#right after I had a somewhat similar conversation with my girl last night

[namonaki-pharaoh]

Xavier being jealous of his alter ego. Yugi can definitely relate to this.

[laurellerual]

Ser Gendry

The topic of the day is: Gendry doesn't want to be a blacksmith for the rest of his life. Alright, now let's argue.

Eddard

In the first scene where we meet him, the blacksmith's apprentice has made a bull helmet, but:

"This is fine work. I would be pleased if you would let me buy it." The boy snatched it out of his hands. "It's not for sale." [...] "I made it for me," the boy said stubbornly.

Ned offers to give him a 'military' education, and his words sound somewhat prophetic.

"If the day ever comes when Gendry would rather wield a sword than forge one, send him to me. He has the look of a warrior. Until then, you have my thanks, Master Mott, and my promise. [...]”

Martin does not describe Gendry's reaction to these words, but it's important to notice that when Ned sees the helm it's "raw steel, unpolished but expertly shaped.". And than, in Arya's chapters Gendry does nothing but spend his time polishing it. (also "Robert was true steel").

Needle

We know that the helmet represents for Gendry much more than his career as a blacksmith, it's personal. Even Arya recognizes that it is as important to him as Needle is to her.

She adds two of the Mountain's men to her payer for the theft of Needle and the helmet, because they are more than objects, they are a part of their identity.

Arya watched and listened and polished her hates the way Gendry had once polished his horned helm.

Acorn Hall

The decision to join the Brotherhood Without Banners from Arya's POV seems sudden and almost unwarranted but it isn't. In fact, Gendry tried to talk about it with Arya well before, but she didn't understand it and he wasn't able to explain himself.

It's him who asks her to go to the forge and it's him who begins the conversation talking about war heroes: Thoros, Robert and the siege of Pike. At Acorn Hall Gendry puts down the blacksmith's tools.

Gendry hung the tongs back up and took down the heavy hammer. “Master Mott said it was time I made my first longsword. He gave me a sweet piece of steel, and I knew just how I wanted to shape the blade. Only Yoren came, and took me away for the Night’s Watch.”

So we find out that Gendry has never forged a single sword, and when he talks about his first sword he describes it in particular. He doesn't sounds like a blacksmith who takes charge of a customer's commission, he sounds like a boy who, after having made a coll helm all for himself, now dreams of having a sword to match it.

But Arya doesn't see where the conversation is going and she says:

 “You can still make swords if you want,” said Arya. “You can make them for my brother Robb when we get to Riverrun.” “Riverrun.” Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her. “You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”

He stops, puts down the last instrument too and repeats: “Riverrun.” and then he changes the subject.

The BWB

In the books, Gendry doesn't get a chance to explain his motivations to stay with Lord Beric to Arya like he does in the show, but I think they're similar.

The clue is the flaming sword. Gendry talks about it right in the Acorn Hall scene and insists on explaining that it's just a trick (done with wildfire and ruins the blade).

But then the two see Beric setting fire to his sword to fight the Hound. Arya asks if it's wildfire, but no! This time it's not just a trick, this time it's real. Something has changed.

The Hound's trial convinced him of the principles of brotherhood and convinced him of the existence of the red god. So:

"Arise Ser Gendry, knight of the hollow hill, and be welcome to our brotherhood."

Brienne

Now he is a knight! Unfortunately everything go super wrong: Arya is kidnapped, Beric dies, LSH, the brotherhood changes and Gendry finds himself carrying out his vow to protect the innocents at the Crossroads Inn by picking up his blacksmith hammer again. But that doesn't seem to have changed his resolve: he still wants to be a knight, he still wants to forge a sword for himself.

He took it for an insult. "I'm a knight. That sword will be mine own, once it's done." What would a knight be doing working at a smithy?

Harrenhal

Throughout all the books, the only time Gendry wants to be left alone to lead the simple life of a blacksmith is when he is a prisoner in Harrenal. But that doesn't represent his personality and his wishes for the future because Harrenal's all point is that it's doom and gloom and reduces even the proudest of wolves to a gray mouse that can't do anything but scrub the floors.

Dunk

I should add that Gendry was born in the capitol, so it is not at all improbable that he grew up hearing the stories of Dunk from Flea Bottom who became Ser Duncan the Tall, and that these could be at the origin of this desire for more.

In the end Gendry is more ambitious than he's given credit for.

When Arya saw the horns she knew it was Gendry

And if Arya isn't fully Arya without her sword, Gendry isn't fully Gendry without his horns. Looking for the quotes on A Search of Ice and Fire I realized that most of the time the helmet is mentioned it's called just 'horned' and not 'bull', coincidence? I don't think so :)

[missluckycharms]

You, Me and Harry make three. Part One.

Summary: Joey, Izzy and Harry are in a poly relationship. They're head over heels for one another and they can't seem to keep their hands off each another, even when they really need to.

Harry is the Harry Styles, the man who is known for being so open and lovable. He's nervous to let the world see his girls, what would his fans think If he was dating two girls at the same time? And they all shared the one bed and home? He doesn't want to know, he wants them all to himself.

This small story follows the three and their rendezvous together behind the scenes.

Masterlist.

Warnings: Switch!Harry, Mommy kink, slight Daddy kink, FxFxM threesome, fingering, oral sex f+m receiving, Male + Female penetrative sex, Female + Female sex, spanking, choking, hair pulling, sneaking around (?) masturbation and mentions of it, degradation kink, praise kink, dirty talking, anal play, biting, polyamorous relationship.

Warnings apply to both first and second part!

Word count: 3.6k words.

A/N: There will be a part two, keep your eyes out for it. I also envision the women with Blonde and Brown hair, but you can apply any hair colour you want to this scenario, I just wanted to give a description to people who find it hard to imagine people :)

—

Adrenaline.

It's rushing through Harry's veins as he finishes his last concert of his first ever world tour. His body covered in sweat from singing Kiwi and total of three times and his suit jacket is for a fact dripping from all the dancing he did, his body isn't exhausted, no, it's hyped up and he could go out and perform again if he could.

It's a bittersweet moment ending the tour he thinks, on one hand he has more time to himself, more time for friends and family but on the other hand he doesn't get to do what he loves every night for at least another year, which is perform for thousands of people.

The crew is cheering and slapping him on the back as he walks off, the band following him as they all congratulate one another on completing the whole tour. There's tears, tight hugs and even a champagne bottle popped by Mitch, for someone who seems emotionless he was the most emotional one amongst them all. He basically cried into his champagne flute.

Harry pulls himself away from the crew celebration after an hour or two, his phone buzzing in his back pocket non stop as he tried to converse and have a fair well party with his whole crew — he knew exactly who was texting him, and they won't be happy he isn't responding like he usually does.

His phone is filled with messages, some from Joey and some from Izzy and a few more in the group chat they all have together. Harry is scrolling through them all as he sits in the back of the car on the way to their hotel room. He lets out a shaky breath when he sees two photos — one of Izzy wearing a bright pink lingerie set, her dark hair all around her while Joey wears a dark cobalt blue set, her platinum blonde hair vibrant against the lace.

Izzy is laying down as Joey looks at the camera between her legs, the picture being from Izzy's perspective while the second photo is similar, but this time Izzy's panties are off and Joey's head is nuzzled into her pussy.

If anyone knew what Harry Styles was hiding behind the scenes they would be shocked, he's hiding two beautiful women who are in plain sight for all his fans to see, the pair helping out the crew and makeup department on tours while only the three of them know what they do behind closed doors. It's somewhat thrilling to have this secret, it's spurs them on more and even makes them act out and fuck one another in public places, such as Harry's dressing room or even his tour bus when all the rest of the band is asleep — they all seem to get off on their little dirty secret.

Harry never wanted to hide his girls, he feels guilty for doing so. But to protect them and himself from the hate and backlash they would get for this, he settled on keeping them himself only. Sure, there's times where they'd want to go to a restaurant, hold hands all together and feed one another dessert like couple do, but they have to settle on a professional looking dinner, each spread around the table with a large gap between them all as they try and keep their hands away from one another, cameras flashing outside and update accounts flashing the images labelling Harry to be at a business dinner.

It does take a toll on them, some nights they all cry together and hold one another when one of them has to leave and see family, they all aren't ready to tell their families so when one leaves it's like something is ripped from them, it's like they're missing a piece of themselves. Harry is the one who's away a lot, giving the media to calm down on the speculations that Harry is dating one of them — it's mainly always Joey because she's blonde and seen as "Harry's type" because of that, both of his girls are his type.

They take small vacations together, the three of them locked away in a villa in Italy or even in Spain, their own private space to lounge by the pool together or even show affection to one another more openly around the foreign country — but then cameras show up snd Harry is immediately hurrying the girls inside as he pays off the paparazzi to not leak the photos.

It's tiring, they're all exhausted from hiding, but it's what they have to do.

Harry chuckles darkly as he looks at the photos, his hand sliding down to palm himself through his suit pants as he types out a message with one hand, a lazy smile on his face as the driver doesn't suspect a thing.

Harry: told you both to wait, you know what happens when you disobey me, my girls.

It's not long after he sent the message that he's parked outside the hotel, the driver opening his door as a security guard walks out and helps Harry into the hotel under all the preying eyes of fans and paparazzis who seem to love blinding him every second with their flashes and asking him ridiculous personal questions that you wouldn't even ask someone who is on trial.

His security guard walks him as far as the elevator, Harry saying he can do the rest by himself — but in reality he didn't want anyone but him to hear the sweet little moans that are probably coming from his suite right now.

"Couldn't even wait two hours for Daddy, huh?" He says deeply walking into the room, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as the two girls both look at him on the bed, Izzy nearly passing out from pleasure as Joey smiles evilly from where she's sat between Izzy's legs.

Izzy makes grabby hands at Harry which he immediately melts at the sight, she's the more submissive one in the relationship, leaving Harry and Joey to be the more dominant ones, and when Harry is submissive it's usually Joey fucking Izzy before him as he watches.

"Feeling good pup?" He asks Izzy brushing a strand of her hair from her face, her eyes glazed over and mouth slight parted as Joey teases her, sucking and nipping at her clit as Harry rests beside them both.

"Yes Daddy" Izzy says softly, licking the thumb that Harry brushes over her bottom lip, he slowly pushes it into her mouth as she takes it in with a small whine and suckling noises are heard from her pretty mouth.

"That's a good girl. You enjoying yourself down there?" He asks Joey more sternly, she loves when he's stern with her, while Izzy loves it when he dotes on her.

"Mmh yeah, such a pretty tasting pussy" she teases him, keeping her eyes on his as she licks a big stripe up Izzy's centre, Harry's cock twitching in his pants at the sight as Izzy keeps sucking on his thumb.

"Hope you've had your fun puppies, because you both know how Daddy hates it when you disobey him" he says with a small laugh, the two girls looking at him as he removes himself from the bed, standing tall as he strips down to his boxers.

"C'mere my girls, wanna feel both of you suck my cock" he says palming himself as he watches Izzy cum on Joey's tongue before they both jump off the bed and into their knees.

"I'm only obeying because tonight is your night, prepare for you to lose all control tomorrow, Daddy" Joey says, Harry already knowing she means what she says as he smiles at her.

"I'll look forward to it Jo, darling" is all he says as he runs both of his hands through each of their hairs, one hand on Joey's head with her hair wrapped around his arm, as the other has Izzy's hair wrapped around it, guiding them both to his clothed cock.

"Take me out, go on, know you both missed Daddy's cock" he moans out when they both palm him through his underwear, their hands immediately pulling down his boxers as he kicks them off, standing tall as both girls look up at him innocently through their eyelashes.

They both flatten their tongues and run them up either side of his cock, Harry immediately tightening his grip on their hairs and throwing is head back a little as he grunts under his breathe at the feeling. They both suck the head of his cock, their tongues in each other's mouths a little as they dance along the slit collecting his pre cum as he nearly buckles under the feeling and view he has of his girls.

"That's it, suck Daddy's cock" he breaths out through moans, his eyes fighting to stay open so he can watch every move his girls make.

The room is filled with heavy grunts and moans, small whines and sucking sounds from them all, Harry throwing his head back as he curses loudly into the air, Joey and Izzy working on his cock fast and messily just how he likes it. He's nearly scent into a frenzy when Izzy focus's on his head and pumps the rest in her hand while Joey sucks his balls into her mouth, dribbling and moaning around them which vibrates through Harry's body sending shivers all over and erupting goosebumps on his skin.

"Need to fuck you both now, onto the bed" he says sternly, taking their heads away as they both whine and try to get back onto him. Gentle slaps to their cheeks cause both girls to scurry over onto the bed, kneeling down and watching as Harry rests onto the bed, back against the head board as he begins to stroke himself.

"Izzy, do you wanna ride Daddy first? Yeah?" He asks and he chuckles lighty when Izzy nods in excitement, crawling onto his lap as he welcomes her into his embrace.

"Joey, sit on my face, gonna eat that pretty cunt of yours while I fuck our darling little Izzy" Joey smiles darkly at this, both of them looking at Izzy who's smiling cheekily against Harry's chest, her petite frame lost in his broad one.

Harry lays completely on his back, Joey coming to sit down on his face, as Izzy teases herself with the head of his cock. Joey faces Izzy, their mouths immediately catching in a sloppy kiss as Harry helps Izzy slide himself into her. She doesn't move, she grinds down a little as Joey's tongue explores her mouth, her tattoo hand holding the petite girls face as Harry holds onto Joey's plush thighs, his face nearly being smothered but he loves it — he wants to be smothered by her thighs always.

"Look at you Izzy baby, taking me all, such a good girl for me" Harry says lowly, looking at Izzy from between Joey's legs as Izzy begins to move, Harry immediately grabbing Joey's thighs and sitting her flush onto his face, his nose resting on her tightest hole as his tongue flicks and sucks at her pussy.

"Ride Daddy's cock Iz, fuck yourself until you cum like a good girl" Joey whispers to Izzy, her hand holding the girl by the jaw as she speaks to her, their lips inches apart as Izzy falls apart on Harry, the feeling sending her into oblivion as she bounces harder and faster, erupting guttural moans from Harry.

"Is he making you feel good Jo?" Izzy asks, her voice a slight tremble as she moans loudly watching as Joey grinds herself down onto Harry's tongue with force.

"Yeah, but you're making him feel so much better baby, hear him? Hear him moan into my pussy because of the work you're doing?" Joey asks as Izzy smiles lazily at her, her words making her go faster and faster on Harry's cock which ends in him meeting her bounces with thrusts of his own.

"That's it, fuck her Daddy, fuck her so good" Joey moans out loudly, grabbing Izzy before she crashes down onto Harry, holding the girl in her arms as Harry fucks up into her with all his strength.

"Fuck, yes right there Daddy" Joey moans out, Harry fucking his tongue into her while he fucks Izzy hard, the two girls holding onto one another as Harry pleases them both.

It's not long before they both cum with screams of his name and a mixture of Daddy between them all, Joey being the loudest as Izzy is barely able to speak or keep her eyes open over how fucked she is.

"Feeling okay puppy?" Harry asks when Izzy is laid out on his chest, his cock slipped out of her as she comes down from her high, Joey beside him as they both cradle Izzy and help her calm down.

"M'okay, just tired Daddy" she slurs out, the two helping her lay down onto the bed, Joey laying beside her as Harry positions himself on top of a smiling Joey.

Izzy turns her head to watch the two, Harry immediately bending down to kiss her softly as Joey kisses Harry's jawline and runs her hands over his bare chest lightly, her fingers playing with his dangling necklaces as her legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind him.

"My two pretty girls, all fucked out" Harry whispers as Joey pushes her hips up to him, signalling she's ready as he pecks Izzy's face before pulling away and focusing back down on Joey.

"Eager little thing aren't you? Such a slut for Daddy" he says to her, their lips inches apart as Izzy gasps at his language, Joey smirking and enjoying every last word that drips from his mouth towards her.

"You're also a slut for me Daddy, don't lie" she fires back, Harry shaking his head as he lines himself up with her pussy.

"Right now, you're my little slut, take it all for me, yeah?" He says kissing her chest as he pushes himself in, her moans immediately filling the room as Izzy runs her fingers over the lace bralette on Joey's skin, her head right next hers as they both look up at Harry.

"Come on Daddy, fuck me like a whore" Joey whines out as Harry begins to pound into her harshly, his balls hitting her ass as she sets a fast pace that has Joey's eyes rolling into the back of her head.

"You're going to hard Daddy, gonna hurt Jo" Izzy says nearly crying, Harry immediately bringing a hand to her face and cradling it as the other cradles the back of Joey's pulling her hair lightly.

"She likes it hard baby, she likes Daddy to wreck her pussy and call her his little slut" he says softly and calmly to Izzy who pouts before pecking his lips.

"Harder Daddy, please" Joey moans out, Harry immediately thrusting faster and faster as he holds both of his girls in his arms, Joey's legs wrapped around him as Izzy pecks his bicep every now and then with small giggles.

"Yeah? Want it harder, does my little slut want it harder? Does she want me to fucking wreck her and make her unable to walk for days?" He asks sinisterly as Joey babbles and moans under him, her words slurred and her eyes leaking tears at the intense pleasure she's feeling.

"Wreck my pussy Daddy, fucking ruin me, yes!" She screams out when Harry hits her spot over and over again, Izzy's small fingers now rubbing circles over her clit as the two of them coax her towards an orgasm, which hits her hard and fast.

"C'mere, wanna kiss you both before I cum" he moans out, his hips slowly down as his two girls push their heads together so Harry can bend down and take both of their mouths at the same time, their tongues everywhere as they all moan and grab onto one another.

"Come on Daddy, cum for us" they both moan out, looking up as Harry kneels on the bed over the two of them, their hands on their boobs pushing them up as he strokes himself fast, his eyes rolling back and his body covered in sweat.

"Gonna look so pretty painted in my cum, my two pretty babies all fucked out beneath me" he moans out, their tongues out flat as he finally cums, spirts and ropes of his cum coat their chests and some splashes up onto their tongues as they swallow it greedily, their fingers rubbing through his cum painting them more as Harry watches in awe, completely spent.

"I love you both, so much" he says smiling at them, their faces glowing and their own smiles on their faces as they look at him like he's the best thing in their worlds — which he is.

"We love you too H, right Iz?" Joey asks Izzy who's trying to fight off sleep, her small nod and smile is enough for Harry as he coos over how cute she looks, her cheeks blushing at his complements as Joey kisses her face all over making her giggle out, Harry kissing Joey's as they all attack one another with kisses gently with laughs in between.

"Think it's time for a bath, huh?" Joey laughs out as Harry agrees, Izzy laughing also as they both lay next to one another covered in Harry's release.

"Don't move, I'll be back" Harry says, the pair of girls whistling and cheering him on as he runs to the bathroom butt ass naked, his laugh loud as he wets two wash cloths with warm water.

"Are you two ever gonna not laugh at my ass?" He asks kneeling over them again, one hand clutching a cloth and washing Izzy while the other washes Joey and gets rid of his cum from their skin.

"It's funny! It's so soft and squishy looking when it jiggles!" Izzy laughs out, Joey beside her nearly snorting as she laughs along, Harry laughing and shaking his head as he throws the cloths into a laundry bin.

"You have a cute butt Mr Styles" Joey says kissing his nose as he flops his body down onto them, one of their legs resting on his waist as he rests his head between their breasts, both of their fingers running through his hair.

"We can't stay like this" Joey is the first to speak up in a few minutes, sleep nearly taking over them all before she realises they need to clean up and get ready for bed — Izzy needs to do her skincare routine while Harry needs to drink his nightly cup of tea.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Come on, bath time" Harry groans, grabbing his boxers and sliding them back on to avoid anymore comments on his bare ass, the two girls avoid eye contact with him as they bite back their laughs looking at one another.

"I can hear you both laughing!"

"We aren't laughing!"

"Yes you are!"

"Nope!"

The three of them have been dating for almost a year now, everyday bringing something new but their love for one another grows by the second. Harry cherishes small moments with them, heck, he cherishes all moments with them. When they step outside together Harry addresses them as part of his crew to not raise any suspicion. But all he wants to do is scream at the top of his lungs that these two beautiful women are his girlfriends.

Just as Harry is filling the bath, adding Izzy's favourite bath bomb and setting out Joey's favourite body wash for her, a shout and a hard knocking is heard from behind the front door to the suite, causing the two girls laughs and conversation to stop.

They look at him as he holds up a finger to his lips, shushing them both as they nod watching as he heads for the door. He opens it slowly, only revealing his head. Jeff stands outside, his hand running through his hair as he jumps when Harry opens the door.

"There's fans outside, they won't leave until you come out. Please just walk out and show your face or something" Jeff says nearly passing out with anxiety, his hands shaking from how nervous he was being bombarded with the fans who are lined up outside the hotel at nearly midnight.

"Okay, I'll be down in a few" Harry sighs, knowing guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't see his fans, but he'll also feel guilty letting the girls bathe alone and be without him for awhile again.

"We heard, go down to them. We'll have a bath and you" Joey says walking over to Harry, Izzy beside her as they hold hands, Izzy shorter than the two as she looks at them softly. "Can bring us all up some wine when you're coming back up, sound good?" Joey finishes as Harry smiles looking at them both.

"Yes Ma'am's"

[phoenixyfriend]

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Eight)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Words: 5,416

Please comment and interact...it's what keeps this blog going

*********

When you arrived at the restaurant, you felt somewhat awkward when you saw Denise and her mother sit on the large table which had been set aside for you.

Most of Denise’s friends had already arrived and spread around the table and you were quick to sit down next to Denise as she had saved the seat for you.

‘You look fantastic Denise’ you complimented her as she was wearing a very nice and colourful dress.

‘And you look tired’ she joked before carrying on. ‘You had a good afternoon with Chris, I see’ she then said somewhat amused, referring to the university lecturer she thought you were meeting with that afternoon.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked quietly and she discreetly pointed to the small bruises on your neck which caught Amalie’s eyes as well.

‘Oh…uhm…yeah’ you barely managed to say just as Cillian and three more guests arrived, one of whom was Cillian’s brother Patrick and the other two were Denise’s cousin and his wife, both of whom were related to Denise’s mother.

Cillian sat down directly across from you and gave you a shy smile while Amalie was quick to change her seat, sliding next to Cillian and causing Denise to roll her eyes.

‘You look nice tonight Mr Murphy’ Amalie said and Cillian politely thanked her for her compliment while his brother, who sat down next to him as well, had a quiet chuckle.

‘So, tell me Y/N, what did you get up to other than the obvious’ Denise then asked quietly while Amalie was preoccupied flirting with Cillian.

‘Not much else’ you said shyly, unsure what else to say as your cheeks were blushing red and you glanced over towards Cillian who, occasionally, glanced back towards you.  

‘Oh my god…I need details’ she then said excitedly before she dragged you to the lady’s lavatory so that she could bombard you with questions.

***

‘Tell me everything’ she then demanded as she reapplied her lipstick and you stood in front of the mirror and applied some foundation over the little bruises on your neck.

‘There is nothing to tell Denise’ you said with some embarrassment.

‘So, you had sex for hours and there is nothing to tell…common Y/N’ she said somewhat disappointed just as Amalie entered the bathroom to see what you were doing.

‘Did you say hours? Aren’t you fucking sore now?’ Amalie asked somewhat amused and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘A little…but it was worth it. Now can we please return to the table and order dinner. I am starving’ you said but neither Denise nor Amalie had a bar of it.

‘Of course, you are starving. You had sex for hours which is incredible. Is he older? Because, the only guy I ever had extensive love making sessions with like this was already over thirty’ Amalie observed and you certainly didn’t want to answer this question.

‘I don’t kiss and tell guys…it’s nothing serious and…uhm…I just want to keep it myself, okay?’ you stammered but Denise demanded to know.

‘Oh, common Y/N. How old is he? I am your best friend and you need tell me’ Denise then said, causing you to bite your lips nervously.

‘She is embarrassed, so I guess early or mid-thirties’ Amalie then said and you shook your head nervously.

‘I am not embarrassed, I just don’t want to discuss my sex life in a restaurant lavatory’ you then said, but Denise and Amalie looked at you sternly, demanding an answer.

‘Alright! He is in his mid-forties. Now can we go back and order dinner?’ you then quickly admitted and both Amalie’s and Denise’s chins dropped.

‘Y/N that’s a huge age gap. I don’t think I could…’ Denise went on to say but got interrupted by Amalie pretty much immediately.

‘Well, I could if it was your dad’ Amalie laughed, causing you to gulp and Denise look at her in disgust.

‘Oh god Amalie, that’s so disgusting’ she said before agreeing to return to the table and order dinner. The last thing Denise wanted to talk about was Amalie’s desire for her father.

***

After you sat back down at the table, Cillian would glance over towards you occasionally again but, every time he did, Amalie tried quickly to catch his attention, asking him the weirdest kind of questions much to the amusements of Denise’s mother, who, when Amalie, excused herself in order to get some more drinks from the bar, joked about it.

‘Even attracting your daughter’s friends now, are you?’ she said and Cillian couldn’t help but choke on his pint of Guinness.

‘Excuse me?’ he asked somewhat surprised, thinking that his ex-wife was referring to you.

‘I think the blonde one sitting next to you has got a little crush on you’ she then whispered just loud enough for you and Denise to hear it as well.

Immediately, Cillian sighed somewhat relieved before having a little chuckle about it.

‘Well dad, according to some of my friends, you are a DILF’ Denise then said before pulling a face quite similar to an emoji which was about to throw up.

‘Some of your friends, huh?’ Cillian then chuckled before looking at you, causing your cheeks to turn red yet again.

‘And what about me?’ Cillian’s brother then asked, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘It’s the haircut man, I highly recommend it if you want to be a DILF’ Cillian then said, causing both, his ex-wife and Denise to roll their eyes.

****

Over dinner, you and Denise talked a lot about university and your upcoming trip to France while Amalie continued to annoy Cillian who, politely, engaged in a conversation with her.

You were amused by the situation and he would often give you a little smile or wink when no one would notice.

His smile was incredible and, if it wouldn’t had been so obvious, you could easily have spent the evening by simply staring at him.

When your desserts finally arrived, you thought about teasing him a little and, discreetly, licked off your dessert spoon in the most seductive way imaginable.

‘I just love whipped cream’ you said and, whilst Cillian gulped, Denise wasn’t suspicious in the slightest. After all, you were telling the truth and had always been a sweet tooth.

You slowly twisted the spoon around in your mouth, licking off the whipped cream for the third time before reaching for the candied cherry on your plate and putting it into your mouth. You ate it slowly before removing the pit with your fingers and licking the sugar from the tips as you pulled it from your mouth.

Then, you licked your lips and discreetly lifted up your foot beneath the table after slipping out of your shoes.

‘Don’t you like your desert?’ Denise asked Cillian as the ice cream on his plate was melting.

‘I am…no…’ he stammered just as your foot brushed over the bulge beneath the denim of his jeans and it was obvious to you that he was hard and straining against the fabric.

When he gulped again, you removed your foot, realising that you shouldn’t tease him any more than that and, just as you did, your phone buzzed and you received a text message from him.

‘Naughty Girl’ it read and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘You can punish me for my actions when I see you tonight’ you responded, confirming that you would be coming over to his apartment again as discussed after you go for celebratory birthday drinks with Denise and her friends.

***

Following dinner, Denise, you and her friends went to a local bar for drinks to celebrate Denise’s birthday amongst yourselves for a few hours and it was at around 11 o’clock that night when you excused yourself, telling Denise that you would have to go home as you had plans with your parents the day after.

Whilst you felt guilty about lying, you couldn’t really tell her what you were really doing and, when you left the bar, you nervously walked around the corner to visit Cillian at his apartment again.

After a five-minute stroll, you arrived and Cillian was quick to let you inside, kissing you passionately as soon as you walked through the door.

‘Let me have a shower first, my hair smells like smoke and booze’ you demanded after Cillian’s hands began to roam your body pretty much immediately.

‘I will be waiting in the bedroom then’ he winked and you nodded in agreement before disappearing into the bathroom.

***

‘So, I am curious Y/N, are you one of Denise’s friends who said that I am a DILF?’ Cillian asked amused as you came out of the bathroom while he was waiting for you on his bed, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs.

‘Yes Mr Murphy, I am. In fact, I think you are a sexy daddy who I most certainly can’t wait to fuck right now’ you smirked as you dropped your towel to the floor and revealed your naked body to him once again.

‘I thought you were sore?’ Cillian then asked but you shook your head and climbed onto the bed with him in the most seductive way possible.

‘I am aching for you my sexy DILF’ you whispered as you climbed onto Cillian’s lap and bit your lip seductively.

‘Well, I better won’t let you wait then naughty girl’ Cillian said as he pulled you close for a passionate kiss. The touch of your lips was like someone brushing a feather across his, and it sent a rolling warmth down through his whole body, making him tremble.

‘Naughty, huh? I can’t remember being naughty’ you winked as you slid into his arms, and he held you to him, letting his hands move down from your face to wrap around your middle. You gently rubbed your lips together, enjoying the contact, the moist touching. It was more playful than usual.

‘Really? You can’t?’ he asked after you sighed into his mouth, slipping your arms around his neck while sitting on his lap and grinding your naked mound against Cillian’s core.

‘No sir, I can’t’ you said playfully before your heads began to move, slowly, side to side, bringing your lips into greater contact. A hunger started to claim you, and any inhibitions that you had been feeling dropped away.

‘Well, for starters you teased me at the restaurant licking off your dessertspoon so fucking seductively, didn’t you?’ Cillian whispered against your lips and you couldn’t help but grin.

‘And then this fucking cherry you put in your mouth’ he went on to say and you grinned again.

‘It made you hard, didn’t it?’ you asked seductively, hoping that your little discrete playfulness at dinner was having an effect on him.

‘You know it did…now that’s naughty, isn’t it?...Making me hard in public’ Cillian teased before his lips met yours once again and you nodded against them.

By now, soft groans permeated the semi-darkness, the sounds of two people breathing harder, gasping, needing, wanting.

Cillian tentatively slipped his tongue forward, and you met it with enthusiasm, thrusting yours right back into his mouth. Your juicy lips rolled all over his, sending waves of pleasure running down his back.

You clung to one another while you kept grinding against him as your kisses were becoming more desperate and needful.

Then, your lips drifted away from each other and your eyes were wild, so filled with lust, it was almost scary how primal your expression was at that moment.

‘What are you doing to me?’ you then whispered.

‘I am going to make sure that you won’t be walking straight for days’ Cillian said as he ran his hands over your breasts firmly.

‘Hmm, I can’t wait’ you moaned and the skin against his hands was smooth, warm, and he closed his eyes for a second and just took in the wonderful feel of your breasts.

‘God, you have the most beautiful breasts’ Cillian the observed as he ran his fingers around the edges of them, feeling their heft, the way they just barely filled his palms. They were so firm, the solid core of a fruit that had, as of yet, gone mostly unsullied. You were always so self-conscious about them and disappointed that you were only blessed with an A-Cup but Cillian seemed to adore them.

‘And I love you touching them the way you do’ you gasped before you kissed him again deeply, with all the passion that was suddenly let loose inside you.

You sighed and met his excitement full-on, pasting your creamy, silky lips to his and letting your tongue roam around his mouth. The room filled with the sounds of ragged breathing, quiet moans of desperation.

Cillian let his mouth slide free, covering your neck with gentle kisses, moving ever downward before somehow pushing you off and beneath him. He took those sweet breasts in his hands again and brought his lips to them one at a time, just brushing across your tight areolas letting the skin rub on his face, his tongue flick out for a taste.

‘Oh god, that feels so good’ you moaned as he was the first man who had paid so much attention to your small perky breasts.

Your stiff nipple barely moved when his tongue rolled around the edge of it. He licked it harder, listening to your gasp when he pushed his mouth around the whole of it, drawing the entire erect knot inside. Your cries grew louder when he started to suck on it, catching the skin between his teeth and pulling it away from your areola, gripping your nipple hard.

‘Oh god’ you moaned, enjoying the slight pain which was a totally new experience for you.

Cillian smiled, setting your nipple free only to grasp it again between his teeth. The teasing went on, long licks, running his tongue in circles around your areolas until they shined with his spit.

Your arousal was blooming into a pulsing heat in the pit of your stomach and spreading down between your legs. You could feel the dampness, your labia swelling and pulling away uncovering your pink fleshy hole.

‘I want you so badly Cillian’ you hissed as he roughly squeezed and suckled your tits.

‘And I want you Y/N…you are driving me absolutely crazy’ Cillian said as he brought his fingers to your juicy labia, running them slowly down your slit, feeling just how wet and slippery you had become in a very short time.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned as you arched your back slightly, groaning and biting one nail while looking down at him.

‘You have the sweetest pussy, so fucking beautiful’ Cillian then said as he gave you a wicked smile before covering your entrance with his mouth and letting his tongue run free.

‘Ah…yes…just like this…fuck’ you moaned loudly as the juice that poured out of you were coating his tongue.

Cillian ran it straight up between your labia to catch your clit at the top of your hood and you nearly came off the cushions beneath you.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, I don't know what you're doing but...GOD! Don't stop!’ you moaned loudly as he found yet another pleasure spot of yours and you realised that, clearly, the boys you had been with before didn't have a clue how to please a woman.

With one hand, he fingered your tight opening, and with the other, he played with one firm breast. His tongue lashed your clit like a badly behaved child. You were beside yourself, unable to lie still, pushing up with your hips and forcing your pussy tighter to Cillian’s face while you moaned and grabbed at the sheets

‘Oh god, fuck. I'm going to fucking cum’ you screamed and Cillian caught it full-on, your juice roaring out to drench his face while you whimpered and threw yourself from side to side. He had never seen a woman go off so hard before, and it turned him on so bad he knew he had to have you right there and then.

***

‘You are incredible Cillian’ you huffed out while you recovered and Cillian pulled off his briefs and you couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful cock again.

‘So are you…so fucking sexy’ he growled like a caged animal, unable to contain his needs any longer.

‘Do I feel good around your cock?’ you asked as you found yourself pressed over onto your back with Cillian on top and looking down at you with a lust that was almost frightening in its intensity.

‘So fucking good’ Cillian groaned and you screamed in pleasure when he entered with one deep thrust.

‘Jesus, you are so tight’ he moaned as your eyes squeezed shut, and you cried out with the feeling of your slit being slammed open by Cillian’s cock.

Despite of what you told him earlier, you were still sore from the afternoon session that you had with him but you wanted it again so badly and ignored the sharp burning sensation which, somehow, felt incredibly pleasurable at the same time.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned, pushing upwards against Cillian, meeting his thrusts.

His cock pushed into you over and over again, shoving aside your dripping pink walls, descending toward your cervix.

‘Your cock feels so good inside me’ you moaned just as Cillian arched his back, revelling in the sensation of being squeezed inside your body and held tight in your slippery hole.

The euphoria quickly started to fade though when he looked back down at the pained expression on your face, and it hit him that he had allowed his overcharged libido to take over, taking you harder than he had ever did before. He should have gone slow, been gentle, but you were doing incredible things to him.

‘Don’t stop, fuck me hard Cillian’ you gasped when he slowed down. ‘I want you to take me and fuck my pussy hard’ you spurred him on and you were surprised with the filth that was leaving your shy lips. Cillian certainly unleashed the wild desires deep within you.

‘Fuck, you are a naughty girl, aren’t you?’ Cillian groaned and you nodded as he slowly resumed his pace. ‘It feels so fucking good inside you’ he observed as he thrusted deep inside you again, making you scream.

‘And you feel so good inside me Cillian, I've never felt it like this...It was never this good with anyone before...Don't hold back…’ you moaned as your bodies fell into sync. Your hips were meeting with the distant slapping of skin on skin and you began to moan and thrash beneath him, digging your long nails into his back with each thrust. He gasped and cried right along with you caught up in the sheer, unbridled joy of it all.

There was no denying your allure. Your body so perfect, every curve, every flawless inch of skin. The way you looked up at him with so much hopeless, naked desire.

Your movements began to reflect your internal struggle between the need to be released from this exquisite torture and the longing for the pleasure never to end.

You pulled Cillian’s head down, covered his lips with yours in a fiery, intense kiss.

‘Fuck Cillian, you are going to make me cum again…oh god…fuck’ you warned him a breathless whisper and he felt you go. A climax so hard he found it difficult to push through it.

You looked so gorgeous caught in the spiders web of your orgasm, shaking, mouth falling open in a silent scream. It was an image of beauty that would be seared into his brain forever.

‘Fuck Y/N, you are so beautiful’ Cillian groaned, trying to hold back on his own release.

‘Don't fight it, Cillian. I know you're close. Cum inside me, I want to fucking feel it’ you groaned, spurring him on and Cillian was seized by an implacable urge to move ever faster like an engine fed too much fuel. The sounds of his hard, panting breaths became more audible. His body snapped tight, back arching as he emptied himself into you.

‘Oh god, Y/N, fuck’ he groaned and you clung harder to him, holding him close while feeling each pulse and jerk of his cock shooting inside you.

‘That's it! Give it to me! Give it all to me’ you moaned and you fell into another sweet kiss as Cillian filled you with his cum before pulling out of you slowly.

‘God, I love when you cum inside me, it feels so fucking good and it looks so fucking sexy when it comes out’ you huffed out while you were still shaking from your orgasm.

‘Does it just?’ he chuckled, causing you nod, biting your lips.

‘Yes, watch’ you said as you spread your legs and pushed out some of his cum from your soaking core before collecting it with your finger and bringing your finger up to your mouth.

‘And it tastes so fucking good too’ you then said, licking the cum of your finger, causing Cillian to gasp.

‘You are something else Y/N, you know that?’ Cillian said before you collapsed on the bed together and the sheets slipped around your naked bodies as you slid between them cuddling together.

Cillian kissed your forehead and stroked your hair while you pillowed her head on his chest.

‘I should probably get home soon’ you murmured as Cillian was holding you close.

‘Stay’ Cillian said rather suddenly, gently taking hold of you and pulling you even closer towards him.

‘Uhm’ you said, thinking about whether you could stay or not. You didn’t want to tell Cillian, but your father had been keeping close tabs on you ever since your sister got herself into trouble a few years ago and you knew that, if you were going to stay, you would need to come up with an excuse and text one of your parents.

‘I am going back to Manchester tomorrow afternoon and I want to make the most of this’ Cillian then said and you nodded reluctantly, agreeing to stay.

‘Alright, I will stay’ you said before kissing him passionately and then reaching for your phone.

‘I will be right back, just getting a glass of water and putting this on charge. Can I use the charger in the kitchen?’ you asked and, of course, Cillian nodded.

When you walked into the kitchen, you quickly texted your parents, letting them know that you would be staying with Denise at her hotel room and that you would see them tomorrow at 8 o’clock.

***

When you returned to the bedroom, you crawled back under the doona, curling up against Cillian’s chest.

‘So…uhm…what is next for us? I mean…when will I see you again?’ you stammered as Cillian ran his fingers through your long hair gently.

‘Probably not until the 14th or 15th of this month’ he then said and you gave him a disappointed pout.

‘That’s two weeks away Cillian’ you observed and Cillian nodded before caressing your face and kissing you gently.

‘Yeah, I am sorry. I’ve got a busy filming schedule and Denise is visiting me in Manchester next weekend so I can’t come home’ he then explained before suggesting that you could come with Denise to visit him.

‘I am working that weekend. Despite, I think we would be playing with fire if I did’ you said and Cillian agreed.

He then told you that he would come to Galway the following weekend and, after that, he would only have two more weeks of filming left.

‘So, do you have many scenes with Laura Jennings during these last four weeks on set?’ you asked cheekily and Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle. He was somewhat flattered as you gave him a mildly jealous stare.

‘No intimate scenes, if that is what you are asking’ he explained before telling you that he wouldn’t be seeing her anymore on an intimate level, which is more than you had expected to hear from him.

‘Cillian…uhm…I didn’t mean to…’ you began to stammer but Cillian quietened your lips with his.

‘I know, it’s fine Y/N’ he said as your lips drifted apart.

‘So, does this mean that, whatever this is between us, is somewhat exclusive?’ you asked and Cillian confirmed that, indeed, he was not interested in seeing other people nor would he feel comfortable if you did.

‘Okay…I like that’ you confirmed and, with that, you curled up against him again with his arms still wrapped around you.

For a while, your fingers played with his chest hair while his hands stroked through your hair, slowly making you tired and it wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep in Cillian’s arms.

***

The following morning, you were woken by your alarm which went off at around 7 o’clock.

‘Hmm, what was that?’ Cillian murmured still half asleep and you informed him that it was the alarm on your phone before you gently crawled your fingers across his chest and began placing gentle kisses over it and then all the way down to his stomach while moving the doona away from his warm body.

‘What are you doing?’ he gasped, still with his eyes closed and dreamy in his mind.

‘What I didn’t get to do last night’ you said with a sultry smile before you rolled down his underwear, letting his cock spring free.

‘Oh my goodness Mr Murphy…you are already hard and I didn’t even get started yet’ you observed as you glanced at his hard shaft, the head of which was swollen and dripping with clear fluid.

‘Sorry, but I usually wake up like this even at 45, especially after dreaming about making love to a beautiful woman like you’ Cillian chuckled as he slowly opened his eyes and saw that your head had already disappeared in between his legs.

You touched his cock gently, electing a moan from him as you watched his long, vein-covered shaft poking up at you. Whilst he usually woke up somewhat aroused most mornings, he couldn't remember ever being this hard before. His cock stood high, curved toward the ceiling, and he thought his balls had never felt so full even after you had spent almost four hours having sex the day before.

Despite your seeming inexperience, you moved slowly, letting the pressure mount while you ran your fingers up and down his cock, exploring every inch before wrapping them around it. The jerking motion that followed made Cillian groan, and you compounded his growing excitement by rubbing your lips on the underside of his shaft. He grew crazed with the need to feel your mouth on it, but every time he pushed towards your waiting lips, you pulled away.

‘Such a tease, aren’t you?’ he gasped out.

‘Poor Baby...You need me. Don't you?’ you asked, your voice filled with lust.

‘God yes…please’ Cillian huffed out, begging you to take his cock into your mouth and you took pity on him at last, letting your tongue roll around the head before rising to take him fully into your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N, just like that’ Cillian moaned as he bit his lower lip and tossed his head back, eyes shut. The pleasure was amazing, and you had more than a little natural skill. Your head bobbed up and down his shaft taking him deeper with each push until you were gagging on it. When you pulled back, his cock was covered in your slick spit, and you went to jerking him hard and fast, watching with fascination his balls surge and harden. He felt a moist heat on his swelling sack, and you took his pleasure up another notch when you started to lick and suck on his balls.

‘Holy...fuck! Y/N! That feels so good!’ he whimpered as your mouth sucked on his balls and your tiny hand masturbated his straining cock the whole time, driving him crazy with the desire to join his flesh to yours.

‘Let me fuck you Y/N…if you keep going like this, I won’t last’ Cillian groaned as your mouth wrapped around his cock again firmly and you began to massage his balls with your hands.

‘No time’ you huffed out in between sucking and licking. ‘Gotta go to church with my parents at eight’ you then said as you began to stroke his cock hard and fast with your hand.

‘I want you to cum in my mouth and watch me swallow it’ you smirked before wrapping your mouth around his hard shaft again before bobbing your head up and down.

‘Jesus Y/N, fuck’ he groaned and, about two minutes later, he let go and gave into the pleasure.

‘I am close’ he warned you and you began to moan around his cock, sucking him harder, wanting to taste him so badly.

‘Give it to me Cillian’ you moaned around his cock and, just after you did and firmly wrapped your mouth around his shaft, you could feel him pulsating and swell.

‘Fuck’ he groaned again loudly as he jerked upwards and held your head steady while he filled your mouth with rope after rope of his sweet and warm cum.

You collected it all in your mouth and on your tongue until he let go of your head, which is when you pulled back and opened your mouth for him, showing him your mouth filled with his seed.

‘Are you going to be a good girl and swallow it all?’ Cillian teased and you nodded with an open mouth, smiling, before closing your lips shut.

‘Hmm, so fucking good’ you smirked after you swallowed with a big grin.

‘Jesus, I am not sure whether I am more turned on by the fact that you swallowed everything or that you used the word church while you had my cock in your mouth’ Cillian chuckled before pulling you close towards him.

‘Yeah, I should probably make this part of my confession later. I shouldn’t have mentioned such a holy place while performing such a sinful act, huh?’ you winked before telling Cillian that you needed to hurry into the shower and get going.

***

You arrived at church ten minutes late and your parents were not impressed with your punctuality.

‘We ask you to make an effort once a month and you are late’ your father said, causing your sister to chuckle.

‘Sorry, my alarm didn’t go off ‘you said as you sat down next to your father, pinned up your hair and reached for one of the bibles in front of you.

You were beyond exhausted and tired and couldn’t stop yawning throughout mass, which irritated your father even more and, when he looked over towards you, he noticed something else he most certainly disapproved of.

After mass, he confronted you about it in front of your mother and sister.

‘It wasn’t Denise you stayed with last night, was it?’ your father asked and you looked at him somewhat confused.

‘Go and look in the mirror’ he said harshly before asking you whether you were still seeing Connor.

‘No and, even if I was, why do you care? I am an adult and quite capable to decide who I go out with’ you explained and your father shook his head.

‘Connor is almost thirty. That’s unacceptable. He is too old to be dating you and, surely, you realise this. Despite, so long as you live with us, you be adhering to my rules’ your father said and, little did he know that you had been applying for positions at other universities, allowing to move now that you had saved up enough money to do so.

‘Sure dad’ you simply huffed out before walking to your car and, just as you did, you remembered your mother’s 50th birthday a few years ago and how much he did, in fact, disliked Cillian.

If he would know the truth, he would probably kick you out of the house right then and there.

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@peaky-cillian​

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[chefdoeuvre]

Pushy

Jay Halstead & Will Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader, Will Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: Some guys don’t know when to take a hint.

Words: 1,116

Requested: yes by anonymous; hey i have a halstead sister request? i don’t know if you’ve seen outer banks but there’s this scene with one of the female protagonists where she’s making out with her boyfriend (who’s sort of like the pushy controlling type) and she says she’s ready to have sex but then backs out and he gets mad at her and i was wondering if u could write an imagine where the same thing happens to y/n with her boyfriend (the girl in the show is like 16 so i’d love it if she was that age- u don’t have to write any descriptive smut obviously cause that’s not really the point) and then she gets home and is super upset but when jay asks what’s wrong at first she doesn’t say anything and tells him he won’t understand but then confides in him and he gets protective and caring? sorry if this is really descriptive but i also really want an imagine where it touches on y/n growing up without a mother or female figure in her life and how it can be hard to discuss some things with brothers but they love her so it’s fine? thx so much 💗

Warnings: mention of sex, an annoying Topper-like person, language, Will and Jay Halstead together (because they need a warning when they’re put in the same room).

A/N: I just watched Outer Banks last week (‘coincidentally’ after getting this request) and I might be a little obsessed. For anyone not familiar the scene this is inspired by is between Sarah and Topper in s1ep3. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

Parties. They were all the rage with summer now coming to an end. Everyone wanted to get in their last huzzah before the school year started up once again. You and your boyfriend were at pretty much every single party this summer. Of course, he would drag you along with his friends with empty promises of a good time. You and parties never mixed well, especially because all you could hear in the back of your mind were Jay and Will’s voices harping on you being safe. You were currently sitting on a couch on the back porch while you nursed your first and only cup of beer for the night. Your boyfriend had soon waltzed his way into the seat beside you. He swung an arm over your shoulder and whispered a few words into your ear. His breath smelled of tequila and vaguely of lemons which were probably from the shots he had just been doing.

“Let’s head somewhere more quiet.” He gestured his head toward the door leading back into the house.

You nodded your head and followed him as he led you to the balcony upstairs. The balcony overlooked the backyard where most people stood, did a few shots, and chatted. The two of you took a seat beside each other on the small couch they had set up. After a few moments went by the two of you leaned in to share a kiss.

The kiss quickly became heated as his hands began to roam your body. Pulling at your top eagerly.

“Are you sure?” He pulled back with a breath after you gave him no sign of stopping.

“Yeah.” You nodded and leaned back in.

As the two of you continued to make out the overwhelming feeling you always got in this situation came creeping back. The feeling caused you to pull away as you shook your head.

“No, no I can’t.” You scooted a few centimeters away from him.

“Of course.” He huffed, “you always say you’re ready and then can’t continue. Make up your damn mind already.” He stood up and walked back into the house, most likely to find his friends once again.

You let out a sigh and ran a hand over your warm face. You laughed humorlessly at your luck in guys before standing up and making your way out of the house. Crossing your arms over your chest you started the short walk home to yours and Jay’s apartment building. Thankfully, Jay and Will would be home by the time you made it back to the apartment. Even with how overprotective Jay is he trusted you not to get shitfaced and throw yourself into trouble at parties. Of course, as long as you made it home by your curfew, which was decently reasonable. Your two brothers had already made plans to watch the game at Jay’s apartment together while they would wait for you to make it home.

After walking in through the door you threw your shoes to the side and flopped onto the couch in between Jay and Will with a huff. The two of them exchanged a confused glance before looking at your somewhat pouty and pissed-off face.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Will asked with concerned eyes.

You sat there silently seething while also feeling the need to cry your eyes out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jay turned to face you.

“You won’t understand.” You shook your head, your voice was clearly upset.

“All right, so it’s about a guy then?” Will considered.

The two men sat there blankly staring at each other, communicating with their eyes on how to approach this. They stilled when they heard a soft sniffle come from you.

“My boyfriend sucks.” You sighed.

Will and Jay looked up at each other with wide eyes, already assuming the worst.

“What’d he do? Did he hurt you?” Jay questioned.

“No. Unless it’s emotionally then the answer is yes.” You wiped your nose with the back of your hand.

“Emotionally, how?” Will tilted his head.

“I can’t tell you, it’ll be weird.” You scrunched your nose at the thought of telling your older brothers about your sex life. Or lack thereof.

“We promise we won’t be weird. Right, Will?” Jay reassured you as he glanced up at the oldest of the three of you.

“I’ll even pinky promise.” Will held out his pinky toward you, eliciting a small laugh when you connected yours with his.

“The floor is yours.” Jay gestured outward with his arm.

“No being weird.” You warned.

“No being weird.” The two men nodded simultaneously.

“So my boyfriend and I were at a party, as you know.” They gestured for you to continue, “and I said I wanted to do it but when I changed my mind he got all pissy about it. And he does this every time I think I’m ready but back out.” You explained quickly.

Jay pursed his lips as he shared an awkward look with Will who held a similar awkward expression at the topic of conversation. After a few silent moments, Jay cleared his throat before speaking up.

“Trust me when I say this is as awkward as it is for me than it is for you. Especially when Mom would’ve been better for this conversation, but we love you so I guess Will and I will have to do.” Jay laid it all out.

“Fair enough.” You nodded slowly.

“First of all, screw him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Will began which made Jay scoff, “damn right he doesn’t.” Jay added.

“Secondly, if you don’t feel like you’re ready he should be able to respect your feelings and your decision. But clearly, since he lacks functioning brain cells he was being an ass. Which no person should ever do to their significant other.” Will explained calmly after giving Jay a smack on the back of the head.

“Seriously?” Jay questioned as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Advice first, overprotective brother second.” Will narrowed his eyes.

“I can multitask.” Jay mumbled snarkily.

After both brothers offered you some much-needed and surprisingly helpful advice they squished you in between the two of them for a hug.

“Hey, even if you think you can’t talk to us about something I promise you we will do our best.” Jay pulled away to look at you.

“All right?” Jay asked.

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks.” You mumbled into Will’s arm, which he still had wrapped around you.

“Don’t worry, it’s our job to give you life advice.” Will rubbed up and down your arm comfortingly.

Who needs a mother figure when you have your annoying older brothers to help you navigate life?

[catgirltoofies]

sea shore

another story brought on by a discord conversation (thank you @abyranss). this story is very vaguely inspired by certain events in nagisa's wish, which i have not actually experienced, so I'm going off what I've been told.

the living room was dimly lit; it was getting late and nobody had gone to turn on the evening lights yet. nagisa lounged upside-down on the sofa, her hair all spread across the floor, her eyes shut. were it not for the awkward position, one might think she was napping.

"What do you think we should eat for dinner?" called mami, from the kitchen. nagisa sat up, getting a bit dizzy from the sudden rush to her head.

"Cheese!" she shouted after a short recovery, "Cheese with... pasta?"

"We had that last night. And cheese and crackers the night before. Is there anything else?"

"Mmm... Do we have any fish? I wouldn't mind some nice fried fish."

the fridge door opened. nagisa's ear perked as she heard the quiet rustling of mami looking through the shelves. "I'm not finding any, but there's still time to go to the market. Get a coat on if you want to come with me."

nagisa turned herself around, hopping off the couch and heading for the closet. it was neatly divided into two parts - mami's side, carefully arranged and probably organized, and nagisa's side, piled clothes wherever they fit. she picked out a sweatshirt mami had made a month ago and a light jacket, pulled them on, and waited by the door.

mami joined her in short order, wearing a similar sweatshirt and jacket combo. "Nice choice," mami smiled as she grabbed her keys.

the two girls walked quietly down the sidewalk. the sun barely peeked over the buildings, and the world slowly fell into darkness as they arrived at the market. barely an hour was left before it would close, so mami walked quickly and with purpose, buying fresh vegetables and fish to last for the night and next couple of days. nagisa bought a local cheese she had a particular fondness for, and then the bell rang, signaling the market's close.

"Dang, I would've liked to get some apples. Something for next time," mami said.

"I bet Kyoko knows where we can get some nice apples."

"Yeah, probably, but she probably won't be awake for another few hours. It can wait."

the girls walked back home, now in the low light of the moon. dinner was going to be somewhat late tonight, evidently.

back at the apartment, mami set the kettle on to boil. "Would you like some tea, Nagisa?"

"No, thank you. I can cook the fish, though, if you would like to rest."

"I'd love that, thank you."

nagisa got right to work, preparing the fish and shallow frying it while mami took her tea to rest on the sofa. nagisa loved to cook, it was one of the few things she could do at home without being bored out of her mind.

nagisa brought two plates into the living room, each with a nice serving of fish and a pile of vegetables. mami's vegetables were all mixed up, while nagisa's were carefully sorted into individual piles. and thus began dinner.

"What made you think of fish?"

"Mm?"

"For dinner. I expected cheese, but why fish?"

nagisa looked at her plate with the half-eaten fish. "It's... a memory, sort of. One I wanted but never got."

"A dream?"

"Not quite. See, when I was young, my mother promised me she would take me to the beach. She met my father at that beach, and that is why they named me Nagisa. But then, mom got sick and dad left, and then... well, we never ended up going to that beach together."

mami nodded. "I see. Do you remember which beach it was?"

"Yes." nagisa told her where the beach was.

"I'll keep that in mind, then."

the rest of dinner was silent but for the clinking of utensils.

the next few days were relatively quiet for nagisa. she was starting to get a bit worried she had put some distance between herself and mami with the story, but that worry was alleviated when she was told they were going on a trip. kyoko had bought a few bus passes to a nearby city for a buy-two-get-two-free deal, so she offered the extras to mami and nagisa, who graciously accepted. she, mami, nagisa, and yuma all piled together into an otherwise empty bus. nagisa and yuma played word games together while kyoko and mami talked quietly, occasionally laughing amongst themselves.

finally, the bus pulled to a stop. the younger girls leaped up and practically ran off the bus, beginning an impromptu game of tag. the game quickly ended when nagisa looked in the direction of the ocean, whose waves quietly roared, making an unmistakable sound. her breath caught in her throat as mami wrapped an arm around her.

"What do you think?"

nagisa shook her head, staying silent for some time. finally, she spoke up. "It's... there are no words. I had resigned to never coming here, but... to be here, with you, and with Kyoko and Yuma, it's indescribable. Better than I could have ever dreamed." she turned and buried her face into mami's shirt, wrapping her arms in a tight hug.

"Thank you, Mami,"

[xcrystalzero]

all the things i believed

pairing: xiao x reader

summary: you've only seen the boy who lives in the apartment one over from yours a few times, but you knew the look of someone who wanted to seem intimidating when you saw one. so, why was his music taste so adorable?

alternatively, xiao thinks that the apartment walls are a lot thicker than they actually are and accidentally exposes the fact that he's not nearly as angsty as he wants everyone to believe.

note: soft xiao makes me way too happy. also, here is xiao's playlist! i recommend listening while you read :) if you guys like it, i'll make playlists for my fics more often!

"I'll miss you!" Your roommate had her arms wound tightly around your torso and it didn't seem like she planned on letting go any time soon. She was also squeezing just a tad too hard and it was starting to hurt.

Gingerly, you patted her on the shoulder, subtly attempting to pry her off of you with your other hand. "I'll miss you too... But remember, it's only two weeks and then you're back!"

That only served to make her pout even more as she finally pulled away "Two weeks is so long though! How am I going to survive without you and your brownies?"

"Hah, so you're really only worried about not having brownies huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" she whined, causing you to giggle slightly. Honestly though, there was no way anyone watching could possibly think that she would only be gone for two weeks. Your roommate had decided that she needed three full suitcases and the world's largest carry-on purse for her little trip, and you were honestly a little worried about it.

"Ahem..." Your bonding moment was promptly interrupted by a soft but very present voice directly behind you. Whirling around, you came face to face with a vaguely familiar figure.

It was the golden eyes that caught your attention first. Even in the strange fluorescent light of the hallway, they almost seemed to have a light of their own, a hypnotizing sort of gleam that you couldn't bring yourself to look away from. Of course, the rest of him was no less than stunning either. Dressed head to toe in black with his angular features and lean build, he was striking.

His eyes widened slightly as you turned towards him though they settled fairly quickly back into what you could only assume was his trademark glare.

"Just... trying to get through." His voice was gruff, but much softer than you had anticipated. Perhaps even gentle?

Oh yeah, that was how you knew him! Your schedules must have been somewhat similar since you were sure you passed him at least a few times a week. You had never talked but you were pretty sure you had seen him going into the unit one over from yours quite a few times.

So this was your neighbor huh? He was cute, if a little intimidating.

"Oh sorry!" your roommate chimed in. "We were just leaving, we'll get out of your way!" She began to scoot her bags to the side and you quickly joined in, wheeling one of the suitcases to the side, though you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off of the guy. Every time you looked away, it was as though your gaze was drawn back towards him by some unnatural force.

It helped that he seemed just as awkward with the whole thing as you did, alternating glancing between the you and your roommate, the floor, and his phone. As soon as there was enough space for him to squeeze by, he did, mumbling a quick thanks as he made his way down the hall, unlocking his door and disappearing into his apartment in what felt like a second.

After a moment of silence, your roommate piped up again. "He's cute!"

"He can probably still hear you!" you whacked her across the shoulder, causing her to pout in your direction again, though the teasing look never left her eyes.

"He's kind of your type too isn't he?" she all-but waggled her eyebrows in your direction to which you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you already late for your flight"

"Oh shit!"

~~~

The apartment felt so strange when you were alone. Usually around this time of night, your roommate would have come banging on your door to join her for her late night rom-com marathon or to help her chose an outfit or the party she was going to. Tonight however, everything was quiet.

With a sigh, you slumped over onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone in hopes of finding some sort of entertainment.

That was when you heard it. The soft sound of an instrumental through the wall, slowly building in volume as you assumed whoever lived in that room turned up the volume.

"40 days and 40 nights... I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life..."

Aww cute, love songs! Had you been busy or doing literally anything else, you might have been annoyed, or at least a little worried about exactly how loud they had to be playing their music for you to be able to hear it. As things stood though, it was a welcome distraction.

"You were out of my league, all the things I believed, you were just the right kind yeah you were more than just a dream..."

Oh yeah, you knew this song too! There was a sort of second timbre to the sound and you wondered if the person playing the music was singing along as well.

Wait, who was playing that music. Judging by the sound, it was likely the unit one to your left where their wall joined with yours. The unit one to your left...

Multi-colored hair and golden eyes... The cute guy? Pulling yourself immediately up into a sitting position, you pressed yourself to the wall before immediately realizing how crazy you were acting.

He was just playing music, that wasn't anything weird.

"Romeo take me, somewhere we can be alone..."

Taylor Swift. He was playing Taylor Swift. At that, you started laughing. Wow, appearances really could be deceiving huh? You sighed as you leaned with your back against the wall, letting the vibrations from the music soak into your very being.

You were sure that you'd heard music coming from that unit before but he wasn't usually loud at all. Maybe something was different today? Maybe you'd ask him when you next saw him. And maybe, he'd actually want to talk to you when you did.

Or maybe not.

So for now, you let your head rest against the wall, letting the music and soft singing lull you into relaxation.

~~~

That was it, you despised public transportation. All you wanted was to get out of your apartment for one day and take your work to a nearby cafe. So of course, when you ran outside to catch the bus that came once every hour, the bus driver looked you straight in the eye as he closed the door right in front of you and drove off. And then for good measure, it started raining.

You sighed, burying your face in the backpack on your lap. If the bus app was right, which it rarely was, there was another bus you could take arriving in the next few minutes, so maybe this wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

The sound of footsteps entering the little bus stop booth got your mind off of your moping as you raised your head just enough to peer over at who it was that had just joined you.

Oh. Standing there, hood pulled up over his multi-toned hair and seemingly permanent scowl fixed on his lips, was your hot neighbor. Your hot neighbor with very interesting music taste if last night told you anything.

Since nothing could go right for you, the moment that you looked at him, he looked at you, meaning the two of you got to share a few agonizing seconds of awkward eye contact before he pointedly turned away with a soft "tsk". That being said, you were sure that you weren't imagining the slight tinge of shock you had seen in his gaze for a moment.

"You've got good timing, there's one coming in like 5 minutes." You had no idea how you had managed to get the words out without stuttering or blushing the moment he turned back to look at you.

"That's good..." Yup, that was an expected response, and yet, you really just wanted him to keep talking. So this was the end of your story with the gorgeous emo boy next door. Relegated to exchanging conversation about public transportation and nothing more. It was really the wasted potential here that was killing you. So many cute interactions that would just never happen. Ah if only the bus would come so that you wouldn't have to wallow in your despair any longer.

"I... thought you were leaving yesterday?"

Oh? You whirled around way too quickly to face the man, causing his eyes to widen as he shifted away instinctually.

"Oh, I was just helping my roommate move all of her stuff," you managed to get out, summoning what you hoped was a non-nervous smile to your lips.

"Those were all her bags?" he seemed horrified, enough so that you couldn't hold back your laughter.

"I said the same thing! She's kind of insane sometimes but I love her..." Well, it was no or never. "I'm [name] by the way!" You smiled and extended a hand out towards the boy.

He regarded you for a moment with a look you couldn't put into words. After what felt like an eternity however, he gently took your hand in his own, holding it for barely a moment before pulling back again. "Xiao."

Xiao. There was a strange sense of relief that came with this new knowledge. Know that you knew his name, was it couth to ask him what his favorite Taylor Swift song was? Probably not. But there was a chance that you might literally never be able to talk to him again... Meh, it was as you were thinking before right? Now or never.

"Hi Xiao. I liked your playlist last night by the way." The words came out more effortlessly than you had thought they would, carefree and teasing.

You were a little bit surprised though when you glanced back over at Xiao, only to find him eyes blown wide as a deep red spread quickly across his cheeks. "Y-You!"

"Honestly a pretty good curation! If a little unexpected..." You had no idea what it was about this guy but he really brought the snarky, teasing part of you out. Maybe it was the fact that while he usually looked cold and intimidating, blushing, embarrassed Xiao was strangely adorable.

"I thought you left!" Xiao blurted out. "I mean... There were so many bags... And your roommate said that you guys were leaving..."

You stared blankly at him for a moment before immediately dissolving into peals of laughter. Xiao had the gall to pretend to be offended for a moment before he looked away with a soft huff. "What..."

"You know, I kind of thought you were scary at first," you managed between giggles. "I guess not though!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable." Xiao rolled his eyes though you were sure that you saw the slightest hint of a smile as he did. "Why were you listening through the walls anyway?"

"Xiao, it was literally so loud."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"And I think I heard some singing too! Say, you in a band? Do you guys usually just write love songs?"

"I was not singing!"

There was a strange warmth in your chest as the two of you went back and forth. So things could go right for you after all?

~~~

Sadly, you and Xiao hadn't been going the same way, so when his bus came - before yours you might add - the two of you had parted ways. The sun had been going down when you made your way back home, satisfied with a productive day, though the memory of your conversation with Xiao was still taking up a lot more headspace than you would have liked.

So this is what it was like to simp for a guy? You weren't sure you liked it.

Setting down the takeout you had picked up on the counter, you crashed onto your living room couch with a low groan. Sleep would be nice right about now, but also, you had to eat and shower and clean...

"I wonder what Xiao's doing?" The thought appeared in your head suddenly and you almost smacked yourself right then and there. Why were you always thinking about him? You'd literally spoken to the guy once, and it wasn't anything special! Just some teasing and his little retorts... And his cute blush... And his little smile... And the way he pretended to be annoyed when he was clearly enjoying it... Wow, this was worse than you thought.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?"

You yelped, jumping up in your seat at the sudden noise, coming once again from the wall separating you and Xiao's units. You paused for a moment but before you could stop yourself, you were back up on your feet, making your way over and banging against the wall.

"You're not fooling anyone Xiao!" you yelled, not sure if he could even hear you. Apparently he could since the music stopped as quickly as it had started. There was a moment of silence as you pressed your ear to the wall, waiting for his next move. What you did not expect was to hear sound in the other direction. A knock on your door.

Confused, you made your way over, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal, Xiao? He was still wearing his giant black hoodie, though the glare was missing.

"Did you run out of sugar or something? Or fake angsty songs to play?" you questioned with a grin.

As expected, he let out a soft huff, turning his head away in fake exasperation. "You're a menace."

"So what I'm hearing is that you want me to send in a noise complaint!"

"You idiot... I'm just here to-" For whatever reason, he was blushing again.

"Here to?" you prompted, wondering if you should invite him in or offer him water or something. He was tugging at the collar of his hoodie too...

"J-Just here to say that if you're going to sit there listening through the walls, you might as well just come over..."

Did you hear that right? You stared at him for a moment longer, blinking slowly. This was probably a dream right? You were so tired when you got home that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to..." Or maybe not.

"You know, normal people just invite people over without pretending to be edgy right?"

"Shut it, are you coming or not?"

"Yeah yeah I'm coming. Oh yeah, I got takeout, I'll bring it. It's from that new place down the street, Wangshu Inn. Have you ever had Almond Tofu before?"

"... you're unbelievable."

note: i want a hot neighbor like xiao... i did have a hot neighbor who i did hit on, but then i found out that he had a girlfriend so i stopped... but xiao would be better.

[justauthoring]

And The Story Goes...

Prompt(s): Hello there! I saw your requests were opened for haikyuu and I thought about a bokuto x f!reader where they're both already together but some friends of them wonder how Bo and her got together because they seem to have a complete different personality trait, like reader is super quiet and calm whereas Bo is full of energy and quite loud. So the story could be how they ended up in a relationship? And reader could actually be very talkative and lively around the right people (Bokuto 😝) Is this okay? Thank you so much for your work!!

Hi!! Could you pls write a Bokuto x reader fic where the reader goes to Fukurodani. This is set during the training camp at night when they’re joined by Tsukki. Maybe the reader is a manager or part of the girls team and is just visiting. The reader is friends with Kuroo and the members of the Fukurodani team. The guys are teasing Bokuto and/or reader cuz why not lol. Maybeee Tsukki can’t believe that Bokuto is dating the reader cuz the reader is awesome or something like that? (You can ignore the previous sentence if you want)It doesn’t have to follow this exactly, but I beg you pls pls pls have it during the training camp. You’re writing is soooo amazing and I trust whatever you think is best!! Hope you have a great day xx

Requested by: @ohwaitimthewriter​ + anonymous

A/N: Hello, yes, hi! I’m back from my short little break with this adorable oneshot. I thought these two were so similar I couldn’t help but combine them -- hope you both don’t mind! Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x F!Reader

“I just don’t understand.”

Blinking at the sound of Tsukishima voice, you turn your attention from your clipboard to him with a curious tilt of your head, humming; “what’s that, Tsukki?”

And he eyes you for a moment, silent and carefully, before he turns and he gaze turns to the rest of the small crowd around the both of you -- but more specifically zones in on that of Bokuto, clearly puzzled. “How are you with him?”

He’s blunt because that’s just how he is, and but now you’ve grown adjusted to the first years somewhat blank voice and attitude that it doesn’t really phase you or insult you as much as you think it should. Part of you wants to be offended, and you’re not even sure if it’s for your sake or your boyfriends, but you’re not, and instead, you simply set down the notes you’d been taking for Bokuto and Akaashi’s sake and clasp your hands behind your back, smiling. 

“Because I love him.”

You say it so matter-of-factly that even Tsukishima blinks in response. He pauses another minute, as if contemplating, before his face twists into barely concealed disgust. “You’re so quiet and calm, but very smart and analytical when you want to be,” you blink at the compliment, “and he’s so... not.”

“Not?”

“He’s loud,” Tsukishima frowns, “all the time. And he’s not very--”

You cut him off with a small squeal, the sudden feeling of arms wrapped tenderly around your waist surprising you, and the lack of footing beneath your feet. But the surprise only lasts a second because it isn’t all that hard to realize who it is when you hear a familiar cackle and the touch becomes recognizable. 

“Ko!”

You’re laughing as he sets you down, and the second you have your balance, you spin in his arms, smiling up at him. You notice then that Kuroo, Akaashi and Lev have also followed your boyfriend off the court, where they’d previously been doing some extra practicing.

“Hey babe,” he grins, all tooth-like, down at you.

“Everything okay?” You frown gently, “why’d you guys stop? You didn’t hurt yourself, right?”

Your eyes are already flickering across his body in search when Kuroo steps forward, laughing lightly; “no, the idiot just didn’t like that you weren’t watching him,” your lips form an ‘o’, and Kuroo turns to Tsukishima. “Besides, we lost a player.”

“Moo,” Bokuto frowns, hair deflating with with a pout, “what’s so important about Tsukki that you weren’t watching me anymore, Y/N/N?”

“Oh,” shrugging, you turn to Tsukishima, “Tsukki was actually asking me how you and I started dating, Ko.” 

Tsukishima frowns, and you know it’s because that’s definitely not what he’d been asking, but he holds his tongue -- or rather, is forced to when Kuroo speaks up before he can. 

“Actually,” Kuroo calls, brows furrowing, “I don’t even know how you two met.”

“You never told him?” You ask Bokuto, who shrugs down at you.

“Never came up.”

“I always just assumed the two of you met through volleyball.”

“They didn’t,” Akaashi shakes his head, “Y/N-san became manager because of Bokuto-san.”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh at the memory. “He’d been begging me to for so long,” you shake your head, yet there’s still a bright smile present upon your lips. “It was a bit weird starting a new club in my second year, but Bokuto had pull with the coach and he said I already was there every night for practice that it made sense anyways.”

Bokuto squeezes you then, pulling you flush against his chest as he grins brightly; “which means Y/N always gets to see me play now.”

“Oh, hush,” you lightly slap his chest, to which he pouts again, “I went to every one of your games anyways.”

He doesn’t argue. Mainly cause you’re right.

“That’s great,” Tsukishima drawls, “but that still doesn’t explain how you met.”

You turn to him in surprise, him being the last one you expected to ask that since he hadn’t really wanted to know in the first place anyways. And by the expression on his face, or the way he flushes lightly when you smirk knowingly at him, he hadn’t really expected himself to ask it either.

“I assume it still has to do with volleyball,” Lev grins, excitedly leaning into the conversation.

You blink when you realize just how interested everyone seems to actually be, even Akaashi seems mildly interested and he’s never asked before. 

Well, who are you to deny.

“You’re right, Lev,” you grin brightly. “He hit me in the head with a volleyball.”

There’s a pause, it lasts for no more then a minute, and then a sputter of surprise, gasps and chokes echoing around you as every boy wears a different expression of surprise. Akaashi and Tsukishima are the most tame, which isn’t surprising. Tsukishima just seems... really the same, Akaashi’s eyes have widened slightly, but he doesn’t seem all that shocked.

Maybe it’s because he probably knows Bokuto best besides you.

Lev looks flabbergasted, eyes bulged and lips parted. And Kuroo... well, Kuroo’s laughing like a hyena like he does when he finds something really funny; arms wrapped around his stomach, tears coming out of his eyes, the sort, and Bokuto looks so absolutely insulted that you’re almost scared it’s enough to bring him into his emo-mode despite not even being on the court.

“You hit her in the head with a volleyball!”

“Honestly, that makes sense.”

“Akaashi!”

“Sorry, Bokuto-san.”

“Bu-But!” You desperately cut in, shaking your hands in front of you. “He was really apologetic and sweet, and literally brought me flowers every day to school just to say sorry again. And in the grand scheme of things, I’m glad he hit me in the head with that volleyball or else I never would’ve met him.”

“Aweh, babe~”

“Even if it did give me a mild concussion.”

“Babe-! Don’t laugh, Kuroo!”

Bokuto pulls from you to swat Kuroo, who ducks from his hit and before you know it the two are chasing each other. Lev instantly goes to join, just excited to be apart of everything, and with a long sigh, Akaashi goes to reign in Bokuto, leaving you and Tsukishima alone.

You watch Bokuto for a moment longer before speaking, “to answer your question, I’m with Bokuto because he makes me the best I can be.” You eye him out of the corner of your eye. “He may be loud and a lot, but I’m not really my true self without him.”

Tsukishima still seems puzzled and honestly, you’re not that surprised -- having been helping the Gym three squad after practice for the past few days, you’ve come to learn that Tsukishima’s not all that understanding a simple human relationships and seems to struggle opening up to other people.

You hope, however, he’ll learn to understand what you mean.

“Oh, and Tsukishima?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever call my boyfriend stupid again.”

You send him a short smile, raising a brow at him as his lips part, surprise flooding his gaze.

“Y/N/N~! Come watch me spike!”

“Of course, Ko.”

-

Have I said how much I love Bokuto?

[pars-ley]

hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex 

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?" 

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab." 

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics. 

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is. 

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?” 

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm. 

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands. 

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented." 

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this? 

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there. 

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds. 

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave. 

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking. 

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside. 

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze. 

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?" 

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?" 

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building. 

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No." 

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

 "Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline. 

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before. 

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is. 

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie." 

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?" 

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after. 

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks. 

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade. 

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice. 

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 26.4k

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

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

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

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

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

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What...What are these?”

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

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

Then it all clicks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just...it’s like…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, I can’t hold—”

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

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

“Do I make myself clear?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm-mm. What?” 

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

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

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

“I fuck them until they break.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

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

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

“I...I want you to spank me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours.” 

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

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

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

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

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

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

“You drool in your sleep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

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

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

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

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

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

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

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

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s definitely something.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How chivalrous.”

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

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

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

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.” 

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

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

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

“Wow. I feel used.” 

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

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

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

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

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re so dumb.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uber for Y/N?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh...my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The irony of it all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like Hamilton?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You are vile.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[staplernpaper]

Harvey who (Spencer Reid x reader)

Summary: Spencer accidentally overhears your conversation with Penelope. After hearing the conversation, he thinks you're dating a man named Harvey. But Harvey isn't exactly what spencer thinks he is.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Mentions of divorce

Author note: Ten points if you can guess whose Harvey. What did the nut say while chasing the other nut, I'm a cashew.

It was really rare for Spencer to befriend people within his age range. You however were one of those few exceptions. Your friendship started out as work colleague status which eventually blossomed into a friend outside of work status. Even though that was expected when joining the BAU; when someone new joins they slowly integrate into the family. This was different. Since you were both close in age, you never really saw him as a kid but rather an equal. It was refreshing on his part.

Being in the same age range wasn't the only reason he considered you as a friend. Turns out you are very similar to him in terms of personality and preferences. You both didn't enjoy spending your weekends at noisy clubs but rather enjoy the silence of your home with a good book in hand. You both shared a love of sci-fi shows, his vast knowledge made movie nights more fun as he'd be able to point out the fiction from facts. His rambles were one of the many things you looked forward to at work, so when word got out that you actually enjoy hearing it, he'd obviously started rambling more during your hangouts.

While you were close with Spencer, he obviously wasn't your only friend on the team. You considered everyone on the team to be your friend, but other than Spencer you'd also considered Penelope to be another close friend. While he and you shared some interests, there are just some things that he doesn't understand. Especially newer and recent pop culture. So whenever you needed to geek out on a new video game or tv show, you'd usually talk to her. Because of this, it was a really common occurrence for you to run away to the 'Batcave' during lunch hour. Which exactly was what is happening right now.

For the past week, you've been hanging out a lot with Penelope. During your lunch hour, you'd either go to the 'Batcave' to hang out or go out to have lunch with just the two of you. Spencer was obviously saddened by this cause he was starting to miss being by your side. Of course, he didn't want to intrude on your Garcia time. Therefore, he thought it would be a good idea to buy your favourite pastries and beverage from your favourite café. He wanted to see you just for a bit and see your smile. Seeing that smile would really make his day. So with drinks and pastries in hand, he made his way to the 'Batcave'. He had food for you, him, and Penelope (he didn't want to leave her out).

As he was approaching the room, he could somewhat hear your conversation. However, as he got closer that's when he could truly hear the words that were being uttered. He stopped on a dead track. For what he heard knocked him out of his mismatched socks.

"Ahhh!!! Pen I gave Harvey the bouquet of flowers yesterday. We're officially dating"

" That's so good for Kitten!!! You've been gushing about that doctor all week"

Spencer was shocked. Never had you mentioned that you were seeing someone else. Let alone mentioned that you were interested in a 'Harvey'. Hearing this made his stomach turned. But he really didn't know why. Shouldn't he feel happy for you? You finally found someone who could potentially be a partner that you could spend your whole life with. However he couldn't help but think, where would he be in this equation. Will you have to forgo your friendship to spend time with this Harvey. His brain was running through the many possibilities that he didn't hear the door opening.

" Oh hey Spencie, glad to see you here," you remarked. There you stood at the door with those beautiful (y/e/c) eyes staring back at him.

"Hi there (y/n), I umm.. decided to go to that café you liked to pick up some coffee. While I was there I thought I'd also pick some pastries and drinks for you and Penelope. Uh here you go." he stated as handed the foods and beverages to you. Judging by your smile, you were very delighted by this surprise. You handed Garcia her drink and food.

"Ohh Spencer you are truly a sweetheart" Garcia thanked him. She had also offered Spencer to join them. A part of him wanted to, this was finally a chance to be with you. But another part of him dreaded it, for he was afraid that if he joined the topic of conversation would be about this Harvey. Weighing out the odds he declined Garcia offer.

" I'd really like to but I can't. Derek asked if I could help him with his paperwork umm.. as he seems to be a bit behind so I ahh.. really need to get back to work. I'll see you later." he fumbled with his words as he tried to come up with a good enough excuse. Hopefully, Derek would be willing to play along later.

" Okie Dokie then I'll see you later then. Bye-bye," you responded with a wave. Spencer returned the wave and made his way out of the room. As soon as he was out of your sight, he made a dash for it. Maybe Emily or Derek would know more about this 'Harvey'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since lunch hour was almost over he knew he could find them at their respective desks soon. He took a seat at his desk while waiting for either Morgan or Emily. While waiting, his brain kept running through the many possibilities of what this 'Harvey' guy is like. What made you attracted to him. Was it his looks? His Personality? How did you meet? He kept asking himself all these questions, but of course, his train of thought would be disturbed.

"Umm Spencer, you okay?" Emily concerned seeing him stare into space, it was definitely out of character for him.

Even though Spencer's first intention was to ask Emily and/or Derek about Harvey, the rational side of his brain thought that this was a bad idea. This is your love life, maybe he shouldn't be such a busy body. "Oh, it's nothing” Spencer tried to brush it off maybe he really shouldn’t pry into your love life.

Even though Emily didn’t buy it she didn’t want to pry him further. He’ll tell when he's ready. But of course, Spencer's brain wouldn't let him rest. How long have you been dating? What if you got married to 'Harvey'? Oh, screw it!!!

“Has (y/n) mentioned seeing anyone?” Spencer hesitantly asked Emily

“No. Not That I'm aware of”

Spencer was obviously saddened by this. He was hoping that someone other than Penelope would have intel on Harvey.

"Why is she seeing someone?" Emily was truly shocked. Seeing the way Spencer and you interacted, she thought you two would have a major crush on one another. I mean It was pretty obvious on Spencer's part.

" I mean I'm not too sure. I overheard her conversation with Penelope..." Spencer explained further the details he heard to Emily.

As soon as Spencer finished explaining to Emily, Derek made his appearance. What perfect timing.

" What you two gossiping about?" Derek inquired. Seeing Emily and Spencer so close to each other meant that whatever they were talking about had to be juicy.

" A guy named Harvey stole Spencer's chance on asking (y/n) out" Even though she knew Spencer was having an internal meltdown on this situation, she couldn't help but tease him.

" Hey, I don't have a crush on (y/n). I just wanted to know if either knew more about Harvey. So far the only thing I know is that he's a doctor "

" Wait, I think I know who this 'Harvey' guy is." As soon as Derek stated those words Spencer turned his head and focused towards him.

Spencer was shocked. I mean Emily didn't know anything about Harvey. The girls of the BAU rarely kept secrets from each other. How would Derek know? Or was he just trying to trick him the way most older brothers do to their younger siblings?

" Yeah if I'm not mistaken he's a doctor who works in a clinic. Penelope was telling me how (y/n) would totally be interested in a guy like him. From what she said he's a kind-hearted coffee addict who's into jazz and model planes"

Recalling back from the conversation, Penelope did mention that he was a doctor. Therefore, the Harvey that Derek was telling them had to be the same Harvey he overheard. This was exactly what Spencer wanted, he wanted to know more about Harvey. He got what he wanted yet he felt despaired by this info. But why?

His sad facial expression was obvious to Derek and Emily. You didn't need to be a profiler to be able to see it.

" Hey, Spence don't be sad. Maybe this relationship won't last and then you'll have another chance to ask her out" Emily joked trying her best to reassure him.

" For the last time, I don't have a crush on (y/n). Sure I'm a little bit sad that we won't get to hang out like we used BUT I'm not sad that she finally found a partner. A partner that will spend their whole life making her happy" Spencer tried to convince Derek and Emily. But the way he was explaining it was as if he was also trying to convince himself.

" Really?" Derek raised an eyebrow. He obviously wasn't convinced.

" Yes. My feelings to her are 100% platonic" trying to further convince them.

" Your sad at the idea that she'd likely spend less time with you right?" Derek asked Spencer.

" Yes"

" Why would you be sad in the first place. You weren't sad when JJ started spending less time with you when she and William started to get serious"

" That's different. The dynamic that I have with JJ is different from the dynamic I have with (y/n)"

" Oh really, how so?" a smug tone was now evident in Derek's voice.

" I don't know," Spencer was somewhat frustrated with this interrogation that Derek was conducting.

" The way I see it is your jealous of the idea of her spending time with someone else because you want her to use that time with you"

" That doesn't prove that I have a crush on her," Spencer tried to rebuttal.

" That's not the only thing pretty boy, you also bought drinks and foods for her just so you could spend time with her. You spend most of your time talking and thinking about her. Which is exactly what we're doing right now," Derek continued listing all the other signs that proved that Spencer had a crush on you.

" Well, there you go. All the signs of a crush. Therefore you have hots for (y/n)," Derek teased Spencer.

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe he did have a crush on you.

Shocked at the newfound feelings he had for you, he decided to take a sip of the coffee he bought. He stopped drinking when he realized that this wasn't his drink, but rather Gracia's. He was contemplating if he should return it or wait for Garcia to retrieve her rightful drink. However, since it's been a good 15 minutes since his visit to Garcia's office, he knew he would have to make the first move.

" I'll be right back. I accidentally took Garcia's drink."

Once spencer was out of hearing range, Emily started her own little interrogation.

" Hey! I thought we ALL agreed that (ship name) should and will happen. It was Garcia who came up with the name for goodness sake. Why would she Garcia set (y/n) with somebody else?"

" Trust me Harvey is not who you think he is"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At this point in time, he thought all conversations of Harvey would halt. He was so wrong. But what he heard this time, made him sick to his stomach.

" If I play my cards right, I should be able to propose in roughly two weeks. After proposing we'll get married after three days. Then I'll have Harvey as my beloved husband" Your chipper voice most likely reflected the immense joy that you were feeling. This was such a huge contrast to what he was feeling. He had this really uneasy feeling in his stomach. A sense of hopelessness, anguish and despair took over his body.

This was a bad idea. You've only just started officially dating yesterday but now you have already planned to get married in less than a month. In their line of work, you should have known better than jumping into a relationship like that.

For a second he thought that this was simply jealousy speaking. Maybe it wasn't right to interfere. But after a second thought, he knew that this was crazy. He will try to talk you out of this little senseless escapade later. For now, he'd stick to his original plan

With a knock on the door, he made his entrance. He handed Penelope her correct drink and she returned his back. Thank whatever deities existed that prevented Penelope from taking a sip from spencer's coffee.

" Hey Spencie, since I should be getting back to my desk let's walk back together" Before even waiting for a response, you instantly made your way next to him. You both said your goodbyes to Garcia and made your way back to your desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since you planned on proposing to Harvey in two weeks, he knew he had to confront you today and the sooner the better. Throughout the whole day, Spencer has been meaning to talk to you. First, it was during your walk back to the desks. He thought he could broach the subject, however, since it was the end of lunch hour a whole slew of people was in the halls. He couldn't have a private conversation with you.

He made another attempt when he saw you alone in the break room. Even though the break room had an open concept, it was already 5pm therefore half of the people on this floor had already left. Though he wanted to have this conversation in private, this opportunity was better than nothing. He was about to get up from his desk but then he saw Anderson making his way to the break room. He then started a conversation with thus ruining his chances to talk to you ALONE in the break room.

Alright, third times the charm. There he stood outside the door of your apartment. He was kind of hoping you wouldn't be home however he could see the light coming through from under the door and hear your footsteps from inside. He was practically shaking like a leaf, his hands were clammy and rehearsing was he was going to say under his breath. It's now or never.

DING DONG

Once he rang the doorbell, his heart had begun pounding rapidly and a sense of doom began to surface. A part of him wanted to make a run for it, in fact, he was about to make a run for it. But then the door opened.

" Hey Spencie, surprise to see you here. What brings you here at night?" Spencer had been practising on what he was going to say to you the whole day. Before reaching your apartment he had already decided which version of the speech he wanted to say. But now standing here and seeing you in your pyjamas, he ended up fumbling with his sentences. It was a mess.

Your face contorted in confusion, no denying you were puzzled at the words Spencer was trying to say. However, since you were only wearing your pyjamas and still standing at the door, the night air started nipping at your skin. Since the cold was starting to get to you, you invited Spencer inside. Hopefully, he'll be able to properly compose his word inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer was currently sitting on your couch while you were in the kitchen brewing up some coffee. He felt somewhat defeated since he couldn't get the right words out. His shaking hands were the evidence of his nervousness. He needed to calm down.

Breathe in

Breathe out...

Breathe in

Breathe out...

You did always say the breathing exercises did help calm your nerves. Now he was a little bit more calmed and composed. His hands were a little bit shaky but definitely more steady. Rehearsing what he was going to say, he felt like he was ready. He planned to say something around these lines:

1. Tell her what you overheard. Don't forget to apologize for listening to their private conversation.

2. Congratulate you on your new relationship.

3. Try to find out more about Harvey. Maybe she'll tell him something about the relationship that is a major red flag (besides the upcoming proposal)

4. Tell her about overhearing her wanting to propose. Don't forget to apologize again for snooping on a private conversation.

5. Try to put a stop to the engagement. Statistical facts would help to suede her to not propose.

In the many versions of his speech, he did include confessing his feelings but decided against it. It would have been selfish of him to do so. If you did find your true love he'll try to support you the best he can, even if it kills him. But he definitely could not support you in getting married so soon into a relationship. Even if he didn't have feelings for you he would still try to talk you out of it; it was a crazy idea in general.

His internal speech rehearsal was interrupted when he heard the door's of the kitchen opening and the closing. You made your way to the couch with two mugs in hand, you handed spencer's his coffee and set yours onto the coffee table.

" At first I thought your surprise appearance was because you wanted to hang out. But seeing you agitated and fumbling with your words, there's obviously something you want to tell me," Although your voice was calm and soothing, he couldn't help but feel like he was being called out, it just made him nervous.

Nervous to the point where he decided to forgo his original plan

" You can't marry him!!!" Spencer burst out to you.

" I'm sorry, Marry? Marry who exactly?"

" Harvey. I sorry but I overhear your conversation with Garcia earlier. I heard how to were going to propose to Harvey in two weeks"

"Spencer," You called his name in order to stop him. it didn't work.

"From what I heard you only began officially dating yesterday. Also congratulations to that"

"Spencer"

"But I think it's way too soon to propose"

"Spencer"

"Did you know that research surveyed 3000 people, those that dated one to two years dropped their likelihood of divorce by 20 percent at any given time point and those who dated three or more dropped to 50 percent. And..."

" SPENCER!!!"

Spencer stopped his ramble midway. The room became silent. But then your laughter broke said silence.

" Spencer I think you need a little bit more context," you said while rubbing the tears from your little laughing session. "I think instead of telling you maybe you should meet Harvey"

You went to your room to retrieve your laptop to bring it to the living room. Then, you made him sit right next to you so he could see your screen. After clicking on an icon of a chicken on your desktop, the screen opened up to a quaint tune played and the word 'Stardew Valley' appeared. At this point, Spencer was already able to piece it together.

On the screen, your farmer woke up from their bed

HARVEY

Then you had your farmer water the crops that were growing

IS

Then your farmer made their way to the town

The farmer then heads to the clinic. You then click on a brown hair character.

A

"Spencer say hi to Harvey"

On the screen out pops out a dialogue box. Next to the dialogue was a pixelated art of a man with a moustache and glasses. At the bottom of the image was the name of the character: Harvey.

VIDEOGAME CHARACTER

Harvey is a videogame character

Spencer felt a wave of embarrassment wave throughout his body. This moment could easily topple the ranks of Spencer's other embarrassing moments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Judging by the prominent blush on his face and the lack of eye-contact, you could tell that he was embarrassed by this predicament.

" So let me get this straight, you thought I was gonna marry someone I've only been dating for less than a month. And you came here to talk me out of it?" confirmation of his action would help understand this situation better. Plus it was cute to see him blush.

" Yes," he answered timidly.

" In our line of work, I don't think so," hopefully a joke would bring back his spirits.

" That's what I thought of too" Spencer chuckled.

The feeling of comfort was present in the room. Now would be a perfect time, here goes.

" You wanna know why out of all the other town's folks, Harvey was the one I choose"

Spencer gave you a confused look

"Cause he's one who's the most like you. You're both shy, love your coffee way too much and plus you kinda look alike. I guess what I'm trying to say is the reason I'm dating Harvey is cause he's just like you. And I uhh.... really wanna date you cause I like you," now it was your turn to avoid eye contact and fumble with your words.

Throughout your confession, Spencer just sat there quietly with his mouth agape. " I completely understand if you don't feel the same, we can continue to be just friends if you want..." you continued on using whatever reassurance needed to be said in order to save your friendship.

Your little ramble stopped when Spencer uttered these beautiful words:

" I feel the same way. I like you too"

With the two of you knowing your true feelings for one another, you looked at each other with a loving look. "So now that I know I don't have to compete with Harvey, How would you like to go out on a date with me?" Spencer asked.

" I'd loved to go on a date with you"

[sinner-as-saint]

Power Over Me - 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Run-through: CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dom. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect sub. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are well connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in almost every way…

Themes throughout the series: dom/sub dynamic, smut, dirty talk, angst, fluff

Bucky let out a sigh of boredom and tiredness as he walked into the club.

He unbuttoned his suit and thanked himself for having left his tie in the car itself because he truly, desperately needed to relax after an entire week’s work. Being the CEO of his own flourishing company was nice and all, but managing all those branches and employees and partaking in all those meetings and conferences all the time were taking a toll on him.

Yet, he walked in with a little hope in his heart. A hope, which only diminished as time went on. Bucky had everything; money, power, respect. But he was incomplete. He was a dom, and his last relationship with a sub happened five long years ago. He’s had casual, normal sex countless times since but he was never satisfied. Never truly satisfied.

Bucky walked into the dimly lit BDSM club, which was owned by one of his close friends who shared the same lifestyle as him. The only difference was, all his friends had their subs, only Bucky didn’t.

The club was more or less like an elite, private strip club – only instead of strippers and dancers, there were subs who waited to be chosen by which ever dom would like to have some private time with them. Or play a scene in the playrooms. At the end of the night, there was always a line up – where doms chose who they were interested in. Bucky had been here countless of times, but no one ever caught his attention. He never felt drawn to any of the girls.

See, Bucky was a slightly more complex man. He was what one calls a soft dom. His friends, who all shared the same lifestyles, playfully teased him about it all the time. But Bucky never changed despite the jokes. He wasn’t like other doms who were into public humiliation, or hardcore scenes, or who had strict regimes and timetables for their subs to follow.

Of course, Bucky did have his fair share of rules set and ready for whenever he’d find his perfect girl but they were rules which could be bent. He believed it’d be much more enjoyable and fun that way.

 The atmosphere of the club was similar to how it always is. Some doms took part in scenes with one or more than one subs in one of the many open play spaces; which Bucky was never necessarily fond of. He had attended many scenes, but he was never one to take part in it. There were equipment scattered nicely around the room. Most people were in the lounge area, on the dark red couches and chairs; subs on their doms laps, or other knelt beside their masters. Everyone was doing their own thing, playing roles in a healthy, consensual manner, knowing that this was their safe, little secret space.

And there Bucky was. Lonely even though he was surrounded by people. As he looked around, seeing the expression of content and delight on all the other doms’ faces, it did make him envy them a little.

I would treat my sub much better than they treat theirs. If I had one. His inner voice spoke up.

He walked further in, eventually joining his friends at a table. People walking around, especially the women threw curious glances at him. Some were provocative, some were less. Everyone was dressed differently; some in suits, ladies in gowns, subs in anything ranging from latex lingerie to nothing at all. It used to be overwhelming, but now it wasn’t. He was comfortable, right in his element. Just lonely.

He was in the middle of a conversation with Sam when someone, out of nowhere, caught his eye.

Wearing a short, but not too revealing, figure hugging brown dress; you stood by the stairs which led to the private playrooms upstairs. Alone, with your head hung low, fingers intertwined; you stood politely. It seemed as though you were waiting for something, or someone. Bucky watched you. Five minutes went by and no one, no man approached you.  

Bucky eyed you a little more for a while. You had no collar on. Your hair was perfect, he could only imagine burying his entire face in it or wrapping it around his fist and tug on it. He could imagine how pretty you’d look on your knees. You shyly looked up for a brief moment, and Bucky’s breathed hitched in his throat at the sight of your face.

Oh my. What a lovely girl!

He tried to shift his focus back on what Sam was talking about but he couldn’t. He was bewitched. In a trance. Like he had found all the answers he ever looked for. After five long years, something sparked in him. A desire, or a need rather. A need to have you, and have you hand over your control to him. Just one look and Bucky longed, he yearned for something he hadn’t even touched, or experienced yet – you.

He got up from his table after a few minutes, and made his way to you. Your head was still hanging low, so you didn’t notice his arrival until you realized you were looking at a pair of dark shoes.

 You tensed up immediately, knowing that someone stood in front of you. You wanted so bad to just lift your head up and see what he looked like, but you couldn’t. Never make eye contact unless you’re told to. You had been trained so, years ago, by your previous Master.

Bucky scanned you one more time; definitely no collar, no necklace with initials on, no bracelet – nothing. Perfect. You weren’t taken… yet.

He spoke up. “Hello beautiful, what’s your name?” he asked, softly. His voice almost made you tremble, in a good way; you weren’t trembling in fear in front of him like you did with your previous Master. But you didn’t reply, instead you shifted your gaze back and forth from his shoes to yours. You waited.

Bucky realized that you must be one of the subs who received very stern training. So he spoke up again. “You may speak, sweetheart.” He said, and expected a reply this time. He watched you intently as you parted your lips, your tongue quickly wetting them before you replied to his question.

“Y/N.” you politely said your name. Your voice sent chills throughout his body. It had been long, too long since he’s been with a sub. Bucky feared he might be rusty, but seeing how your body reacted to his presence alone, he was sure he did just fine.

He chuckled lightly, in an approving manner. “That’s a pretty name. Would you, Y/N, like to accompany me upstairs?" he asked again, referring to the private playrooms upstairs. You were quiet, processing. He was leaving the decision on you? How odd. Your previous Master never did so.

All Bucky got was silence. Part of him was disheartened immediately, thinking you would reject him. Then he remembered, “You may speak when asked a question, doll.” His tone was just a little less playful than previously. It was an insignificant change, but you caught it. Just like you did when your previous Master’s mood changed, you always caught and dreaded the change in his voice.

Calm down, this isn’t him. This isn’t him. This isn’t him.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all, Master.” You replied, somewhat monotonously. There was something about how you responded which didn’t sit too well with Bucky. Subs were usually excited and glad and looked forward to playtime, instead you seemed… afraid? He was sure he’ll figure it out by the time you were upstairs.

“Look at me.” He said, softly. You hesitantly looked up to meet a pair of pretty eyes. James Barnes? You had heard of him, even saw him at the club a few times. Oh lord was he handsome from up close! You lowered your eyes immediately, in fear. Never stare, it’s rude. You had been trained so. Bucky frowned. “I said look at me, doll.” his voice was much firm but he didn’t sound mad, not in the least.

You looked up again, and held his stare this time. You were shy, he could tell. He extended his arm for you to take. You placed the palm of your hand in his warm, larger one. “You will address me as ‘Sir’, understood angel?” his voice was calming, weirdly.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.” He smiled.

Bucky led you upstairs and into one of the private rooms. It was nice and cozy inside, dimmed lights – dimmer than downstairs, comfortable couches, lots of pillows and equipment and other toys. You were very much familiar with these rooms; you’ve been here before many times.

You hung your head low again, waiting for his instructions. He locked the door, let go of your hand, walked in and stopped in the middle of the room then turned around to face you.

“Kneel.” He said, using the same calm and collected voice from before. He wasn’t too overpowering, he was easing you into this, you could tell. You hurried and dropped to your knees on the floor right before him.

You waited. He scoffed, as if disapproving of something. You trembled, wondering what you had done wrong. You replayed the past few minutes over and over again as he moved away from you, walking over to the couch. Was he leaving? Why do you act like you’re stupid at times, huh? Your previous master’s harsh words echoed in your head. And you got all teary eyed just thinking about the man and how he handled your “stupidity.”

Bucky reached for a pillow. “Don’t you know you have to kneel on a cushion, you silly baby? Else, you’re gonna bruise your knees. We don’t want that, do we now doll?” he grabbed the soft pillow and walked back to where you knelt on the floor. Bucky didn’t think twice before squatting down and placing the pillow on the floor for you to kneel on. No dom had ever gotten on his knee for your comfort ever before, this was new to you.

But even then, he noticed you remained unmoving in your spot. He looked up to find you all teary eyed, and tensed. He reached out to touch your chin, you flinched at first – due to not so pleasant past experiences with impatient doms – but you recovered once you felt his soft, caring touch. You looked into his piercing but soft eyes, and you looked away immediately; unable to handle the intensity of it all.

When you looked down, you noticed the pillow. And you quickly scooted forward and knelt on it instead of the cold, hard wooden floor. “Sorry, sir.” Your voice trembled a little. Your hands were shaking a little, and Bucky noticed. He didn’t like it.

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted your head up so you had no choice but look at him. “Who did this to you?” he asked, waiting for an answer.

Bucky could clearly see that someone must’ve taken advantage of you, or they must’ve treated you poorly. You were so tensed and scared. You understood what he meant by the question, and many memories came flooding back in. Memories of him. Your previous Master. The first master who claimed you, collared you, trained you and the only one to have done so up till now.

You looked into Bucky’s eyes and wondered what to say.

“Tell me, baby.” he urged you to talk. Baby…

You fidgeted in your spot, your heels digging into your butt cheeks. “My… master. The one, um, I was with before. He…” you trailed off, not knowing how to describe him. Was rough? Too rough? Didn’t care about boundaries, didn’t respect limits? Didn’t believe in aftercare? There was so much you could say about him but you couldn’t vocalize it all.

You didn’t have to. Bucky understood. He had seen cases like these, where one wanna-be, terrible dom messes up and scars a sub for life. Bucky was angry, not at you, but at whoever the hell it was who had taken advantage of your submission, instead of cherishing it. The idiot, whoever he was, must’ve made you think that doms were to be feared. When in reality, that wasn’t the case. That was never the case.

Oh my sweet, sweet angel… Bucky’s heart broke just looking at your broken state. You were lost, confused between what you wanted and what not, what you could do and what not. You had been fed lies about this lifestyle, and in that moment Bucky knew he could never let you go. He couldn’t leave you, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.

Bucky didn’t let go of your chin, and you were alright with that. You let him. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning in closer to you, “it’s okay, my little pearl. There’s no need to be afraid anymore. I’m here, now. You’re here with me, don’t think about anything else.” He spoke, looking you deep in the eyes. He meant it all. “We’re here for you. For your pleasure, remember that.” he sounded so lovely and caring. “Nod if you understand.”

You nodded, wondering how could it be that you relaxed just by looking into his eyes. He was… calming. All of him was; his voice, his stance, his demeanor – he dripped of power and authority but he was also nurturing and sweet. A deadly combo. But a great one.

“Good girl.” He complimented you. You could see the stark difference between him and your previous Master. With the latter, compliments were rare, so rare. Practically non-existent. But with Bucky… he complimented you just for nodding. You felt warm and good; something you hadn’t felt in years.

You realized then that you wanted him. Bad. You needed him.

“Now tell me, sweetheart,” he spoke slowly. “What to do want?” he urged you to answer. He waited, longing to hear those words from your pretty lips.

“To please you, sir.” You answered. Warmth washed over both of you. Bucky smiled, and moved his hand from your chin to your hair. He slid his fingers into your hair gently, massaging your scalp for a few moments before standing up again.

He looked down at you, as you slowly lowered your eyes, focusing back on his shoes. “Go ahead, angel.” He gave you the green light. And you tried your hardest not to seem impatient as you unbuckled his pants and lowered it just enough to free his cock. The sight of his thick cock had your mouth watering in need, but this wasn’t about you. This was about showing him how well you could please him. And you intended on leaving a good impression.

“Open up, sweetheart.” He watched how you parted your lips and inched forward; wrapping your hands around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip.

Bucky slid his hand into your hair and grabbed a fistful of it; tugging on it gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth just a little, the rest he left it up to you, for you to take at your own pace. “Don’t rush baby, take your time. I’m right here with you.” He whispered, with his cock halfway into your mouth.

You didn’t waste any time, inch by inch, you took him in. He fit, surprisingly, into your mouth perfectly, despite his delicious size. You looked up at him, he threw his head back and exhaled loudly. He looked back down at you. “Be a good girl for me, come on.” He said, softly.

You hollowed your cheeks and bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in and out of your mouth, he hit the back of your throat each time you took him in.

You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked majestic. “Fuck…” he moaned and you quickened your pace. “That’s it, sweetheart.” He whined and looked down at you. “Oh look at you go.” He sounded breathless.

His taste invaded your senses. And you liked it. Oh you liked it. The sounds leaving his mouth fueled the fire in you. You were doing that. You were making him feel good like this.

He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock, and how your mouth stretched and struggled just a little to accommodate him in your mouth. You looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, and complete at the same time.

You felt all of him against your tongue and you repeated your actions again and again, hollowing your cheeks. The gasps and moans which escaped his lips made you squirm and it only added to the dampness which was forming in your underwear. And his praises… oh his praises.

“You look so pretty on your knees, angel. So pretty.” He moaned and panted and tugged harder on your hair. “Come on that’s it, show me how much of a good girl you can be for me.” His words made you tremble in the best way possible.

Yes. Yes, I’ll be your good girl. All for you. You felt it then, the connection. You wondered if he felt it too. The need to give in to him burned inside you. You wanted to surrender completely, to him, his praises, his loving words. He was so kind, so caring… so soft.

He quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of you; eager to chase his orgasm. He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. Your hands toyed with his balls, and he hissed. “That’s it, my angel. Come on, take me. Take all of me.” He murmured, urging you to speed up.

Bucky gently pushed your mouth down on his cock, you struggled to breath for just a second but then you grew accustomed to it. You relaxed your throat and allowed him in deeper into your mouth. The sounds he made were glorious.

He swore under his breath as you took him out and dragged your tongue over the slit on his tip very lazily before taking him back into your mouth and suck on his cock until he felt his orgasm building nicely. He looked down at you. So perfect. So perfect it hurt, and he just wanted to take you away from here, away from everyone else’s hungry gaze and protect you with his life.

He pulled himself out of your mouth abruptly, and tugged gently onto your hair, which was wrapped around his fist. Your spit mixed with his cum coated your lips, your eyes watered just a little and he chuckled when he saw the excitement in your eyes. You gasped as he pushed two fingers past your lips. You welcomed them in and treated them the same way you had worshipped his cock merely seconds ago.

Bucky watched with his own lips parted. Fuck… his cock twitched, missing the warmth and softness of your wet mouth already. “Will you be a good girl and swallow all that I give you, doll?” he asked, chest heaving a little, he was on the edge, you could tell.

You nodded frantically, his fingers still in your mouth. “Answer me, baby. Will you?” he asked again, removing his fingers to let you talk.

“Yes sir.”

He didn’t waste any time, he pushed himself back into your mouth and let you do your thing. You welcomed his familiar taste and size.

You wrapped your arms around his thighs and sucked on his cock until he came; spilling his warm load down your throat. You focused on swallowing all that he gave you. He came with a moan and a sigh, closing his eyes and relishing the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him. You swallowed all of him, licked him clean and zipped his pants back up and buckled his belt again.

And you waited, still on your knees on the cushion before him. He smiled down at you, enchanted. I found you.

“You did so good, angel. You were perfect.” He ran a hand lazily over your hair, smoothing it down given it had gotten all messy since he tugged on it. Once he was done, he spoke again. “Stand.”

You listened, and kept your head down. “Time to go downstairs now baby, okay?” he gently caressed your cheek. You looked up, and he could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, sir.”

 ---

You two got downstairs, and he before he could say anything to you, you were pulled away from him by one of the managers of the club. Bucky could only watch as the middle aged woman dragged you away from him, chiding you for being late or something of that sort. Bucky was confused for a minute. He was initially planning on asking you if you’d like to come home with him. But before he could, you were taken away from him to God knows where. Then he realized.

Oh no. They were taking you to the line-up.

 The line-up was nothing new to you. You visited the club weekly for years now, you had gone on that stage so many times to line up with all the girls who were at the club. There was not much to do once you were on stage, you just had to stand there and let the men or the couples choose whoever they liked.

You wondered if Mr. Barnes would be in the audience. Would he? No, he must have found someone else by now. Men like him wouldn’t waste time on line-ups. Regardless, the hope burned in a corner of your heart.

The line-up was important, whoever got chosen the quickest got paid the most by the club. If not, then you return home empty handed. Home… you didn’t have a home. Home is where you’re supposed to feel safe, and happy and loved. What you had close to that was a shabby apartment that you share with 2 other roommates.  

As the manager tugged you rather harshly along to get you to the line-up in time, you did more thinking. Most girls when they get chosen go immediately with the one who chose them. Then they come back, usually after a couple of weeks.

Or sometimes the masters shared and exchanged amongst themselves, with consent of the sub obviously. One girl, however, stayed for longer with a dom once. 3 months. Everyone thought she would never return, that she had found her one true dom, her master. Which is what every girl here dreams of – finding the right one. To surrender to, to give up complete and utter control to. Someone to complete them. You longed for that too, silently.

Earlier, with Mr. Barnes, you had had a brush with what that feeling might be like. To feel complete. To feel joy and happiness in pleasuring your dom. In surrendering to him, letting him know it was okay for him to play with you as he pleased.

Oh Mr. Barnes… you were so lost in thoughts of him that you didn’t realize you weren’t walking anymore. The manager wasn’t tugging on your arm. She stood still, speaking to someone on her phone. You were right there, so you eavesdropped.

“Who did?” she spoke through the phone. “What’s the name?” she paused. Then her eyes widened, “Oh.” And she seemed like she was trying very hard not to look your way.

What?

“Did he really?” she spoke again, and paused. “Damn. Tell him I’ll be right there. Yes, I’m bringing her along.” She ended the call rapidly.

Her? Were they talking about you?

She turned to you. “Change of plans, no need for you to get to the line-up.” She said, dragging you to the opposite side of the stage where the line-up is usually held up.

“What? Why?” you thought of everything all at once. What is happening?

The manager turned to look at you briefly, and you saw something resembling envy in her eyes. Envy? Really?

“Because someone already wants you.” Her words echoed in your head.

Someone…wants you…

Could it be… could it be Mr. Barnes? Oh…

[bakugohoex]

you asked for horseface reqs? 😼😼 n e ways let’s spice it up w some angst okay reader and jean have had feelings for each other for a reaaallyy long time but they won’t admit it (especially the reader because she’s scared she’ll get hurt if he loses him one day) but the time when she finally admits her feelings it’s when she gets killed trying to protect jean from an attack during the marley arc

“this might be the end for me, but jean, oh god, jean you meant everything to me”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: angst, language, last kiss, violence and some season four stuff but i haven’t read the manga so this is from the information of wikia, go cry please 

word count: 2200+

a/n: someone sent a similar request so i incorporated this one with that one as well, if you guys want to see the request here it is, it is quiet similar, i dislike writing angst but i was sad so i thought it was a good time to write it

summary: in which you and jean have had crushes on each other since the first day you met, instead of admitting your feelings, you both waited till you knew you’d have a secure future, and the invasion of liberio, in your final minutes you confess it all

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Wildflowers bloomed from the soil, the sun peaked through the fog and the birds chirped loudly at the sound of shouting. The first time you met Jean Kirschtein, the sound of Shadis headbutting the brunette, he held his face after his cocky remark of joining the military police. You stood firm lazily gazing at him, there was something to him, you didn’t know what it was, but he had something to him. You thought you two would never become friends, but instantly becoming friends with Armin and Marco you seemed to be surrounded by those who would be in the top ten.

You never wanted to join the military police, they were all scared little freaks who only cared about money and living a secure life. There was no fun it, you had been with Jean, when Marco had been found dead. He collapsed right on top of you and instantly knew that you two were bound together, the feelings of hurt seeing Marco dead in front of you.

It wasn’t something you ever wanted to see, and you never wanted to see one of your comrades die ever again.

He looked at you after the body count of Trost had been announced, “I’m joining you in the survey corps.”

You were shocked to say the least, the man who had been adamant on joining the military police had switched sides out of vengeance from what you could assume. You went up to him, your hand cupping his face, “I know you want to avenge Marco, but make sure you’re doing this for yourself.”

“I know.” He spoke quietly, his face nuzzling into your palm, you stood there feeling fresh tears come out of his eyes. Tears fell out of your own, as you both stayed there crying and holding each other, needing the comfort after your friends death.

The four months went by quickly, with Eren turning into a titan, finding out about Annie, Berthold and Reiner. It was a traitorous act and you wanted to kill them all, it was the only thing that filled your mind once you had found out about it. But there was something more you had now, you spent more and more time partnered with Jean and every day you seemed to fall more and more in love.

You were aware that you had prominent feelings from the boy, the first time these feelings erupting the second day of training when you got partnered up. He had helped you with a technique that you had seen Annie do. Not only were you surprised by his help but also how he engaged in your life when you talked about your past. He wasn’t the cocky bastard he had been the night before and you fell for him instantly, the way even though he seemed selfish he still cared and especially after being a leader in Trost you began to admire him even more.

You both grew closer and closer and evidently; the rest of the survey corps had noticed your feelings. Often teasing you both any possibility they could get, you both acknowledged something was there but never acted upon it. Feelings and emotions, it got in the way of fighting Titans, and the risk of losing one another in a relationship hurt more than it would if you two remained friends. There would be nothing holding the two of you back when going to fight Titans. But even then, you both still pined and worried for one another when you got separated.

It remained both your thought process for the next four years until the raid on Liberio occurred, the day that you regretted not confessing it all. The corps had all arrived in Marley and the raid had begun, both you and Jean had grown into warriors, with no mercy and a mission to get on with. The two of you were on separate sides, you prayed he would be fine, remembering a conversation that had had hours prior.

“Y/n, can we talk?” Jean spoke away from the group, he was so much taller than you now, his brunette hair a lot longer and the rugged look he had made you fall even more in love. Even after six years everything about him made your heart melt.

“Sure.” You were wearing the new black gear, it fitted you perfectly and Jean tried to not admire you.

“I just want to say good luck, I know we’re on opposite sides which never occurs with us but stay safe.”

You laughed at his consistent hesitance to speak, “come on Jean, you know me, I wouldn’t die without you by my side.”

You spoke light hearted but he looked at you tense, “don’t die at all without me.”

“I pinkie promise I won’t die without you.” You put your pinkie out, he rolled his eyes taking the pinkie.

You let go first walking back, “I love you Y/n.” He whispered, it wasn’t audible, and you would’ve never heard it.

You were alongside Mikasa, both of you fighting the Marleyans together, you noticed the Cart Titan, its jaws wide to eat any of you guys up. You were shocked having not seen it in years now, that wasn’t the only shock you got hearing a rumble at the sound of the Beast titan appearing, it looked even taller than the first time you had seen it. It came even more closer and closer towards you both, you saw its arm come closer and closer to you and Mikasa.

You both barely missed his arm swing, before you felt it again, your stomach churned as those around you went full throttle at the Titan, you attached your ODM gear onto its arm that had kept swinging. You thought you had somewhat of chance, but you didn’t expect to see him grab onto the gear with his other hand.

Holding you in mid-air, you could feel the air being squeezed out of you. “P…please.” You tried pleading, kicking and screaming, all you could think about was the promise you made to Jean. “I’m not going to die.” You shouted, feeling your bones being crushed, you grabbed one of the blades, dragging it down his hand, you slid down, out of his grip. You choked needing air, Mikasa grabbing you to help you up.

“Y/n, we need to get to the other side.” You nodded, moving to the other side you tried to stay out of the Beast titans way, seeing as your comrades got shot down.

You finally saw Eren in titan form, knowing you were close to where you were supposed to meet. You saw Jean swing past a smirk on his face, but as he saw you a worried look at how damaged and disbelieved you looked. You knew you’d have to explain later, the way he looked at you melted your insides. Even after the many years he still saw you as the prettiest girl alive and would do anything for you.

You stared at the boy, but what you hadn’t realised whilst being in the air was how the Beat titan had charged towards you. Jean noticed shouting your name, but you heard nothing, feeling the Beast titan, grab onto you, this time you had nothing. You were vulnerable, you saw Jean come up trying to rescue, instead of crushing you, it instead threw you into a building.

Tears filled your eyes whilst in the air, you felt like you had been punched in the gut, before hitting the building, your insides bleeding and the way your side and legs were met with slits from the building that conveniently had sharp spikes in it. You slid down from the roof your body limp as you felt nothing. Just as you were about to reach the bottom, Jean swung past grabbing you before you were out.

“Y/n, Y/n, come on wake up.” You heard Jean speak as he took you into an alleyway. “Y/n, come on.”

The pleading nature of him being heard but you were unconscious and unable to move, everything hurt, and you refused to open your eyes and move. Your body was deteriorating, and you could feel every bit of it. “Y/n, come on, our promise, you said you wouldn’t die without me, don’t die on me.”

You heard it all, you wanted to say you were okay. But you weren’t, you were dying in front of him, he had tried to help stop the bleeding, but being crushed and thrown around, your body was failing on you.

You woke up, everything hurting, still in the alleyway, Jean looked at you, his hand in yours. “Y/n, don’t move, it might hurt.”

You started to cough, he was about to let go of your hand to get some water from his side, but you grabbed his hand softly, “Jean, i...I’m going to die.”

He looked at you shock on his face, “Y/n, you…you’re fine, don’t say that.”

“Jean, the beast…” You stated to cough again, but you kept a hold of his hands preventing him from leaving, if these were your last moments then you knew you’d want it to be with Jean. “…the beast titan, he crushed all my bones, I’ve lost too much blood and this.”

You gestured to your now exposed side seething in blood and your legs that had been attacked by the hooks, the pain engulphed you and you needed something to preoccupy your emotions.

“Y/n, we’ll get to the walls, and they’ll…they’ll save you.”

“Jean.” You spoke softly, he saw how you looked more frailer and weaker every time you spoke. “Promise me, you’ll win and…and you’ll continue on with your life”

“Y/n, we’ll win.” Tears had formed in his eyes at how weak you had gotten. “and we’ll live a life together, you won’t die.”

A single tear went down your face, “Jean, I love you and I regret not telling you.”

He looked down at you, trying to wipe the tears that had formed on his own face before wiping the tears that had erupting from your face, “I love you too.”

“Fuck, it hurts.” You muttered. 

“Y/n, how can i…I help?” He didn’t want to admit you were about to die but if you were going to die, then he would make sure he remained by your side.

“Can you kiss me?” You asked, he tried to stop the tears, your hand had gotten colder, and the blood had seeped through the cloth that he had used to stop the consistent blood pouring from your body.

He helped you sit up right, sitting on his body, as you lazily looked up to his face, you spoke softly at the boy. “this might be the end for me, but jean, oh god, jean you meant everything to me”

“You were my world.” He whispered before the pain was becoming even more unbearable and you knew you had minutes at most.

His hands went to cup your face as he kissed you softly, bringing your mouth to his own it was everything you had ever dreamt of and so much more.

Memories filled your head, your first meeting with the boy, the countless times you were partnered up and then the time that would remain with you forever. The day when you had reached the ocean, you were glad you had experienced the sea, having played in the water with the boy. You remembered how you both had gotten soaked and how you continued to mess about, all the years of memories filled you in one single kiss.

Your hand rested on his cheek as you kissed back, your body dying on you ever so quickly, rubble poured from above, he let go softly looking at you, love and hope filled his eyes. He needed you to be okay, ideas in his head of how to help you, but as you spoke again, “I love…”

Nothing. No more words came from you and they never would. He would never hear your laugh, your voice, your scolding. He’d never feel you kick or hit him, never feel your soft touch on his. You  slouched onto his neck and a shout erupted from the man’s voice and even more tears flooded his face. Everybody had heard the screaming he held your dead body in his arms, the blood on his gear and body. He didn’t care, you had died in front of him and as he kept a hold of you, he could see the Eldian air craft, grabbing your body in his arms, he held you using his gear to get onto the ship.

You were gone forever, and he never got to ask you on a date, never got to kiss and show his love for you every day. He regretted never telling you, and as he brought you on the ship, he was met with every single person who had stuck by his side. You were in his arms limp and cold, they stared as his knees fell through, your body on the ground, eyes closed and face cold. He mourned the loss of the only person who he truly loved, he hadn’t protected you and now he had nobody.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[chloebeale]

i’m talking loud, not saying much

rating: G || words: 5.5k

bechloe week day two—bed sharing/one bed

read below or on ao3!

***

There is nothing—literally nothing—positive about this stupid new arrangement.

For the last few years, things have only seemed to go from bad to worse for Beca. First there was her deadbeat mother abandoning her, then her overzealous father ended up moving them from their quiet, comfortable hometown in favor of shacking up with Lady Tremaine—uh, Sheila, halfway across the damn country, and Beca’s life had effectively been thrown into a tailspin.

It is bad enough that she has to share a home with Sheila and her daughter, Juliet—unfortunately Beca’s age, unfortunately much taller, much prettier, much more popular than Beca—but to have to share a bedroom with her, too? God, that is...yeah, that is just the icing on this particularly terrible cake.

Now, she is expected to spend her free time with Juliet? When she really could’ve gotten their room to herself for the night?

Seriously, that is bordering on child abuse.

“I swear to God if you embarrass me…” Juliet mutters under her breath as they make their way up the winding path toward her friend’s obnoxiously large house, effectively breaking into Beca’s pity party of bitter thoughts. A long arm outstretches to drum a balled fist against the pristinely painted wood of the unfamiliar front door, and despite her sour mood over having to bring Beca along with her tonight, Juliet pushes a bright smile to her lips the second the sound of approaching footsteps begins to chime from the other side of the door.

Beca only rolls her eyes, thumbs looping through the straps of her backpack to hike it more comfortably into place.

Why she hadn’t protested more strongly before, she really does not know.

Beca usually loves Friday nights. Considering Juliet’s social status, she generally has Friday night plans, so Beca gets their shared room all to herself. It is just about the only time she ever has to unwind, in fact, but when her dad had made a big deal about how Beca needs to try to put herself out there and make some friends in Atlanta, and Sheila had suggested Juliet bring her along to Olivia’s sleepover tonight, no amount of groaning from either soon-to-be step-sister had been enough to shut their parents up.

“You’ll have so much fun, Bec! Sleepovers are great, you’ll really get to know all of the girls!” Her dad had stated much too enthusiastically while Beca had begrudgingly thrown items into her backpack.

“I hope you know I’m calling CPS later,” Beca had grumbled as she’d climbed without haste into the backseat of his car, earbuds quickly stuffed into her ears to drown out the sound of Juliet’s overly-peppy phone conversation radiating from the passenger seat.

That same pep—totally forced, Beca would argue; she has seen what a grumpy monster Juliet really is at home—returns effortlessly as the door swings open to reveal a beautiful brunette holding a bowl of what looks to be freshly popped popcorn in one hand and a brand new rose gold iPhone in the other.

“Jules!” Olivia greets pleasantly, though her expression falls slightly as her bright gaze shifts from Juliet’s dazzling smile and toward Beca’s tightened jaw. “Oh… You weren’t joking about bringing your sister.”

“Step-sister,” Beca grumbles quietly under her breath, gaze cast down toward her beat-up looking Vans. She can feel Juliet’s heated glare burning into the side of her head without even bothering to look up.

“Nope, not joking,” Juliet responds with a pop of the P, not-so-subtly shoving Beca out of the way to breeze into the house.

With a heavy sigh, Beca pushes away one last fleeting thought of turning and running away to sleep on the streets for the night, and forces herself to shuffle inside behind her.

“Guys, Jules is here!” Olivia announces as she leads the way through the entrance hallway and toward what Beca can only assume by the number of doors they pass is one of multiple living rooms. The other sleepover attendees erupt into a chorus of Juliet’s name, before Olivia continues, “And, uh…”

“Beca,” Juliet says through gritted teeth.

“Right, yeah,” Olivia nods, “her sister.”

Beca bites back the urge to correct her again—they are not sisters, they will never be sisters—and instead offers the room of expectant eyes a forced, tight-lipped smile, before she goes back to staring dutifully down toward her feet.

All anybody has to do is look around the room for half a second to see that Beca is entirely out of place among this particular group of people. They all sport full faces of makeup and wear their hair in neat, pretty styles, while Beca hides behind a layer of questionably thick eyeliner and limp tresses that have had nothing more than a comb pulled through them all day.

Unsurprisingly, none of the activities to commence now that they are all here—Juliet loves to be fashionably late—are of any interest whatsoever to Beca. She doesn’t care to call the boys they all think are sooo cute and promptly hang up when they answer, and when she refuses to pick dare on her second turn in Truth or Dare—she shrugged and said “pass” when asked if she’d ever ‘done anything with a boy’ after picking truth in the first round—they all seem to give up on halfheartedly trying to include her, so Beca shrugs and plugs her ears with her earbuds, and sits off to the side with her back to the couch, contentedly listening to music.

Beca can lose herself for hours in music. Among all of the huge, rapid changes in her life, especially in recent years, music has been her one constant. It is that one form of solace for Beca, so she doesn’t mind being left out, nor her presence being all but forgotten until she eventually has to answer nature’s call.

“Uh, where’s the bathroom,” Beca asks Juliet with a small tap on her shoulder, thumb sweeping over the pause button on her phone’s music player.

Clearly enraged to have been interrupted from her circle of friends, Juliet stares back at her with a face like thunder. “I don’t know. Go find it,” she scoffs, offering Beca nothing more than a shake of her head, before turning back to the talkative group.

Beca simply stares for a moment, before rolling her eyes hard enough that she can practically hear them rattling in her skull, then pushes herself lazily to her feet.

It is a big house—an obnoxiously big house, in fact—so it is probable that there is at least one bathroom on the ground floor, but Beca doesn’t feel like trying every door and potentially running into Olivia’s parents in one of the other living rooms, so she decides it is safer to check upstairs.

The first door she tries leads to an extravagantly decorated but empty bedroom, so Beca promptly steps back out and closes it behind her, before moving quickly onto the next. That one turns out to be another empty bedroom, too, so Beca hopes that it will be third time lucky, and meekly tries the next door.

This one is a bedroom, too, only this time, it is not quite empty, and Beca jumps slightly as she realizes she is intruding on someone’s personal space. “Oh, whoa. Sorry,” she says quickly, widened gaze landing on the sight of red curls and a nose buried deeply in a book.

“Hm?” The redhead questions, evidently too enthralled by her reading material to have even noticed Beca’s presence beforehand. Her eyes lift to land on the stranger in her room, though, and Beca finds herself slightly taken aback by just how intensely blue they are.

“Sorry,” Beca says again, her pale cheeks heating up with a splash of what she is positive is a very obvious shade of crimson. “I didn’t realize this was—I was looking for the bathroom.”

“Oh,” the other girl nods, neatly setting down her open book on the mattress before her. She offers Beca a friendly smile despite the intrusion. “That’s okay. The bathroom is two doors that way,” she says, pointing in the right direction.

Why Beca finds herself staring, she really does not know, but she catches herself after a short moment and quickly clears her throat. “Right, got it. Thanks.”

“Mhm,” the redhead smiles, bright eyes remaining on Beca. Beca is about to leave, though she notes the way the other girl seems to be studying her curiously, before piping up with, “Are you my sister’s friend? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, though realizes how bad that sounds and corrects herself quickly. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Or...I don’t know. My step-sister is friends with Olivia. She’s here for the sleepover, and my dad and her mom made her bring me.” As she speaks, Beca can hear just how ridiculously pathetic she sounds, and proceeds to mentally kick herself. “I guess I’m new to town or whatever.”

“Mm, that would explain why I haven’t seen you before,” the other girl nods, flattening her palms to the mattress to smoothly shift to her knees. “What’s your name? Or are you, like, peeing yourself and you have to leave right this second?”

“No,” Beca chuckles awkwardly, the bathroom almost forgotten about for a minute there. “No, it’s fine. I’m Beca,” she says. “My step-sister is friends with Olivia.”

“You said that already,” the redhead grins, to which Beca only mentally kicks herself again. “I’m Chloe, I’m actually Olivia’s step-sister, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Although she knows it is entirely possible for step-siblings to have healthy, good relationships, Beca can only assume judging from the scene before her that their situations may be somewhat similar. Chloe looks to be around their age, after all; surely she would be invited to the sleepover party going on in her home if she and Olivia were close, right?

“Mhm,” Chloe nods. “Which one is yours?”

Assuming Chloe is referring to which one is her step-sibling, Beca responds with an almost cautious, “Uh, Juliet Lyman.”

At that, Chloe immediately winces, and Beca cannot help the grin that breaks onto her lips in response.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says with an apologetic look. “That was super mean.”

“No, it’s okay,” Beca promises with another small chuckle, this one much less awkward sounding than the last. “She’s kind of a dick.”

While she still looks a little bashful, almost like she feels that she spoke—or winced—out of line, Chloe’s stiffened shoulders ease then, and she offers Beca a gentle nod of her head. “Mm, I guess that makes sense. None of Olivia’s friends are particularly nice.”

Like something of a vampire, Beca rarely enters a room without invitation, so it is almost surprising to her that she seems to shift slowly inside now, but Chloe doesn’t seem to be put off. If anything, she only sends Beca a friendlier smile, and nods as if to tell her it is okay.

“I guess you’re not having a ton of fun down there, huh?” Chloe says somewhat sympathetically, motioning toward the door for Beca to close it behind her.

“Uh, yeah, no, I guess you could say that,” Beca frowns, following Chloe’s silent instruction to close the door. Much too focused on the pretty redhead whose privacy she accidentally invaded, she hasn’t taken much time to really study the room, but her eyes do a quick visual sweep now, and she finds that, while still beautifully decorated much like the rest of the house, this particular bedroom feels much more comfortable, much more homey than anywhere else. So as not to seem like a total weirdo, however, she brings her gaze back toward Chloe, then drops it to the book flattened on the bed before her. “What are you reading?”

“It’s called Looking For Alaska,” Chloe explains with a brief motion toward the book. “It’s really good so far. I’m halfway through and I’m dying to see how it ends.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Beca nods. “Yeah. You should totally get back to that.”

“No,” Chloe shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t exactly enjoy being locked away in my room,” her nose wrinkles. “I actually kind of appreciate the company. There’s a bathroom right there, by the way,” she motions toward the adjoining ensuite, “if you still have to go.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Chloe flashes her another kind smile while Beca shuffles by the bed and toward the bathroom door, then disappears inside.

Unlike Chloe, who apparently appreciates awkward new company, Beca is definitely more of a lone wolf. She prefers her own space, and will generally engage in as little social interaction as possible, but she finds that she does not feel completely uncomfortable with Chloe. In fact, after being ignored for the last hour in a room full of people, she would go so far as to say she is actually kind of glad she walked in here.

Upon returning from the ensuite facilities, Beca wonders where to go from here. She wonders if it is weird to try to stick around, if she should begrudgingly go back downstairs and rejoin the party, but she finds that Chloe has pushed her book aside, and pats the mattress to invite Beca to sit.

“Are you sure?” Beca questions, though she makes her way toward the bed regardless.

“Totes,” Chloe nods. “I told you, I like the company, and you’re not having any fun down there, so.”

“True,” Beca agrees, shuffling over to plop neatly onto the end of the bed.

“Do you go to Barden?” Chloe asks conversationally, head tilted slightly and eyes trained curiously on Beca’s face. Again, she seems to be studying her, and Beca doesn’t quite understand why she is not more weirded out.

Beca frowns in response, though eventually nods her head. “Yeah, I do. I don’t really like it, though. My old school was...well, it was still high school. I guess I was just more comfortable there or whatever, though.”

“I get that,” Chloe says with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “We moved here halfway through freshman year, and I was super sad to leave my old school. It’s hard trying to fit into a new place where everybody already knows each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, a hard sigh escaping through her flared nostrils. “Tell me about it.” She pauses then, this time eyeing Chloe curiously in return. “Wait, but you, like, made friends since then, right? I mean, how long have you been here?”

“Oh, yeah, tons,” Chloe says with a nod of her head. “Just not Olivia’s friends. I’ve been here almost two years now.”

“So you’re a junior?” Beca asks, to which Chloe nods again. “Me too. It’s kinda weird I haven’t seen you around.”

“It is,” Chloe agrees, bright gaze still comfortably studying Beca. Eye contact has always been a difficult thing for Beca, but she finds that it is somehow easy to hold Chloe’s. “I definitely haven’t seen you at school, though. I feel like I would’ve remembered you.”

“Yeah?” Beca questions with an awkward laugh and a lift of her brow. “I’m not the most memorable of people.”

“I would’ve remembered you,” Chloe repeats, her curious expression smoothing into something of a somewhat knowing smile, under which Beca feels her cheeks rapidly beginning to heat up again. Chloe lifts a hand to motion toward Beca’s earbuds, the wire of which hangs limply down her chest. “What are you listening to?”

“Uh, I think it was David Guetta,” Beca responds with a scrunch of her nose. “I don’t remember, I turned it off before I came up here. I have Titanium stuck in my head, though, so it was probably that.”

“Titanium is awesome,” Chloe says with an approving smile as she scoots back to rest against the headboard with the pillows stacked up behind her. “Can we listen together?”

“Oh,” Beca glances toward the space beside Chloe. “Uh, sure. If you want.”

“I do,” Chloe nods, patting the empty spot for Beca to join her.

Shuffling to sit beside her, Beca arranges the spare pillows to make a backrest, then offers one of the wired buds out to Chloe, who takes it with a gracious smile, before slotting it into her ear. Beca does the same with the other, before hitting play on her phone screen. She had the volume up pretty loud before, but makes sure to turn it down a few notches as Titanium begins spilling through the buds in the place she’d left it off before.

“This was my audition song for the Bellas,” Chloe hums fondly, shoulders relaxing as she eases back more comfortably into her stacked pillows.

“The what?” Beca questions with a curious side glance.

“The Barden Bellas. It’s our school’s a cappella group. That’s actually where I met most of my friends.”

“A cappella,” Beca echoes, lips pulling inward in a failed attempt to bite back an amused smile. “Like...synchronized nerd singing?”

“It’s not nerd singing,” Chloe giggles, lightly swatting at Beca’s arm. “It’s fun. And all of the girls are super nice. We’re like a little family.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” Beca chuckles, and finds that she has very comfortably slotted into this little space beside a person who was a total stranger to her only moments earlier. It is an odd feeling for her, but it is certainly not an unwelcome one. “So, you sing?”

“I do,” Chloe says proudly. “I love to sing. Do you?” Before Beca gets the chance to respond, Chloe sits a little further upright, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, you should totes audition for the Bellas!”

“Whoa, slow down,” Beca warns with another amused chuckle. “I’m not nerd singing with anybody. Besides, I don’t even sing.”

“That’s a lie,” Chloe says, “everybody sings. Whether you sing well or not is another story, but everybody sings.”

“Yeah?” Beca lifts a brow. “Not me.”

“I bet you do,” Chloe counters, motioning toward Beca’s phone where the current track is winding down to its end. “I bet when you’re alone, you turn up the volume and you belt out this song to your empty bedroom.”

“Shut up,” Beca grumbles with a fond roll of her eyes and a hint of amusement lacing her grumbly tone.

While Chloe giggles quietly, she relaxes back into the pillows again. “You would love the Bellas. You’d make a ton of friends, and it’s super easy to sing when everybody else around you is doing it,” she says, reaching down to tap on the back-skip button on Beca’s screen, effectively restarting the song. “Sing with me. This can be your audition, and if you’re good, I’ll tell the others.”

“Dude, no,” Beca frowns, shaking her head as the beginning of the song starts to filter through her one earbud again.

“You interrupted my reading time,” Chloe states with a lifted brow and a smug smirk painting itself onto her lips. “The least you could do is sing with me.”

“Sing with you? Right now? That’s so weird. You’re so weird,” Beca says, her brow lifting the same way as Chloe’s. Despite her protests, she can feel her resolve softening already. Like Chloe whose last name Beca doesn’t even know apparently just has some kind of weird, calming spell on her. It helps that, despite saying she doesn’t sing, she actually very much does—and she is pretty freaking good at it, too.

“Just the chorus,” Chloe presses, pushing herself upright again and pointing animatedly toward her phone. “Look, it’s coming up. Just sing it with me.”

Beca scowls in response, so Chloe sends her a bright, encouraging smile, and when Beca does not outright protest again, Chloe excitedly nods her head.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Beca’s jaw sets for a second, but she can feel herself preparing to start singing. She has a feeling Chloe knows she is going to, too.

“I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose…” Beca starts through gritted teeth along with the song, though she softens some at the way Chloe’s eyes instantly light up all over again.

“Fire away, fire away,” Chloe chimes in, and Beca finds that she has to pause for a second, because even with the actual song filtering into one ear, she can hear how good Chloe sounds in the other. In fact, she can hear how good they both sound as they begin to effortlessly harmonize.

As the chorus ends, they both come to a stop, too, and Beca had not realized before, but it turns out that their eyes were trained on one another’s the entire time. She doesn’t quite register it until her gaze falls to Chloe’s excited smile—the same way she doesn’t register her own smile, though once she does, she quickly wipes it away.

“I knew you were lying,” Chloe says triumphantly. “I knew you could sing. And you sounded so good, too. You have to audition for the Bellas.”

In true Beca Mitchell fashion, Beca’s cheeks have heated up, though she hopes her frown will distract from the redness in her face. “What? Dude, I thought you said that was my audition.”

“So you want to join?” Chloe asks hopefully, to which Beca immediately pauses.

“I didn’t say that,” she eventually says, arms folding tightly across her middle.

“Well, I’m gonna tell the girls how good you are, and Aubrey—she’s our captain—will be on your case until you agree to join, so.”

“You’re so annoying,” Beca chuckles, sinking back against the pillows. “You’re really persistent, huh?”

“When I want something,” Chloe shrugs, trailing off to hum along quietly with the song.

“Yeah?” Beca lifts a brow. “And what do you want?”

“You,” Chloe says casually, and Beca’s mouth opens when that seems to be the end of Chloe’s response, though she pipes up again then, “to join the Bellas.”

“I—” Beca falters, and registers the way her heart rate has for some unknown reason increased slightly. She tells herself it is simply due to the impromptu duet—she may sing when she is alone, but she never does it in front of anybody, and certainly never with anybody—though she has an odd inkling that that is not solely the case. “I’ll think about it,” she grumbles, turning her focus to her phone screen.

Chloe grins brightly at that, clearly very pleased with herself. “Awes.”

For the next little while, they remain in their comfortable position side by side with their backs against the pillows, listening to Beca’s playlist and casually conversing. Much like she had found Chloe easy to be around right away, Beca finds that that same feeling only continues. In fact, it almost intensifies—it is not often that Beca Mitchell finds herself this comfortable with a new person, but she really is strangely comfortable with Chloe.

In fact, Beca doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until her phone screen lights up with a new text message notification, and she glances down with a frown when she sees who it is from.

Juliet where are you? i swear if you went home and told your dad we were leaving you out or whatever i’ll deny it and all of the girls will back me up

In response, Beca sucks in a deep sigh through her nostrils. “She’s so annoying,” she mutters, gaze flickering toward the much later time. She knows that she should probably leave, that she should go rejoin the party at which she was having absolutely no fun, but the thought of doing so is draining, and Beca sinks even further back into the pillows behind her. “God, I don’t wanna go back down there.”

“So don’t,” Chloe shrugs, glancing toward the open text message on Beca’s cracked phone screen.

“It’s, like, almost twelve,” Beca frowns, using one finger to lazily type out hanging with olivia’s step-sister in the chat bar. “You’re gonna wanna sleep, and I probably should, too.”

“You can sleep in here,” Chloe hums, stretching out her legs and wiggling her toes beneath her socks. The cartoon corgis adorning the fabric are pretty freaking adorable, though Beca totally won’t say so.

Instead, her brow crawls a little higher in response. “What, like in your bed?”

“You think I’m gonna make you sleep on the floor?” Chloe counters with a look of fond amusement.

“Uh, no,” Beca shakes her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s—dude, isn’t that weird?”

“You’re at a sleepover with a bunch of people you don’t even like, you were gonna be sharing a bed with at least one or two of them,” Chloe shrugs, then gently shakes her head. “It’s not weird, you can sleep in here.”

“Uh,” Beca pauses, thinking it over for a second. “Are you sure?”

“Totes,” Chloe nods, eyeing Beca for a moment. Her lips twist into something of an amused grin when she clearly notes her apprehension. “What, do you think I’m gonna try to make a move on you or something?”

Beca’s instant reaction is not the one she expects. She expects to splutter and for her tired eyes to shoot further open, but instead she only stares at Chloe with an arched brow. “I don’t know, are you?”

“What if I did?”

At that, Beca’s mouth hangs open slightly, the same way it had earlier. In response, Chloe only giggles brightly again, and Beca registers that there is something almost melodic about the sound. “I’m kidding,” she promises, amusement lacing her tone as she removes the earbud and begins to push herself up from the mattress. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Go grab your stuff and come back up here.”

Although Beca’s shoulders sag with something akin to relief, she doesn’t quite understand why a wave of disappointment washes over her, too. Does she want Chloe to make a move?

Does Chloe want to?

What even is a move, exactly?

Either way, Beca attempts a nonchalant shrug as she rises from the bed, a feeling of slight dread coursing through her at the idea of having to go back downstairs, even if only to grab her things.

It turns out, however, that the worry is needless, because nobody even entertains her with so much as a glance as she enters the large living room in pursuit of her belongings. Well, nobody but Juliet, and even then it is only for her to shoot Beca a quick glare before she goes back to talking to her friends.

Deciding that it might be a little weird to change for bed in Chloe’s room, Beca makes her way back up the stairs and toward the bathroom she hadn’t gotten to before. She momentarily holds her breath as she opens the door, worried about the idea of bumping into another peppy stranger, but it turns out to be the correct room, and Beca changes and washes up quickly, before making her way back to Chloe.

“Oh, whoa—” Beca’s response is much the same as last time, except this time she lifts a hand to quickly cover her eyes, the crimson color in her cheeks rising toward the tips of her ears.

“What?” Chloe questions, evidently entirely unperturbed despite Beca walking in on her in the process of pulling on her pajama top—under which she is not wearing a bra. “Oh… They’re just boobs.”

Beca practically chokes at that, blindly making her way into the room and shoving the door closed behind her. “Dude, I don’t need to see them.”

Chloe’s amused giggle rings through the air. “Sorry. In my defense, this is my room, and I figured you’d knock before you came in,” she says, taking a second or two to adjust her pajamas, before Beca hears her gliding toward the bed. “It’s safe for you to uncover your eyes.”

That considered, perhaps sharing a bed with Chloe for the night is not the most awkward thing anymore, so although cautiously, she lowers her hand from her face, lips pulled inward as she makes her way toward the bed. “I’m guessing that’s your side?” she asks, motioning toward the spot Chloe had taken before.

“Yep,” Chloe nods, peeling back the comforter to slip beneath it. “Sometimes I curl up in a ball in the middle, but I always at least start out on this side.”

Why the mental image is so cute to Beca, she opts not to question, and instead simply slides into the other side. “Cool. My bed’s a single, so I guess I don’t really have a side.”

“Single beds are super cozy,” Chloe hums, reaching behind herself to flatten the previously propped up pillows, before shuffling to make herself comfortable.

“They suck,” Beca frowns. “I’m actually kinda jealous of you with this. Your room is, like, bigger than my dad’s house, in fact.”

“Your dad’s house?” Chloe echoes, twisting onto her side once Beca has laid herself down, too. “It’s not your house?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Beca shrugs, automatically twisting her body to face Chloe.

In response, Chloe sends her a somewhat sympathetic smile, so Beca only shrugs once more. “How long have you been there?”

“Too long,” Beca grumbles, sticking one arm out of the comforter to rest her palm against the pillow by her head. Her cheek rests against the back of her hand, and Beca notes that she only feels more and more comfortable with Chloe by the second—and not just because of the ridiculously comfortable mattress. “About four months now.”

Chloe seems to consider for a moment, before eventually nodding her head. “You’ll start to feel better about it soon,” she promises in a softer voice, her hand reaching out to settle delicately over Beca’s for a short moment, before sliding it away.

It is interesting, the fact that her father has told her the same thing a million times, but that each time, Beca has only scoffed in response. For some reason, though, when it is Chloe telling her, Beca cannot help but believe her, and responds with a soft sigh, followed by a small smile of her own.

“I’m gonna turn out the light,” Chloe says, before commanding Alexa to do just that. Soon, the light in the previously bright room grows dimmer, until they are engulfed in a blanket of darkness—seriously, what a relief; Juliet makes them sleep with a night lamp on every night.

Considering it is still difficult, after four months of living there, for Beca to fall asleep in her bedroom, she expects it to be the same here. It is still something she considers unfamiliar territory, so Chloe’s room should be even more so, but as the room around her grows still, she finds that her eyes begin to grow quickly heavy. The soft sound of Chloe’s quiet breathing seems to help somehow, too.

“Beca,” she hears after a moment of silence, Chloe’s voice much softer than it was before.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for walking in here tonight,” Chloe continues, and soon Beca feels a hand laying across her own once more. Her natural instinct would normally be to pull away, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand why, she just...doesn't. “I really do appreciate the company.”

“Yeah?” Beca chuckles quietly, her own voice growing quieter with those telltale signs of tiredness. “It’s cool. I liked it, too.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums, the tips of her fingers stroking feather lightly over the back of Beca’s hand. Again, Beca does not pull away. In fact, she actually kind of likes it. “I really hope you do join the Bellas. I kind of wanna keep you around.”

Although she is positive Chloe just wants someone to add to their singing group, something about the statement causes Beca’s heart to flutter slightly. Honestly, she is just not used to someone actually wanting her around—it is not like Juliet does, and she is pretty sure Sheila doesn’t, either—but it is particularly nice to her that Chloe wants her around specifically.

“Ditto,” she mumbles, her thumb instinctively rising to brush softly over the side of Chloe’s pinky finger.

There is a stillness to follow, a calmness that Beca is not altogether used to, but again, it is something she welcomes. Something she has been yearning for for months now, in fact. No, years.

Although she feels sleep beginning to instantly overtake her, and she really doesn’t want to break the comfortable silence, a nagging voice in Beca’s head instructs her to do so. The kind that causes her heart to race again, and Beca licks over her now dry lips as she wonders if she will actually do it or not.

“Chloe,” she murmurs quietly, a part of her hoping Chloe is one of those people who can fall asleep pretty much as soon as their head hits the pillow—but a stronger part of her hoping not. Either way, she continues in a quiet voice, “If you did wanna make a move, you can.”

There is another silence to follow, a short stretch in which Beca’s heart thunders and she wonders if perhaps Chloe is already out, before she feels soft fingers slotting through the gaps in her own, then registers her sleepy, whispered response, 

“I just did.”

[weighty-ghosts]

‘Vanishing Spells (or: How Sirius Inadvertently Outed Their Relationship)’

Vanishing Spells (or: How Sirius Inadvertently Outed Their Relationship), by weightyghosts

“James thinks he’s sneaky, Lily knows exactly how to push Sirius’ buttons, Sirius is a tad overprotective, Remus is exasperated with them all, and Peter is definitely sleeping in the common room tonight.”

Rating: teen

Word count: 2918

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published: December 16, 2020

Warnings: None

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080297

   It’s a frosty December night and the boys are in the Gryffindor common room, still sitting by the fireplace from when they had come in to warm up after a snowball fight with the Slytherins.

Well, it wasn’t so much a fight as a sneak attack that involved the Gryffindors hiding behind Greenhouse Two and pummeling those green-clad gits with exploding snowballs... But the Marauders still considered it a battle won in the war against their enemies.

James and Peter are occupying the couch, finishing their Transfiguration homework (really it’s just James writing and Peter peeking over his shoulder), and Remus and Sirius are in the plush crimson wing chairs that flank the couch.

Remus is engrossed in a book Dumbledore gave him on Non-Being Spirituous Apparitions, and Sirius is sitting sideways with his legs dangling over the arm of the chair, drawing idly on the back of his completed essay, and tapping his foot to an unheard beat (much to James’ annoyance).

Sirius is also trying very hard to stop himself from staring at Remus, but he can’t seem to help his eyes wandering over every few minutes to watch the way the firelight brings out the auburn and gold in the werewolf’s hair, the ends a bit curled from the wet snow outside.

Remus glances up at him but looks away quickly, a light blush spreading up his neck. Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, going back to his doodling. This thing between them is still new and exciting, and most importantly: a secret.

A few quiet minutes later, James puts his quill down and stretches his arms over his head, letting out an exaggerated grumbling noise, a habit that Remus finds slightly irritating.

“Hey, Padfoot?” James asks in an offhanded way.

“Mmh?” Sirius murmurs, not bothering to look up from his sketch of a dragon breathing fire on a figure that looks suspiciously like Severus Snape.

“How’s your boyfriend?” James asks casually.

“He’s-“ Sirius glances at Remus automatically, then freezes when he meets amber eyes that are wide with a silent warning.

Sirius’ eyes flick back at James, whose entire face is screaming, “Ha! Got yah.”

“Wait, what? I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Oh, no?” James arches an eyebrow in disbelief.

Peter puts his unfinished homework down and settles back on the couch to watch the evening’s entertainment.

“No! I think I would tell you if I had a boyfriend.”

“You don’t need to tell me, because I already know.”

Sirius drops his quill in his lap and folds his hands together, eerily similar to how Professor McGonagall does when she knows she’s about to hear a tall tale.

“What is it you think you know?” he asks in a patient tone.

“I know for a fact that you and Remus are seeing each other,” James replies.

“James!” Exclaims Peter, like he’s scolding him for outing an unspoken secret. Which he is.

But Sirius has his wits about him now, and keeps a carefully composed face, lips pulled up in a small smile.

“What makes you say that, Potter?” Sirius asks, adding a little bite to James’ name.

“Well, Black, ” says James, returning the bite in kind, “maybe you’ve forgotten but,” he lowers his voice a little and leans in closer to his friend, “we have a map of the school that shows where everyone is at any given time?”

Remus has to admire how Sirius is able to keep any emotion from showing on his face at this information, like he didn’t even hear it. It’s truly impressive. But he also seems unable to reply, so Remus steps in.

“It’s not a big deal, James, I’ve just been helping Sirius-”

“Yeah I’ll bet you have, Moony,” James says suggestively, with a cheeky grin.

Remus blushes and returns to his book so he can pretend to focus on something else.

“Hey!” Sirius interjects, but immediately regrets showing his obvious dislike of what James was implying when James turns back to him looking rather smug. He continues, more calmly, “I didn’t want to tell you and Pete...but I’ve been having trouble with vanishing spells, so Remus has been helping me practice.”

“Bollocks!” James refutes, “You’ve always been good at charms.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.”

“That explains it then, Prongs,” Peter says, trying to placate them.

“Thank you, Peter,” Sirius says, and tips an invisible hat to the blond boy.

“Oh come off it!” James jumps back in.

“Come off what?” Sirius asks, his voice rising with indignation. Of course James is right but he’ll be damned if he lets the prat be aware of it. “You think because you saw us together on the map once or twice-“

“Seven times.”

“S-seven times,” Sirius stutters but pushes on, “that we’re suddenly shagging behind your backs?”

“Yes.”

“That’s complete and utter-”

“But it’s not just the map,” James says, straightening up into a more formal position as if he’s about to recite a speech he’s been working on for a long time, and when Sirius sees Peter roll his eyes, he’s fairly sure James has practiced it on him.

“Something has been going on for weeks,” James continues, “You’ve been sneaky and quiet and acting all cute with each other, and going off on your own places,” James turns to Remus now, “and I know Sirius was in your bed at least once because I saw him sneaking back to his own one morning, and we’ve been friends for over five years so if you think I don’t know you two well enough to know when you’re happy and when you’re hiding something, you’re absolute bloody imbeciles.”

Remus and Sirius are quiet for a moment as that sinks in, then open their mouths to speak at the same time.

“What do you mean acting, ‘all cute-’” Sirius asks.

“Sirius was in my bed because I had a nightmare,” Remus states, shooting Sirius a look, “He was just checking if I was alright.”

This makes James pause, chewing on his lip. He knows that it isn’t uncommon for Remus and Sirius to turn to each other when they have nightmares, it had definitely happened before, but he was so sure this had been different. He has a harder time accusing Remus of lying, though, so he decides to address Sirius.

“When I said you’ve been acting all cute with each other, I meant that you’re all affectionate and stuff! And Padfoot,” James looks around the somewhat-busy common room to see if anyone is listening, but they aren’t so he continues, “has been very protective over Moony, lately.”

“That’s true,” Peter says thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his chin as he thinks back to the last couple of full moons.

Remus looks surprised at that and glances at Sirius with questions in his eyes.

“I’ve always been affectionate and protective with him,” Sirius says calmly, but his cheeks are slightly pink and can’t seem to meet Remus’ gaze, “It’s just the way we are.”

“This is different,” James says.

“Nope. You’re wrong,” Sirius says, picking up his quill and going back to doodling as if the matter is closed, “Utterly wrong.”

James crosses his arms petulantly, the frustrated frown on his face displaying how annoyed he is that his friends won’t just tell the truth.

“It’s true, James,” Remus asserts, “There’s nothing going on.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s hairy left b-”

“What’s that, Potter?”

Lily Evans had appeared in the common room as if by apparition, and stood by Sirius’ chair with a bemused expression on her face.

“Er, h-hey Lily,” James stammers as a blush creeps up his neck to the tips of his ears. Sirius rolls his eyes at the way James completely falls apart when this girl they’ve known since she was a tiny, obnoxious Firstie shows up.

The fact that Remus makes Sirius’ brain and insides melt with merely a look is a completely different cauldron of kelpies.

“What are you talking about that’s gotten you so riled up?” She asks with a smile, always enjoying a rattled James Potter, and crosses in front of the fireplace to sit on the arm of Remus’ chair.

She puts a hand on Remus’ shoulder and they smile at each other. Although, Remus’ is a little forced, as he doesn’t particularly want Lily involved in this conversation. They’ve grown to be close friends since becoming prefects last year, and she knows him too well. He’s fairly certain she’s already figured out about him and Sirius.

Remus looks over at Sirius and is surprised at the hostility in his face. He seems to be glaring at Lily, or more specifically, her hand resting on Remus.

Remus sighs loudly, forcing down the urge to roll his eyes, and Sirius’ mouth twitches.

He loves how easily exasperated his boyfriend gets with him.

“I was trying to get these two wankers to admit that they’re seeing each other!” James replies to her.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Lily says matter-of-factly. They all glance at her in surprise (the boys in question looking away quickly so as not to seem too interested, of course).

“What? But you said-” James starts.

“No,” Lily interrupts, “They’re definitely not together.”

Sirius bites his tongue to keep from asking, “Why the hell are you so damn sure?”  

“What makes you say that?” Peter asks, and Sirius reminds himself to be extra nice to Peter tomorrow. Or to at least try to.

“I just don’t think Remus is Black’s type at all, you know? He’s not...” Lily trails off, searching for the right word, “He’s just not really…”

“Not really what?” Sirius demands, forgetting the façade as anger bubbles in him. How dare she imply that Remus isn’t anything?

“Look, as much as I love Remus,” who she throws a pitying look to, and Remus braces for what she’s about to say next, “He’s a...you know... and I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Remus closes his eyes and chuckles, but the sound is drowned out by the explosion that erupts from Sirius.

“WHAT?”  

He’s on his feet, paper and quill knocked to the floor, as conversation in the common room halts and all eyes lock on him.

“Remus John Lupin is the absolute best, most brilliant person in this entire sodding school, you witless wench!”  Sirius bellows, pointing an accusing finger at her while ignoring James’ gasp at how Lily is being spoken to, “And he happens to be exactly my type! Everything about him is my type! He’s beautiful and smart and sexy and funny, and a bloody good kisser, and he makes me very happy, and- and…”

He starts losing steam when he sees the extremely-pleased-with-herself smirk on Lily’s face. His eyes flick to James who goes from looking indignant to surprised to ecstatic at Sirius’ soppy declaration, to Peter who is just dumb-founded, and finally to Remus.

Remus is half covering his bright red face with his hand, attempting to disappear into the fabric of the chair. Sirius hears him laugh softly, though, and his anger is immediately quashed.

“Thanks so much for that, Lily,” Remus says sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” she says cheerily, planting a kiss on Remus’ forehead. Sirius crosses his arms and frowns. “So predictable, Black,” she continues, shaking her head at him.

“Am not,” he denies, then has the decency to look abashed when adding, “But, you know, you should apologize to Remus for what you said.”

“Oh please, Rem knows I think he’s too good for you. I’ve told him many times.”

“You what?” Sirius looks accusingly at the werewolf.

“I thought she was joking?” Remus replies lamely.

“Lily Evans, you are an absolute genius,” James says, gazing up at her with glazed, adoring eyes. He looks about ready to swoon.

“And you, James Potter, are an absolute moron,” she says simply, “They’ve been hiding this for weeks, and you think they would just come out and say it if you confronted them with it? I told you it wouldn't work. Honestly, you know them better than that,” she adds with a tone like a disappointed school teacher. James could point out that he initially tried to catch Sirius off guard, but he doesn’t seem to want to contradict her. In fact, he seems rather enthralled by her chastising.

“Wait...weeks?” Peter asks in a small voice, looking as lost as he does in Potions.

Lily nods with a smile, rubbing Remus’ shoulder.

Sirius clears his throat and walks over to Remus, figuring he should apologize for blowing their secret, but mostly so he can get Lily away from his sexy boyfriend. He shoos her with a wave of his hands, and she gets up, tossing her hair at him before going to sit in the chair he just vacated.

“Sooorrrry, Mooony,” he croons, then takes the book from Remus’ hand so he can sit down in his lap. Remus’ eyes flash around the room at all the people watching them amusedly, but he rationalizes that there’s no way he could get any more embarrassed than he already is, so settles on sighing and shaking his head.

“You really can be thick sometimes, Sirius Black,” he says teasingly, loosely wrapping his arms around Sirius’ waist.

“Only sometimes,” Sirius says, then his face lights up like he just realized something, “Silver lining, though, Lupin, I can do this now.”

He cups Remus’ cheek, tilting his head up as he leans in and presses their lips together. There are a few cheers and whistles from the other Gryffindors, and Sirius chuckles into Remus’ mouth. Peter and James, however, are busy groaning and dramatically covering their eyes as if they’re witnessing Filch undress.

“Eugh, I don’t want to see that!” James whines.

Sirius pulls away to glare at them, and Remus blushes even more furiously, shooting apologetic looks at their friends. Apparently he could get more embarrassed.

“You wanted to know, James!” Sirius asserts, “You insisted, in fact. Now you have to suffer the consequences.” He turns back to Remus and to pull him in for another kiss.

“Please get a room!” Peter complains.

Sirius detaches their lips again and looks thoughtfully at the blond boy.

“Good idea, Pete,” he grins, “Come along then, my love.”

Remus is sure his face must be about to burst into flames, but he lets Sirius pull him to his feet anyway.

“Oh no,” Peter says, eyes wide, “That’s not what I meant! Please don’t-”

“Don’t worry, mate, we’re only off to work on our vanishing spells,” Sirius replies wickedly, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he drags Remus towards the staircase to the boy’s dorms.

Lily laughs, and Peter looks back at James, who narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Good show, Pettigrew,” he snaps, “Now we can’t go upstairs...bloody ever.”

Lily rolls her eyes at them and gets up from her seat.

“It’s not like they’re going to do anything they haven’t already done in there,” she says, and grins at the horrified looks on the boys’ faces.

Sirius yanks open the door to their room and tugs Remus inside. Remus goes over to sit on the edge of his bed, quirking an eyebrow as Sirius locks the door with his wand. Sirius turns and walks over to him with a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“Vanishing spells?” Remus asks, his voice full of poorly-suppressed humour as he looks up at Sirius and opens his knees for Sirius to stand between them.

“An excellent cover-up!” Sirius replies, placing his hands on Remus’ shoulders.

“You panicked.”

“I might have panicked.”

Sirius smiles as Remus laughs at him, his favourite sound in the world. “I didn’t like how Lily-”

“The witless wench?”

“The witless wench- was talking about you.”

“I appreciate you defending me,” Remus says with genuine affection in his voice, then slides his hands slowly up Sirius’ thighs, “It was rather sexy.”

Sirius bites his lip, enjoying where this seems to be going. “You know what, Moony?”

“What, Padfoot?”

“I wouldn’t mind practising a vanishing spell on your trousers right about now.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Remus falls back onto the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his face.

“What a line,” he grumbles, but Sirius can tell he’s laughing.

Sirius climbs onto the bed, straddling Remus with one knee on either side of his hips.

“Did it work?” He asks, pulling the other boy’s arm down so he can look into his eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

Sirius frowns. “Is the spark gone now that everyone knows?”

“Yes. It’s completely gone. I was only with you because of the sneaking around.”

“Git,” Sirius says, poking Remus in the ribs, “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus’s eyes light up with mischief, “How?”

“Take your trousers off and you’ll find out.”

“Take them off for me.”

“Can’t. We never actually practiced the spell.”

Remus growls and pulls Sirius’ head down to kiss him hard, effectively ending the banter.

*

Half an hour later, James and Peter are standing on the other side of the closed door, trying to discern if it’s safe or not to go inside. When they hear whispering and a muffled moan, James turns to Peter and glares at him, lightly smacking the back of his head. They begrudgingly stomp back down to the common room to settle on the couch, for what will no doubt be a long night of homework.

*