehyun questioned acting out shockingly, hoping that his denial may be able to mask this issue of his, or more accurately put by you, one out of two of his addictions.

“Just admit it, no one other than you fights with such madness, Mr J, I can see it in your eyes after every one of your victories,” you rounded on him, eyes narrowing at his, purposely using his stage name instead.

“Fine, I might be addicted to the pain I receive as well as inflict on others physically, and maybe the girls I slept with, but that’s more of an after match celebratory thing and I wasn’t considerate of their feelings, but nonetheless, I never wanted to harm you, yes, I might have wanted to manipulate your innocence at first, but that was before I started having feelings for you, I meant it when I said I love you,” Jaehyun explained, pouring his whole heart out to you, his eyes silently pleading for your understanding.

“I guess I love you too, coward, now let’s get back inside, it’s getting too cold for my liking,” you said as you wore your heels.

“What do you mean you guess? Hey, wait up!” Jaehyun stared at your retreating figure, trying to decipher your words before jogging up to pester you further about it,

Although Jaehyun and you hadn’t spent that much time together, but the bond since you had as kids never really faded, things just felt like they fall into place whenever you’re with him, the beauty of the little pieces of emotions clicking together like an intricate puzzle, just like how his aggressiveness balances your cool and calm exterior.

Jaehyun and you have surprisingly got along well, he was more honest with you about his feelings and trauma towards his past. You suggested him to find professional help, but he didn’t want anyone suspecting him of killing his father and said that talking to you already helps a great deal. The two of you would talk about anything and everything on a Thursday night, a time where both of you would sit down and genuinely talk to each other over a bottle of wine as your parents still aren’t back from their trip yet.

“You can say anything you want, especially if there’s things going through your head. I don’t want you to bottle up your feelings anymore okay?”

“Okay,” Jaehyun said as he caressed the curve of your side gently as you leaned your body against his, his warmth seeping through even with the layers of clothing.

It hasn’t been an easy journey, being with Jaehyun, but all couples go through ups and downs together regardless, you didn’t care if it was relatively harder, with his anger management and trust issues, the happiness he has brought into your life has etched inside your heart like an anchor and its ship.

Jaehyun wanted you to stop bidding so much money on him after the two of you got together, but you didn’t want to stop, since this was the reason the two of you had bloom into lovers. You are a rather sentimental person towards particular milestones. The person you were years ago would’ve been in disbelief towards your change of attitude towards a relationship commitment. 

Every night, you’d go to bed wishing that these beautiful moments wouldn’t ever cease into nothingness.

Monster is rather crowded tonight, the underground fighting club is getting more and more popular among the young in Seoul, which makes pending background checks on the attendees before matches rather hard for the staff of Monster. The pending invites take around 2 months per person. But the amount of new faces and old faces alike never made Jaehyun nervous, in fact he could spot a few banners with his stage name, Mr J scrawled messily among the club goers.

Jaehyun used to fight with turmoil in his head as he uses fighting as a form of therapy for his past traumas, but ever since you helped  him through things, it has cleared his head of anger and finds it easier to focus on his opponents’ movements. Ever since then, he started calling you his lucky charm, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have made such a large improvement on his skills.

The fight began as usual with you watching him from a nearby balcony on the second floor. His opponent was a man who’s around his strength and height. Jaehyun although changed his way of thinking during a match, hasn’t changed one bit of his favourite tactic, manipulation.

Jaehyun took a painful hit on his stomach from his opponent. Although he told you he won’t take pain as a form of stress relief anymore, he still takes it like a champ in order to take down his opponent. Right when he feigns hurt, hugging his stomach slightly, his opponent chooses to use a wide swing as his grand finale, planning to finish Jaehyun off. But because of Jaehyun’s quick eye and experience, Jaehyun immediately lifts his right arm up to punch the joint of his opponent’s elbow forcefully bending it to an upwards angle that definitely hurts a lot, the crack of the bone being dislocated loud even amongst the crowds’ cheer. What Jaehyun didn’t expect was that his opponent took a swing at him with his other hand even through the midst of all the pain he experienced from his injury Jaehyun inflicted upon, bruising the corner of Jaehyun’s eye.

Jaehyun could feel anger boiling up his chest as he charges at his opponent like a bull, throwing hits all over his opponent’s head as well as stomach. At first his opponent tried to stand up, but gave up when he moved and felt the pain of his injuries digging into his flesh, hitting the floor of the ring five times to admit his defeat.

Jaehyun pulled himself up when he heard the bell rang, waking him up from his haze of anger. He looked up, hoping to see you smile because of his victory, yet you had disappeared.

There was a slight error with the cameras for the live stream of the match for fans online, so Lucas went to get you to fix it before the club loses any earnings just because of a slight malfunction, forcing you to leave Jaehyun’s fight. When you were done fixing them, the walk towards your spot of the ring was rather long, so the match ended before you reached there.

Jaehyun’s left eye started to swollen from the hit he received from his opponent, making everything look blurry if he concentrated his sight on the left. Just as he was about to leave the ring, a girl got up and kissed him. He immediately pushed her away when he realised it wasn’t you, although a similar shade of platinum blonde.

“Jaehyun! Did you miss me? That was such a great match. Wanna hang out at my place after this?” The perky blonde chick suggested in a rather annoying voice, immediately getting on Jaehyun’s nerves, like the throbbing in his eye isn’t giving him a bad headache already.

“Who are you? And why the fuck did you kiss me?” Jaehyun questioned, anger laced in his voice.

“I’m Brittany, we met here, and fucked at a night club downtown, remember? Why don’t we do just that now, you loved it the last time,” she praticcaly purred at him, ridiculous. 

“What the fuck?! Fuck off!”

When Jaehyun pushed the girl away, he could see you standing outside the ring, anger and disbelief written across your face. That’s when you took off right in front of him, running towards the exit faster than you’ve ever before.

“Jaehyun, who is she?!”

Jaehyun ignored the girl, and pushed past the masses of people, running into the carpark where you usually parked your car, but when he got there, you were already gone, only a familiar whiff of your perfume in the stale air left.

You were speeding way past the speed limit, but you didn’t care. Nothing matters when your heart feels like its been chewed and spat out like it was dirt. You didn’t cry, even though you want to. You can only hear the voices in your head taunting you for your foolishness.

‘You knew he was a player and still you fell for him.’

‘You should’ve seen it coming, just because you pour your heart out for him, doesn’t mean he’ll cherish it.’

‘You were just like him a few years ago, this is probably karma.’

You pulled into Irene and Seulgi’s place, a miracle that you arrived without a single crash. You were so glad that your parents’ cruise lasted until next month. You leant back into your seat, the stress and fatigue you felt for the past moments finally crashing onto you. That’s when you received a call from Jungwoo, the money launderer you worked with.

“Yo, Y/N. I got a job for you.”

You have to leave for Switzerland, where Jungwoo was based at and where you arrange off shore accounts. You had to meet with a client in Incheon to discuss the details of the deal before boarding your flight hours prior.

The client wasn’t a hard case, so you had time to kill before you need to board for your flight. So you typed out the details to Jungwoo in an encrypted message to speed things up when you got there, right when you’re done, it was time to board the plane. On the flight, you mostly slept and watched movies to pass time, trying to distract yourself from the constant ache in your heart that was starting to numb into emptiness. You remember a conversation you had with Jaehyun about Switzerland once. 

“I really like the snow capped mountains and green hills there. It’s beautiful all year round,” Jaehyun said as he watched the tv play out an episode of some show on Discovery.

“I can take you there if you want to, since I’m so familiar of the country from all the jobs,” you offered.

“I’d love that. Spending time with you in a cabin with a beautiful winter scene right outside our window sounds like heaven to me.”

You hate how your mind just instantly clicks everything back to Jaehyun, you scooted lower into your seat of the taxi to avoid the once beautiful scenery now scarred in your memory.

“What brings you here days earlier than you should? Family problems? Not likely. Boy problems?” Jungwoo egged on as he takes in your rather disheleved look.

You only sighed in response, you loved Jungwoo with all your life, but the events from these past days made your patience run on thin ice.

“Nothing, Woo.”

“Come on, tell me. You already talked to the client and I looked through the files, nothing needs to be amended, so we have plenty of time,” Jungwoo said as he pops in a chocolate truffle in his mouth, all ears for the latest take on your personal life.

He was patting the seat next to him on the sofa, you plopped down reluctantly, not expecting an ambush this soon from him as it was already 2 a.m. Switzerland time.

“Remember Jaehyun?”

“The hot step brother that had you chasing his tail and fixing his shit in the states?” Jungwoo asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes, that one.”

“What happened? Not another crime I hope, the only thing illegal he does now is fighting at Irene noona’s club. Unless?”

“No, it has nothing to do with the law.”

“Then?” Jungwoo has his attention trained now, he didn’t even bother to reach for another chocolate.

“We fell in love.”

“Thought so, but something happened recently, I suppose?”

“Yeah, I caught him kissing another girl after his match when I walked away to fix something, you know, like last time, when he would sleep with girls after every match.”

“Honey, Y/N. Not every fuckboy is ‘fixable’ no matter how much care and affection you shove up his ass. That’s just how men work,” he said with a click of his tongue, thinking back to the problems he had with men.

“You’re a man.”

“I’m gay, we think differently, and I’m out of my hoe phase. Doyoung is so adorable, you can meet him after we settle the accounts tomorrow.”

“Sure, Woo. I’m gonna head to bed, night,” you said before leaving to Jungwoo’s guest room, which is more of your third home now.

“Night.”

After you were done with the job and checked to make sure you received the fees, you decided to stay a few more days with Jungwoo, meeting his boyfriend as well as taking road trips to different parts of Switzerland all over again, trying to forget about the ache in your heart. It was a few days later at a resort where Jungwoo cornered you at the pub, since he didn’t want to say anything in front of Doyoung, and that man was rather clingy at times, which was a perfect match for Jungwoo

“You know you’re welcomed to spend time with me, but don’t you think you should talk to him? Instead of spending lonely nights drinking different cocktails in different hotels? Hell, you’re not even looking at those hot dudes that were checking you out, usually you’ll take one back for the night. What happened to the old Y/N?” Jungwoo questioned.

“I’m still me, Woo. I’m just not feeling it I guess,” sleeping around after a heartbreak was one of your known as one of your coping mechanisms to Jungwoo, but this heartbreak feels closer to home than the others, which was a given.

“You know, you didn’t even give a chance the poor boy to explain himself before you hopped on a plane and travelled oceans away. It might be a misunderstanding, you never know. Girls in that club can be really crazy, drugs and alcohol, that chick might have mistook your man for someone else. Go home, Y/N. Talk it out, and if he really did that on purpose, well I know a few assassins in Seoul.”

“I don’t want to kill him, Woo,” you deadpanned before downing another shot.

“Just kidding, but I’m serious, take the next flight home, since we’re this near to the nearest airport.”

“Fine, okay,” you sighed.

“Good, now last one, no more alcohol for you tonight,” Jungwoo holds his own shot high for yours to clink.

Once you landed in Incheon, it was around half past ten at night, the duty free shops were starting to shutter after you checked out. You booked a cab and left the airport. Before reaching home, you received a call from Lucas, which was odd, since you told them not to contact you unless it was an emergency.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, thank god you picked up. Where are you?”

“I just landed and I’m reaching home. Why are you calling me?” you asked, checking the time on your watch to predict what problems they’re facing.

“It’s Jaehyun, he’s drunk and he got himself into a match.”

“Why did you let him?!” you questioned in disbelief, a hand reaching up to ruffle your hair, a habit you had whenever you needed to think up of a solution quickly.

“Well, the people were protesting because we didn’t let him fight for a few days already, since he was drunk as well, but the people demanded for winnings from his matches, and I don’t think I can hold off the people’s demands. They won’t listen to me or Johnny, and Jaehyun is being an ass here, insisting on fighting no matter what,” Lucas said over the line, the voices of the audience in the background, it sounded very pack tonight.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you said before hanging up.

You cursed under your breath, telling the driver to speed up. If you needed to save his ass, you can’t do it with your real identity.

When you reached the fight club, you ran as fast as you could to the front, the people giving you space to move willingly. They weren’t sure who you were, but from the way you ordered Lucas and Johnny around, you must hold power over this club. As you neared the ring, you could hear a gruff voice shouting over the cheers of the audience.

“You’re gonna die, Mr. J! I waited for this day long enough, sweet, sweet revenge!”

Jaehyun was lying on the ground, movements shaky as he tried to scoot away from his opponent as he prepares to strike one last punch on Jaehyun’s head, without thinking twice, you jumped into the ring as fast as your legs could take you, you slid down and tripped Jaehyun’s opponent by sliding a kick as hard as you could on both his legs, making the large burly man fall onto his knees.

“How dare you stop me from my victory?!”

“This match is unfair! Mr J is drunk! Leave at once!” You ordered.

“I don’t care, no matter how much you pay me, I’m going to settle this once and for all! And a little girl like you isn’t going to stop me! I’ll fight you if I have to!” Jaehyun’s opponent threatened.

“Bring it on, motherfucker,” you said before putting on the gloves that Johnny had thrown on your side of the ring, mouthing the word sorry before getting back to the monitors.

Jaehyun’s opponent charged at you, like a bull that was tempted by the colour red, his eyes wild in frenzy after almost defeating Jaehyun. You jumped as high as you could, legs pointing at him like an arrow, striking him down like a target dummy, taking advantage of his crouched position when he charged at you. You started punching his face as you held him down with your legs, constricting his hands, but unfortunately for you, the amount of muscles he had on his abdomen enabled him to sit up and slam you onto the ground.

You hissed in pain as you felt the pressure of the way he threw you down from that height. You quickly rolled over when he wanted to land a punch on you, the only upside about your opponent being large was that he was slow as well. So you jumped onto his back, your thighs choking him as you landed punch after punch on his head. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it up if you didn’t finish him once and for all, so you placed all your weight onto him as well as tipping your figure downwards, forcing him to fall back forwards, you used all your strength by rising up your feet slightly before stomping onto his stomach, making him lose his balance, the fall made the pain in his stomach increase tenfold as you had him sandwiched underneath the force from your feet and the hard floor. The sound of something cracking underneath your feet loud as the audience had silence themselves to take in the extraordinary fight in front of them, it must’ve been his ribs.

The man underneath you coughed out blood along with the words of surrender and medic. Once the coast was clear, you rushed down the ring where Jaehyun was, he was unconcious.

“What’s wrong with him?” you asked the medic attending to him.

“We think he had too many punches on his head, it’s best you send him to the hospital immediately Ms Y/N.”

“Johnny! Take him to my car!”

“Right away.”

You checked your limbs and your eye sight, your legs were a bit shaky, and you were littered with bruises, but you didn’t care as you ran to where your car was parked a few blocks down, Jaehyun in Johnny’s arms. Johnny placed Jaehyun in the backseat once you opened the car doors.

“I’ll take it from here, take care of the situation at the club, don’t let things get out of hand.”

“Okay, you’re sure you can drive?” Johnny asked one last time, he knows you’ve been in worse situations, but he didn’t want to lose his boss.

“Yeah,” you said before closing your door, your limbs going into autopilot to get the car started.

You sped as fast as you could, shifting gears every once in a while to make it to the hospital in record speed. You didn’t stop until you reached the hospital’s emergency drop off.

“Help! He’s heavily injured, someone tried to rape me and he fought the guy, but the guy hurt his head a few times before he gave up,” you said in a frantic tone, making the lie seem even more believable. 

The nurse you were talking to quickly flagged down a team of medic, putting Jaehyun onto a stretcher and wheeling him into the hospital.

“Are you fine, miss? You look injured as well,” the nurse inquired when she took in some of your visible injuries.

“I’m fine, I need to park my car then I’ll get checked myself.”

“Very well.”

You quickly parked your car and retrieved your leather jacket from the trunk, not wanting to draw attention on yourself because of the bruises. You dashed to the reception desk, asking for Jaehyun’s whereabouts.

“He’s currently in Room 512 Level 3 receiving surgery, he’ll be out in 2 hours.”

“Thank you,” you breathed a sigh of relief.

“There you are! I’ll be tending to your wounds.”

Just your luck, the nurse from before cornered you once you turned back. Directing you to one of the emergency area.

“There are bruises all over your arms as well as behind your head, and these are the only ones I can see,” she said as she pressed gently onto the slight swell behind your head.

“I’m fine, miss, thank you so much,” you said as you sat up from the bed.

“Wait, at least let me check your eye sight. You might have damaged your brain from the injuries behind your head.”

You reluctantly sat back down, frustrated that you couldn’t be with Jaehyun. Once she was done, you rushed to the surgery room just as Jaehyun was being wheeled out.

“How is his condition, doctor?”

“He only had a gnash behind his head, fortunately missing his neck. He was unconscious mostly because of the hits he received on his head and the alcohol in his system. He should wake up tomorrow morning after the anaesthesia passes.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” you said before bowing to him.

“You’re welcome.”

You followed the nurses who wheeled him in, tucking him in the blankets, since he was always sensitive of the cold.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow. I promise,” you said as you squeezed his hand before leaving his room.

When you got back to Irene’s condo, a collective gasp rang out as you took off your leather jacket.

“When Johnny said it was bad, he wasn’t lying,” Seulgi said as she poured a glass of water for you.

“The guy I took down was second to Jaehyun in the club, I think I did okay. I always got bruises from our jobs anyways,” you said before crashing onto the sofa, the familiar ache ringing out in your senses.

“Maybe you got a bit rusty,” Seulgi said as she passed you the glass.

“No I didn’t.”

Right after you finished your sentence, Seulgi threw a knife at you. You avoided the knife by moving your head at a speed that you were very much used to after the many training sessions as well as missions.

“Not bad.”

“Seulgi! What did I say about impaling knives on our walls?!” Irene complained, eyes widening at your wounds, but let out a sigh of relief when she could smell the medicine on your skin, but continued eyeing your wounds with worried eyes.

“I was just testing her, I’ll fix it tomorrow, promise,” she replied with a cheeky smile, hoping that she wouldn’t get an earful from Irene by looking cute.

“Y/N ah, there’s something Johnny sent me after you left for Switzerland.”

Irene handed you her laptop, a CCTV footage of the club showing up. It was taken from the camera that was right on top of the ring that had 360 degrees angle, just in case anyone played unfairly.

The video showed the night of the match right where you walked out from, you could see yourself run out of the scene. Followed by Jaehyun pushing the girl off him and seemingly shouting at her before rushing out to look for you.

“I think he wasn’t cheating on you, Y/N ah, he didn’t seem too happy about the girl,” Irene suggested.

“I might have jumped to conclusions too soon,” you said solemnly, realising that you have mistaken Jaehyun because of his past.

You had unconciously began twirling at the necklace on your neck, something you did whenever you held much uncertainty, which Irene noticed.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, I would’ve freaked out if I were in your shoes as well,” Irene consoled.

“Yeah, I’m gonna head to bed, night,” more like lying on bed thinking about how you’re indirectly the cause of what happened tonight.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

Jaehyun was wincing when he opened his eyes, the white lights and the white ceiling blinding him temporarily. Where is he? When he tried sitting up, he could feel how sore his whole body was, what did he do after he got out of the pub? That’s when he felt it, your familiar touch and soothing voice.

“Hey... Take it easy.”

“Y/N? Y/N? You’re back,” he sat up abruptly to see if he was dreaming, but the pain that came with the rushed action was too painful to be just a gimmick in his head.

“I’m back.”

You were wearing your usual flowy dress again, delicate hands cutting up his favourite fruit, a peach. You had on the lilac scrunchie he had given you a few weeks after you guys were a couple, as well as the Bulgari ring he had gotten you after a month. You poured him a cup of water before feeding him little peach cubes, the necklace dangling on top of him, a familiar sight that comforts him.

“I’m sorry for taking off like that, I thought I wasn’t enough for you anymore and I just assumed the worst,” you said truthfully, knowing that he must’ve felt like shit when you were gone.

“I don’t blame you, I know my reputation isn’t the best, and only time will prove how much you mean to me, and I’m fine with that, I’m willing to wait for your trust, Y/N,” Jaehyun explained in a sincere tone, his way of forgiving you.

Jaehyun took your hand in his, his thumb tracing lines on your palm. His other hand cups your cheek, holding up your face to see you clearly for the first time in a while, that’s when he saw the slight bruise on your jaw.

“Y/N, what happened?” Jaehyun asked as he touched the bruise, wincing under the sudden pressure on your wound.

“You don’t remember what happened last night?”

“No. Did I hit you?!” Jaehyun said as his eyes were frantically scanning your whole body, only to find more bruises around your wrists, if he had done this, he’d hate himself for eternity. 

“You joined a match against King Laz, the guy who hates your guts. I just landed from Switzerland last night, then I received a call saying you were drunk but you were in a fight, so I rushed there only to find you lying on the ground. He was going to finish you off, so the only logical thing I could think off was to fight for you, since he didn’t want to leave without defeating someone,” you explained recounting last night’s events.

“You fought against him?! Are you mad?!” Jaehyun questions, eyes going over all your injuries, worried about how painful they look.

“Oh come on, Jae. I’m a trained fighter, that fight was nothing,” you said dismissively. 

“He’s a strong opponent, Y/N. No wonder you got so many bruises,” Jaehyun said as he hangs his head down, upset that you had to go through so much to save his sorry ass.

“It’s nothing, Jaehyun. It was just like every other mission I went through, nothing to be alarmed of. And these bruises are nothing, I get bruised easily. Don’t be so hung up over it, it’s already over, I kicked his butt and is now lying in bed with several broken ribs, so be quiet and eat your peach.”

“Several? Impressive. Thanks for the peach, baby, but I would much rather eat yours,” Jaehyun suggested, tongue in cheek with a playful smile gracing his lips.

“Sometimes I don’t know what I see in you,” you said as you popped another peach cube in his mouth.

“Shh... I know you love me, now give me a kiss for quick recovery,” Jaehyun said before his hand reaches for you.

“You’re such a dork, Jeong Jaehyun,” but you kissed him nonetheless, no matter if his lips were bruised or cut, you’ll always be there for him, for you are his cure to the monsters in his head, the poison and its cure.

[ginanosakka]

The War Has Begun

Masterlist

Mind of a Monster | Next

Katsuki had been quiet as a mouse since the meeting, and even as he handled the investigation and information he was being relayed by those part of the mission, he looked more in thought than exploding with anger at his current situation. Usually, he would be patrolling the streets, taking down any petty thug or idiotic villain that dared to cause a scene in his area, but he found himself patrolling for as long as many other heroes he knew that preferred to take this profession slow. It didn’t even matter to him that he was seeing icy-hot on the news more than him now when he sat in the living room with his son.

His son.

Those words felt so right now despite the fact that children were at the bottom of his list of things to deal with. Seeing that blonde boy with the same blown out ashy blonde hair as his, sharing the same eyes with that damn sparkle of the girl he was forever intertwined with, he felt nothing but pure satisfaction and peace. The same satisfaction and peace he believed he could only have by being the number one hero, which was the reason why he spent so much overtime as a hero to try and surpass Deku, and to never be lumped into the same category as Todoroki. When he thought of being number one now, he couldn’t find that same passion for it.

“You should feel honored that the future number one hero lets you talk to him.” Katsuki boasted, grinning like a maniac while you sat across from him at the mall food court.

“Being number one is a sham, you know. My dad said that all those heroes at the top do it for money and fame, with the only exception being All Might. I prefer heroes like Gang Orca, he’s super cool and he actually cares about the people he’s saving.” You mentioned casually, picking up another fry from your tray of food and chewing on it.

Katsuki simmered down enough to take in what you said, and felt the slight shade you threw at his goal. “What’s that supposed to mean?! You think I’m a bad hero or something?!” He shouted, and you shrugged while ignoring the stares that you two were getting.

“That isn’t my dream to pick at, but it’s not hard to see that Endeavor doesn’t save lives because he cares about people. . You said the reason you want to be a hero was to make a lot of money and show off that you were better than everyone else. Do you really think you’re an All Might and not an Endeavor?”

He stood up with his hair casting a shadow over his eyes, and before you could even say another word, he walked away from you. You stared after him in shock at such a negative reaction from the truth, but you knew that he wouldn’t take that well. It was the truth that he’d been facing since starting UA that he wasn’t like his classmates who all shared his goal, but you knew he didn’t understand what you truly meant. The heaviness of your words weighed Katsuki down as he walked away from, his insecurities that he’d hide from you shining through in that moment. You were right in that moment; Katsuki didn’t understand what you meant, but he can’t pretend like it didn’t hurt.

“Real heroes don’t care about being number one as long as they’re helping someone. . what a dumbass.” Katsuki mumbled the moral of your words as they hit him like a train wreck.

‘She’s always been that damn wise, huh?’ He thought as he turned away from watching the television with his son to you.

You sat not too far away from them on his recliner, your legs crossed and eyes intently focused on your phone as you typed away. All morning you had been like that when you weren’t talking or doing something with Ryu. The two of you had not moved forward since his apology, but there were no longer small acts of aggression towards him when you spoke, and in your constant teasing of his short temper, there was no longer any comments about the past riddled in your humor. Though that didn’t ease his mind about the unspoken rivalry that had sprung from your reappearance.

He refused to lose you again, and damn sure not to shitty hair.

Without warning, Katsuki stood up and stalked towards you. His sudden movements took your attention away from your emails with your assistant and you looked up at him as he towered over you, and you’d never admit that the butterflies in your stomach weren’t from fear. In a simple tank top and shorts standing above you was a man that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you’d much rather burn the image in the back of your mind and keep your hormones to yourself than embarrass yourself.

“We’re going out.” He said as if stating a fact, and in his mind, it very much was.

“. . . Who the fuck is we? Ryu, you didn’t hear me say that.” You blinked at Katsuki as if he had grown three heads, before looking to Ryu who’s attention had moved to the both of you when he heard the foul word fall from your mouth.

“When I burn stuff I’m bad, but you can say bad words,” you heard your five year old huff.

“I mean you and I,” Katsuki explained with slight irritation at you. “Pinky’s been bugging me anyway, so she can-“

You cut him off and turned your phone off, “there’s no need to call her. My assistant will watch him and I’ll babysit you.”

“Pain in my ass,” Katsuki mumbled just loud enough for you to hear as you stood up, and you smiled in return.

Being stuck in Katsuki’s house most of the time made you appreciate the outdoors more, and maybe a few weeks ago you’d complain about being in the park without Ryu, but it felt like a stilled moment in time now where you could pretend there was a sense of normalcy. You could pretend like you and Katsuki were just frenemies with complicated emotions, and he could take a breath from that world of constant ridicule and popularity contests. It was never spoken between you two, but it was clear that it wasn’t just you that was causing him to be stressed and consistently explosive; the hero community was wearing him down for a while now.

It only took finding out he had a child, rivaling the girl he lost, and having them both be targeted by her father, for him to realize being number one wasn’t that important.

“So, why did you want to take me to the park . without the child that loves the park?” You said with mild amusement, you two walking side by side in your hoodies and sweats to be at least slightly concealed in public.

Truthfully, in his moment of haste to get a leg up on his own friend, he hadn’t fully thought out an idea to get close to you. It wasn’t until he made it out of the apartment, after barely casting a glance at your assistant, Nanami, that you allowed into his home, that he realized this may not have been the smartest course of action. And he’d never admit that to you.

“You looked like you needed some time away, and I’m tired of looking at you working when you’re not even there.” He said gruffly, avoiding your face and doing his best to fight the small blush he could feel heat up his cheeks.

You chuckled lowly, “some things never change. . Speaking of that, how are things with Midoriya? I was surprised to hear that you didn’t full on murder him when he was announced the number one hero.” You said, giving him a sideways glance to gauge his reaction.

That was quite a blow to his ego. It took him a while to recover from losing to the boy he had looked down on his entire childhood, and then underestimated in his later years until he was forced to realize that Deku was his equal. What he lacked, Deku excelled, and there was nothing he could do about that other than to work harder. It took a long time for Katsuki to truly accept that there was something special about that nerd, and the world needed him.

“He’ll always be a loser to me. . but he’s a decent hero. I’d be a dumbass like the rest of you to kick his ass about it.” Katsuki said and looked you in the eyes, showing that he meant every word. “You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or care too damn much sometimes.”

You hummed with a smile creeping up on your face, “It’s a healthy balance of both. . I’m not ready

to overthink us right now when I can’t be completely open with you, or anyone else for that matter.” The smile that grew had withered near the end of your sentence, and you felt a flash of guilt in you for dragging him into a battle that had little to do with him. You dragged an entire army of heroes into this, and you couldn’t even guarantee they’d have their jobs. . without using them like pawns.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone. I don’t care how much you try to push me away, your shitty ass is stuck with me.” He said without missing a beat.

For a moment you smiled again, and Katsuki accepted the uncontrollable beating of his heart around you. Your bodies had inches closer during your walk, and though your hand never touched nor did your arms link, you felt close to another. It was possible that it was a toxic attachment neither of you should be so content within, neither of you wasted another breath to question it.

You both arrived back at the apartment a mere few hours later. Walking in public together in broad daylight wasn’t the safest idea at this time even in hoodies, so it wasn’t long before you both agreed to turn back. The sun was still shining outside when Katsuki opened the door, yet the eerie silence that welcomed him made a chill run down his spine and every alarm in his body went off at once.

His body reacted before his mind when he stalked towards the living room, then to the kitchen, and lastly to Ryu’s bedroom to find absolutely no one. There were things of Ryu’s missing — some clothes and toys that he took with him wherever he could. There were signs that a child had once been here still scattered around the house, but there wasn’t any sign that Nanami had ever been here.

Rage, fear, and sadness were running rampant in Bakugou’s mind as he frantically searched Ryu’s room for anything that would tell him where they went and that this was some misunderstanding. He was cursing himself for not taking a second look at that girl, and he cursed himself for leaving his only son with her when he knew nothing about her. Had he stopped and checked her out he might have been able to tell something was off — he might have been able to stop his son from going missing and be a good father like he should have.

His frantic thoughts stopped suddenly, along with his movements and time. He remembered who else was here and wasn’t making a sound while he tore the room apart. Who hadn’t made a single sound since leaving the park.

“Y/N.”

The way your name fell from his lips felt like venom being injected straight into your veins, but your face remained neural even as his manic eyes made contact with yours. You didn’t speak in fear that any response would cause him to spur completely out of control, and you knew that whatever response you gave him wouldn’t be good enough. This wasn’t a battle you’d win.

“Where. . Is he?” Katsuki asked slowly through gritted teeth.

“I think you need to-“ you attempted to reach out to him and de escalate this enough to explain, but he cut you off with more fury than a scorned man.

“Where is my son?!”

Before any answer could be given the front door was slammed opened with a deafening smack, sending you whirling around at the sudden action. Thundering footsteps came down the hall and before you could even let the anxiety consume you, men dressed in riot gear appeared in the doorway of the room with guns pointed in your direction. Your hands flew up automatically, and they wasted no time swarming you.

“Y/N L/N, you’re under arrest for conspiracy and premeditated murder.”

A/N: A missing mother, a missing son, and an arrest. What a wholesome story. Anyways, the angst never stops and the tables keep turning, LETS GET CRAZY!

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

[femboysai]

TINY HEARTS

✶ [bakugou katsuki] part 2 ✶

❀ katsuki gets hit with a quirk that ages him back into a child, and he takes a strange liking to you.

❀ no warnings, sfw, fluff    >part [1]        >part [3]      

[2]

when you return to kirishima’s apartment, katsuki drops whatever is in his hands to make a mad dash for you. kirishima has taught him your name, and he’s on your leg, gripping your pants as he looks up at you. you shuffle awkwardly with his weight, holding the grocery bags above your head, and every which way you move he’s quick to stumble after.

kirishima is lying sprawled out on his couch, face pale and exhausted. “m’never having kids, never having kids,” he mutters to himself like a mantra. you greet him and he just lifts his hand lazily before telling you to make use of whatever it is you need.

it’s a little after five, and you head straight for the kitchen. 

“were you good for kirishima, katsuki?” you place the groceries down and glance at him.

his response is delayed, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt— “yes.” 

and then the next half hour is spent with him watching you like a hawk. he sits up on the counter and observes as you wash your rice before cooking it; carefully chopping up ingredients for the dish you’re about to make; sifting through drawers to find what you need. you figure you should add the tiniest bit of spice for flavour, just enough for a kick— but lacking enough to not burn his tongue. 

katsuki is a smart kid, which makes sense considering how intelligent he really is. he’s learning as you go, toying with the all-might figurine between his fingertips, repeating your name again and again and again— asking you all the questions in the world. “what’s that?” and “can i taste?” or “wanna try.” 

you have your hair tied up, loose strands tucked behind your ears. fear almost flickers inside you when he takes a tiny fist full of your ponytail— you think he’s about to rock your shit and yank it out. but he doesn’t. he’s inspecting your hair carefully and then says; 

“you’re pretty.” 

you crouch down on your knees to give yourself some time to ease the urge to coddle him. if the katsuki you knew could be half as decent as his kid-self, you might seriously think he was a nice guy. 

“katsuki, are you tryna kill me?” you mutter. this must be some sort of ploy to soften you up before he starts aggravating you again. he shakes his head, vermillion trained in on your figure.

“when katsuki get big, wanna marry you.” there it is— the punchline that absolutely kicks you right in the gut. you peer up at him from your position on the floor, katsuki is swinging his legs back and forth, and you start to laugh. 

“you want to marry me?” you giggle behind your hand. he scowls, frowning at you for laughing at him.

“katsuki get way bigger than kirishima. take care of you.” 

you rise to your full height and run your hand over his small head, pressing a kiss to his hairline. you do it before you even register your own actions— “you’re so cute, katsuki!”

you expect him to shove you away, annoyed, but instead his two hands curl over where you kissed his head and he grins. “katsuki’ll grow up fast. don’t marry kirishima.”

you decide to humour him. he won’t be small for long anyway, but this is prime content to hoard over him when the quirk effects wear off. “i won’t marry kirishima,” you snicker. 

katsuki orders you to sit next to him at dinner, with kirishima on the complete opposite side of the table— two chairs away. kirishima’s face is crestfallen— why does he hate me? — and he sullenly eats the meal you cooked, quiet and blissful as the homemade meal touches his tastebuds. katsuki is insistent that kirishima’s not allowed the privilege to sit anywhere near you, and kirishima can’t argue with him long enough to win his case.

katsuki eats a lot and he eats it fast, the kid is sitting as close to you as possible, one hand on your leg. it doesn’t go unnoticed by kirishima who murmurs to you, “he likes you way too much. do you want to take him off my hands?”

and katsuki is the definition of kids who do any minor stunt and plead for your attention and appraisal— “watch this!” he pretends he’s beating up a villain, except he’s pounding his chubby little fists at kirishima’s side while kirishima is sitting on the couch. 

you’re nearly in tears as kirishima takes the beating with a sad smile. “where is the bakugou i know?” 

“shut up, villain!” you learn katsuki doesn’t like kirishima at all— since he somewhat resembles an antagonist to him. 

“hey, hey! look at katsuki!” he jumps off the couch, lands on his feet and puts his hands high up into the air. you can’t say anything except applaud, fuelling his ego. 

you settle him long enough to put a movie on and dim the lights. this time, you convince katsuki to let kirishima sit on the same couch as you and he huffs in agreement when you lift up the blanket draped over your legs so he can wiggle down beside you. the film starts to play, and katsuki’s eyes are glued to the screen. 

“thank you for this.” kirishima turns his head to speak quietly to you— fearful the little monster on your other side might lunge over and sock him in the nose for even talking to you. “i don’t know why he’s so stuck to you but seriously, you’ve helped me a lot. i almost locked him in a room.”

you giggle, facing him— “he might just be missing his mother. don’t worry, tomorrow is my day-off so i can come over again.” 

“please do.” 

on your side, you feel katsuki shift around. his little head pops up onto your shoulder and you can hear the agitation in his voice; “stop flirting.” the command is comedy— your lips seal immediately to hold in your amusement and you look at him. 

“we’re not flirting, katsuki—“

he points at kirishima. “katsuki got a kiss first.” kirishima blinks at him, unable to form a sentence.

“i kissed the top of his head,” you tell kirishima.

katsuki doesn’t care; he crawls onto your lap and situates himself there, leaning back so that his head rests just under your chin. you don’t move him, thinking it’s harmless. 

kirishima feels daggers on the side of his face and when glances at katsuki, the kid is smirking in triumph as if to say i’m sitting on her lap and you’re not, stay in your lane. and then he pulls the skin beneath his eye and sticks out his tongue— “bleghhh.”

“take him home, please,” kirishima pleads with you.

>part [1]       >part [3]