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bekoobove · 1 year ago

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Fazbear Fears #9: The Song

...Two souls, across time, must grapple with the consequences of ignoring their well-meaning fathers…

--NOW--

Martin crept through the hall, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He’d seen dozens of movies where the characters had to sneak around, but they’d never been in a well-lit school.

Why was he here?

Because high school was a lonely place.

Ok, maybe we should back up a little further.

Martin had never exactly been the popular kid, but high school made things significantly worse. The few friends he had were spread so thinly through the enormous building that he didn’t share a single class with any of them. They were doing a lot better than he was, too, having all found new friends in their classes. He’d tried that, of course, but it’d never gone well.

However, yesterday, he’d found himself talking to Jeffrey Grey- one of the most popular kids in school. Martin had no idea how it’d happened, and it hadn’t lasted for very long, but it felt good.

His dad hadn’t seemed too happy when he’d told him, and had encouraged him to befriend someone else. Sure, Jeffrey had been caught driving drunk once or twice, but Martin would be careful. Maybe he could be the designated driver for the group, or something.

This was something Martin did- come up with ideal scenarios, and kind of expect them to go as planned. One conversation with Jeffrey was surely enough for some kind of foothold to be established with the high school elites, right?

Take a wild guess.

Martin had already felt out of place walking up to the table in the cafeteria. It was full of rich-looking white kids, who were discussing the events of the day. They all turned to stare at him as he tried to sit down, their conversations pausing. He couldn’t help but feel like his dark skin was the main thing that made him stick out to them.

“What’re you doing here, uh- Marcus?” One girl had said, like he was lost.

Martin stuttered. “Um, actually, it’s Martin. I just figured...y’know there was an empty spot…”

A hand gripped his shoulder. Martin turned to see a big blonde guy looming over him. “Actually, there isn’t. Mind clearing the way, buddy?”

Martin awkwardly stood back up, and walked away, his back to the giggles that began to erupt from the group.

He had bumped into Jeffrey later that day, and asked him what it would take to be accepted by the group. Jeffrey’s answer had been simple.

“Look, Martin, you’re just too much of goody-two-shoes. You’re just not ready to hang out with us.”

‘Well, what do I have to do to prove I am?!”

Jeffrey had thought for a moment. “Ok, here’s something. You know that display case by the history classrooms? Steal something from there.”

Martin was dumbfounded. “Wait, but isn’t it right across the hall from the principal's office? She could see me!”

“That’s kind of the point. If you want to get somewhere in this life, you have to take risks. Just grab something, anything from there. It’s not locked.”

Martin tried to protest, tried to get a different test, but in the end he relented. Jeffrey promised to be waiting in the back parking lot at 4:00. Martin accepted, knowing that the halls would be mostly empty by then.

That leads us to where we began- Martin, an awkward teenager, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible in order to not get in trouble.

Finally, he arrived at the case. He glanced into the principal’s office. No one in line of sight.

He looked around one last time, and slid the case’s window open.

Martin had never really paid attention to the case, and was a bit surprised by the contents. It was a bunch of old artifacts from Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

Martin had never been, but he recognized the objects easily. An animatronic hand was displayed on a small podium. Mr Cupcake, Chica’s best friend, stared at Martin from a shelf. A microphone, some Faz-Coins, and an old soda cup sat on the case’s floor, lovingly displayed.

Martin was confused- why stock the case with artifacts from a long-dead pizzeria franchise?

His question was answered when he noticed the poster on the case’s door. It read: The Rampton High School History Club Presents: The Freddy Fazbear Missing Children Incident.

Oh, yeah. Martin had heard about those. Apparently a couple of children were killed (well, they went missing, but almost forty years later they hadn’t been found, so…) in a Freddy Fazbear’s location in some town west of here back in the eighties. There were suspects, but no one was ever convicted in court.

Whatever. All that mattered was proving himself to Jeffrey and his friends.

He scanned the case. What to take, what to take…

A Faz-coin? The Cupcake? No, no, they were too small, too easy. If he really wanted to impress, he should take something big.

Then his eyes fell towards the back corner. Leaning against it was a guitar.

It was fake, obviously. It’s not like Bonnie, the guitarist, was actually playing live music. But it looked pretty real: designed after a Flying V style electric guitar,

If anything would impress the others, it was this. Delicately, Martin pulled out the guitar, being careful not to jostle any of the other items. He didn’t know whether Jeffrey would let him return it or not, but he hoped so. The large instrument’s disappearance wouldn’t be unnoticed for long.

Martin gave one last look into the office and around the halls. No one here.

He closed the glass door, and ran, the guitar tucked under his arm.

He had no idea he was being followed.

--THEN--

Jeremy jumped out of bed. “Today! The party’s today!”

He’d been up for an hour, but Papi told him he should always try to sleep until seven. Jeremy got the feeling Papi had done this more for his own sleep than his, which, fair. But how could he not be excited?

From this, you might think it was Jeremy’s birthday. Nope: it was actually Cassidy’s, one of his best friends.

Sure, he wouldn’t be getting any presents. But Cassidy was having a sleepover! It would be his first, and he was hyped to stay up too late and eat junk food. But that wasn’t even the best part.

Before the sleepover, this afternoon, they were going to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

Jeremy had only been once, years ago. He didn’t remember it too well, but from his friends’ descriptions it sounded like paradise.

Pizza, cupcakes, and all the soda you could drink? Dozens of arcade games? That was already enticing enough. But what really sealed the deal were the animatronics.

Jeremy had a bit more experience with them. He’d seen them in the commercials, and in their animated cartoon show Freddy and Friends. He loved every one of them: Lead singer Freddy, friendly Chica, swashbuckling Foxy- but his favorite was Bonnie.

There was something about that rock’n’roll rabbit that was enchanting. And he’d clearly held this affection his whole life, because he’d gotten a Bonnie action figure that one time he’d gone to Freddy’s. He didn’t remember it, but Papi confirmed it was from them, and Jeremy wasn’t complaining.

He held it even now, his fingers tracing over the smooth plastic. He smiled, and put it in an obvious spot. Jeremy planned to take it to the restaurant. He wasn’t sure why- maybe just to compare it to the real Bonnie.

The morning went by slowly. It always happens when one is looking forward to something. Jeremy was bored, and by noon was splayed out on the couch, moaning.

“Ugh… come on, time, go. Go!”

Papi came out of the kitchen, and sat down on the couch next to him. “Jeremy, mijo, a watched pot never boils. Look away from the clock.”

“But I'm bored! There’s nothing to do! Can I watch TV?”

“You’ll be up all night doing that.” Papi paused, then smiled. “You want me to play you some songs?”

Jeremy sighed. “Sure, I guess.”

Papi got up, and returned a minute later with his guitar.

“Alright, what do you want to hear? I just learned how to play that Material Girl song that’s rising up the charts…”

Jeremy thought, then smiled. “Play our song.”

“Jeremy, I’ve played that a million times. Don’t kids your age like pop or rock or- well, not this?”

“We do. But I like this better.”

Papi grinned. “Very well.”

And Papi played.

He was right; he had played this many times before. But that was because Jeremy loved it. He felt connected to it.

Strange, because the song didn’t have any words. It hadn’t even been written for the guitar- its intended instrument was a piano.

But Papi had a reason for loving it so much. He’d told Jeremy it years ago after one particularly emotional rendition.

“Ah, mijo.” Papi had said. “I first heard this song...shortly after your birth.”

Jeremy had sighed sadly. “So also right after Mom died…”

“Yes. I was sitting in a chair, right next to her. They were preparing to take her away- just...letting me say goodbye. But there was more to the story than I’ve ever told you. Your mother died bringing you into the world, but you weren’t in good shape. The doctors thought you might die, too.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jeremy had said, surprised.

“I sat there, having just lost the love of my life- and I might have been about to lose my beautiful child. Then, this song played on the radio. I started humming along to it, and then began to cry. The song was sad. However, there was something else about it. Something that made me think everything would be ok.

A minute later, the doctors came into the room with you. Said they’d fixed whatever was wrong with you. They gave you to me, and I held my baby boy in my arms for the first time. Since then this song has always touched me.”

“But why?!” Jeremy had asked, incredulously. “How could you like a song that played right after Mom died? No matter how good it is, that should’ve ruined it!”

“Listen, Jeremy. The song is a thoughtful one, and there are many ways to interpret its tune. But the way I’ve always understood it is this: horrible things happened, and life is and will be hard. Still, there is always hope in the darkest of hours, and we can move on to a better future. And, of course, there will be a day when all suffering ends.”

Jeremy stared, dumbfounded. Papi chuckled. “I don’t expect you to understand all that philosophical nonsense. I just have one question- do you enjoy listening to the song?”

“Yes!” Jeremy had cheered.

“That’s all that matters.”

And Jeremy had enjoyed listening to it, and enjoyed listening to it now.

“So, what time are you leaving again?” Papi asked, strumming the final notes.

“Two o’ clock!” Jeremy reminded him.

“Huh.” Papi pondered. “I thought Cassidy’s parents- the Zhaos, right?- always went to visit the Mrs’ parents on Wednesday afternoons. That’s why you couldn’t go over last week, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So they’re not going this week?”

Jeremy frowned. “No, they are. They’re just dropping Cassidy off at Freddy’s.”

“What!?” Papi stood up, shocked. “You didn’t tell me you kids would be there alone!”

“I did! That night when I first told you about the sleepover!”

Papi put his face in his hands. “Oh, mijo. I had just come home from work, I was exhausted. I might not have heard that part.”

“Well, you have now. Why does it matter, the five of us will stick together. Other kids go on their own all the time.”

“It’s not safe!” Papi yelled. “Do I have to remind you of that poor girl who was murdered two years ago?”

“She was locked outside the restaurant! She wasn’t inside.”

“I think that a deranged killer could get inside if they wanted to. Surely you understand why a kid being unattended there is unacceptable.”

Jeremy balled his little fists. “Alright, then you come with. I don’t care!”

“You know I have an evening shift at the convenience store! I couldn’t stay the whole time.” Papi sighed. “Listen, they said they’d bring you to the sleepover, right? You can go to that.”

“Are you kidding?! I’m not missing Freddy’s! The other kids get to go all the time, but I don’t!”

Papi sighed. “Jeremy, you know why…”

Jeremy stood up as well, and glared at his father. “Yeah, I know. It’s because we’re poor! Whose fault is that?”

Even as he said it, he regretted it, but it was too late.

Papi stared, then grabbed his arm. “That’s it! You’re in time out.”

He dragged Jeremy into his room. “You better behave yourself, or you’re not going to that sleepover.”

Papi slammed the door behind. “You’re in there for ten minutes. Think about what you said!”

Shocked, Jeremy slumped against the bed. His day was ruined.

The reverberations of the door shook his dresser, causing the Bonnie figure to fall to the ground in front of him. He picked it up, contemplating it.

Bonnie’s smooth plastic eyes seemed to be staring into him, as if asking when he’d come to visit.

Jeremy narrowed his own eyes. If his father wouldn’t take him, he’d take care of this himself.

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

Luis sat on the couch, starting to feel guilty. What Jeremy had said was uncalled for, but he was just a kid dealing with disappointment. Perhaps he had been too harsh.

He walked down the hall, and knocked on Jeremy’s door. “Mijo, listen...I’m sorry. You can come out now, if you want.”

No answer. Luis sighed. “Alright, I understand if you want to be alone for a while.”

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

Around two hours passed. Cassidy’s Freddy Fazbear party had begun. Luis figured Jeremy was feeling even more bummed out. He still hadn’t come out of his room, though.

Luis returned and knocked again. “Jeremy, I have to go to work soon. Can we please talk before I leave?”

No answer, again.

Luis frowned. “Jeremy, I’m done with this silent treatment. I’m coming in now.”

He opened the door.

Jeremy was nowhere to be seen.

Panicking, Luis looked around, trying to see if he was hiding.

What he saw was the window open.

He ran towards it. They were on the first floor, and it appeared Jeremy had taken advantage of that. Squashed patches of grass in the shape of footprints led to the sidewalk- leading vaguely in the direction of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, halfway across town.

Luis cursed. He ran over to the phone on the wall, and called the police.

“Jeremy, you are going to be in so much trouble when you get back.” he muttered as the phone rang.

Quite sad reflecting on it- that Luis thought Jeremy would come back at all.

--NOW--

“Finally, I’m going to be popular!”

Martin hummed to himself as he headed towards the lot. He kept thinking about how great it’d be- to always have someone to sit with, to always have someone to hang out with on the weekend, to be able to always rely on someone. He’d never be alone again.

Finally he arrived at the EXIT door. “Alright, new High School life, here I come!”

Martin opened the door and walked out confidently, preparing to see Jeffrey’s impressed face.

Instead, he saw dozens of them, all laughing.

Most of the popular kids from the table were there, all holding their phones and recording him.

Martin's face turned red as he realized what was going on. Jeffrey walked to the front of the crowd and grinned mockingly at him. “Wow, Martin. I always knew you were a huge Faz-Head, but now you’ve turned to a life of crime for it? I’m ashamed.”

“But- but you said I could hang out with you if I stole this!”

“You admitted that pretty quickly, loser. Did you really believe that, though? Why would we ever hang out with someone like you?”

Tears began to form in Martin’s eyes. He started running, pushing through the group, towards the woods behind the school.

“Yeah, that’s right. Go back where you belong!” Jeffrey taunted him. “Maybe there’s a weasel or bunny that’ll be your friend in there.”

A surge of anger went through Martin. He spun back towards Jeffrey, and smacked him in the leg with the guitar.

Jeffrey screamed, and stumbled back. He was caught by one of the bigger group members. Quickly, he righted himself and glared at Martin.

“You little jerk! I’ll make sure you never make another friend again at this school.”

Stunned, Martin backed away, then ran directly into the forest, his back to the jeers and threats of people he thought he could trust.

--THEN--

Jeremy couldn’t believe it. He was here.

It’d taken him almost an hour to get across town on foot, but he’d made it to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

To be honest, it wasn’t quite like he’d expected. He’d sort of thought it would look different from all the other buildings, as if the kiddie fun would’ve burst through the seams and colored the outsides. For the most part, it was just a normal building- concrete, brick, and glass, all in a simple squarish shape. However, the sign on top certainly made it stand out- a huge cartoon bear’s face grinned down at him, with the establishment’s name up in rainbow lights below it.

Jeremy had to wait a little, since the others hadn’t gotten there yet, but not too long. Within ten minutes, Cassidy’s car had pulled up. She got out, and said goodbye to her parents in the front seats. The other three clambered out of the car after.

They all seemed to be in good spirits. Gabriel and Fritz both excitedly gestured at the sign. Susie seemed happy to talk with Cassidy, though there was also a tone in her voice of smugness, like she’d gotten one over someone.

Cassidy noticed Jeremy as her car pulled away. “Hey, Jeremy!”

She ran over and high-fived him. “What are you doing here? Mom said your dad wasn’t going to let you come.”

“Uh, he changed his mind.” Jeremy lied.

“That’s great!”

Susie walked up and pouted. “Well, your family’s a lot better than mine, then. My sister keeps trying to steal Gretchen from me, even though she’s mine!”

Gabriel laughed. “What, that stupid doll? Girls care about the weirdest things.”

“Girls are the weirdest things!” Fritz added.

They both laughed, stopping when Susie and Cassidy glared at them.

Susie turned back to Cassidy. “Anyway, like I was telling you, I hid Gretchen in a place Samantha won’t find her.”

Cassidy grinned. “Hope it’s a good hiding place, cause you’ll be gone for a while. It’s party time!”

The group entered the restaurant. The party had already been reserved, so after Cassidy checked them in, the fun began. All of them enjoyed some pizza and cupcakes, Susie especially. They all clapped for the Fazbear band when the curtains raised. As the performance began, Jeremy held up his figure to the real Bonnie and compared them. He smiled. The toy’s head was a little big, but otherwise pretty accurate.

After the performance, the group got their cups of arcade tokens. All stopped to look at the Prize Counter, shelves full of presents to be handed out to children. As party guests, the Puppet animatronic would get them presents later. To be honest, that was the one part Jeremy wasn’t looking forward to- that lanky thing was creepy.

In the meantime, they could earn other prizes with tickets. Susie was eying a stuffed dog with a red collar- probably because she’d lost her own dog a few weeks ago. It had been hard on her and her sister, and even now Susie seemed to be tearing up a little.

She shook it off, and went to find a game to play. She was quickly entranced by the glowing lights of the Fruity Maze game, and loaded some tokens in.

The others went deeper into the arcade. Jeremy stopped at the Fazbear Adventure game, and played through it. It was so fun. The four animatronic made their way through a little colorful world, not worrying about conflicting schedules or money- just exploring, and having fun. Jeremy wished his life could be like theirs forever.

Unfortunately, he died just before the Auto-Chipperizer boss fight. GAME OVER flashed across the screen. A paltry ten tickets flowed out of the slot. Jeremy groaned. Maybe the others were having better luck.

He walked away from the machine to find Gabriel looking around anxiously. Noticing Jeremy, he asked, “Hey, have you seen Susie?”

“Did you check the Fruity Maze game? She didn’t seem like she was leaving anytime soon.”

“I did! I looked everywhere…”

Jeremy hesitated. “She’s...probably just in the bathroom. Don’t worry about it too much.”

But as Jeremy went to find another game, he struggled to follow his own advice.

--NOW--

Martin ran through the thicket, wiping his eyes. Maybe he should’ve seen this coming. In fact, he definitely should have.

“What now…” he muttered to himself. The group had betrayed his trust, and they had recorded his guitar theft and subsequent guitar attack.

He was going to be in so much trouble. Why had he done this? He should’ve just stayed away from those jerks.

Angrily, he threw the guitar away. It flew through the air, landing somewhere in a clump of bushes.

Whatever. His house was this way. He plodded on through the forest, wondering what to do next.

--THEN--

“Gabriel?”

Jeremy looked around. He couldn’t see his friend anywhere on the arcade floor.

He called Fritz and Cassidy over. “Guys, I can’t find Gabriel or Susie.”

“Huh.” Cassidy thought. Fritz looked a lot more immediately perturbed. “Oh, geez. What do you think happened to them?”

Fritz, being the oldest, was the most responsible and protective of the group. Jeremy tried to call him down. “It’s probably fine. They might have just gone outside for a breath of fresh air.”

Casssidy put her hand on Fritz’s shoulder. “Do you want to look for them?”

Fritz breathed, in and out. “Yeah...yeah, sure.”

He wandered off, beginning to call for them. Cassidy smiled nervously at Jeremy. “We’ll find them.” she said, though there was a bit of worry in her voice. She followed after Fritz.

This time, Jeremy didn’t move on. He was concerned, and continued searching around the arcade.

No luck. His worry turned to fear. He felt completely thrown off by all the flashing lights and 8-bit noises. Honestly, he had no idea what to do.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. Stunned, he spun around.

A giant golden rabbit stared back. Jeremy gasped and stumbled backwards.

Quickly he realized it was just a guy in a suit- sort of. Rather than just a thin layer of fabric with fur attached, it was closer to the animatronic plush suits- visible joints and seams, through which Jeremy swore he could see some mechanical parts.

The other strange thing was the character itself. Bonnie was bluish-purple, not yellow. The character was much skinnier as well. He did have a bow tie like Bonnie, but also wore a vest- both pieces purple with pale star designs instead of red.

The character tilted his head at Jeremy, studying him. Then he spoke.

“Hello, child. You look lost.”

Jeremy, who had been agitated before, calmed a little. The man’s voice from within was deep and soothing.

“I...I guess I am. I can’t find my friends!”

The man knelt down, locking his gaze with Jeremy’s. His eyes were piercing, and silvery-gray in color. “Oh, well, that doesn’t sound good.”

He thought. “Wait a moment! Are you a member of the party being held for that young girl with the yellow dress?”

Jeremy stared, confused. “Yeah, I am. Her name is Cassidy.”

“Well, I took Cassidy and the other children to our special party room!”

Jeremy frowned. “I didn’t know you had one of those.”

The rabbit smiled. “Well, it’s only for the most special children.”

Jeremy mulled this over. “So, can I come?”

“Of course, my boy! You’re perfect.”

A smile grew on Jeremy’s face. The rabbit gestured at him to follow.

And he did, through and out of the maze of arcade machines.

They passed by the Prize Counter as the Puppet handed out a present to another kid. Maybe Jeremy was imagining it, but it seemed to be glaring at the rabbit man.

“I don’t like that thing.” Jeremy muttered.

“I’ve worked with it quite a lot.” the rabbit remarked. “Fascinating design, isn't it?”

“Something about it just looks too...real.”

“I suppose that’s why it interests me so much.”

The rabbit opened a door against the back wall. Jeremy passed through, and entered a hallway.

“Is this a place kids should be? This seems like where the workers go.”

“Usually, but the special party room is back here. It needs to be hidden so not just any kid can go in.” The rabbit gingerly closed the door behind him.

He pointed across the hall, to a much heavier, industrial looking door. “There it is. A celebration for the ages awaits you.”

Eagerly, Jeremy ran to the door. With some difficulty, he pushed it open.

The room inside was dark and cramped. He couldn’t see anything.

But he could smell something. In the air hung a metallic scent, intermingling with that of rotten meat.

“Wha- where are the others?”

The light from the door was blocked by the man’s long shadow- then extinguished completely when the door shut.

His smooth voice floated through the darkness. “They’re right here, my child. Let me help you.”

He flicked the light on.

Jeremy’s friend laid before him, dead.

Their corpses had been arranged in a sick display- sat down in chairs around a table strung with birthday decorations. Balloons hung in the corner, and a banner above invited all to join in the birthday fun. No attempt was made to hide their slit throats, blood spilling from them like faucets.

“No…”

Jeremy tried to run, but the rabbit man grabbed him and threw him against the wall.

Several seconds passed as Jeremy struggled to push himself up. He heard something heavy hit the floor, and looked up weakly.

The rabbit man had taken the top of his costume off, and Jeremy saw the man beneath it.

His stomach was a roadmap of scars that seemed perfectly symmetrical, and was covered in blood and viscera. He was somewhat overweight, but still clearly strong.

He grabbed Jeremy by the throat. Jeremy struggled, to no avail.

The man looked at the table and grinned. “One empty seat...just for you.”

From somewhere in the suit, he pulled out a bloody knife. He put it up to Jeremy’s throat.

“Sweet dreams.” The knife slashed, and Jeremy’s light went out.

--NOW--

Martin put his key in the door and entered.

He closed the door behind him. “Dad?” he called out hesitantly. “I’m home.”

A note on the table caught his eye.

‘Martin- called in for a closing shift at the diner. Won’t be back till late tonight. Sorry.’

Martin sighed. Lena, dad’s boss, had been calling him in to work more and more hours, at least sixty a week at this point. It was wrong- she was taking advantage of his desperation. Martin barely even got to see him anymore. He missed doing puzzles, and watching old movies, and playing video games with him.

But most of all, he missed playing music with him. Dad often let him borrow his guitar, and he’d really gotten good.

He crashed on the couch. Why couldn’t life be easy like it used to?

Trying to relax, he watched some Youtube videos. He really couldn’t stop thinking about everything, though.

After an hour, he couldn’t sit still anymore. He walked back outside, hoping to get some fresh air.

Martin looked out at the forest, which began just a few yards behind his house. It was one of his favorite parts about living here. Of course it would probably get torn down in a few months to make room for more houses, so he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

They’d probably have trouble, though. The forest was thick- almost impossibly dense. In some portions it was almost like a wall of leaves and branches.

Which is why it was strange when a figure walked out without jostling a single sprout.

Martin gasped. It was more than that- he was passing through the bush.

The figure was small, and from all appearances seemed to be less than ten years old. He was colored with shades of gray, and was kind of translucent. Thick dark lines traced down from his eyes, like he’d cried so much the tear marks left a groove.

The boy didn’t seem surprised to see Martin, but was surprised to see him staring right at him. He moved a little to the left, and was shocked to see Martin’s terrified eyes follow him.

“You can see me!” He shouted excitedly.

“You’re- you’re a ghost!” Martin exclaimed, backing away.

The boy sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

He extended his hand. “Maybe we should introduce ourselves. I’m Jeremy.”

--THEN--

The first year was a descent.

Gradually Jeremy lost himself- to anger and to agony. He wasn’t alone- all the others walked the same path, becoming monsters out of a nightmare.

Had they killed people? Jeremy knew that’s what their Corrupted Selves- their dark alter egos that awoke during their night- wanted. They would always be helpless as their most evil, hateful, primal side arose and began to hunt, but after that it was like they were asleep. Maybe no one had died- maybe dozens.

It was hard to keep track of themselves. One moment they were in those ugly furry things- the next, a piece of them were in shiny newer models. Then those were gone, and they were back in the originals. They’d been broken down, melted down, and brought down to some underground facility, where there was another girl. She had seemed less fragmented than them, but she was still so desperate- so lonely.

At that point it got really confusing. Jeremy’s consciousness constantly shifted- from some bow-tie wearing fox to a bunny hand puppet to a tall dancing woman.

It didn’t end there. They escaped...through someone? As...wires?

Honestly, it got even weirder there. One piece of him stayed in the wire thing. Another piece was stranger. It was like it was in some sort of fake world; a game that reminded him of Fazbear Adventures. The last part was in some sort of greenish, musty building, filled with old Freddy Fazbear items.

Then, all of those parts were one again, and he was at Cassidy’s party.

It was peaceful. There was a cake, and balloons, and all of his friends were there- even Charlie.

So much of Jeremy’s existence since that first party had been disjointed- a story told in subtext and secrets. But at this party, his mind reformed, and the story became clear and linear.

He saw a light, and went towards it. It was so beautiful…

But something grabbed him- and the others. All of them were dragged back down to earth. It was different- they weren’t trapped in their robot bodies anymore. He could also tell they were closer than they’d ever been. It felt like...they were just one step away.

Susie had taken that step. Jeremy wanted to as well.

What was stopping them? Their Corrupted Selves.

Jeremy hadn’t really wanted to leave until now. As awful as this existence had been, he still wanted revenge on their killer. Being at the party, seeing it through to its end, made him lose that desire. But his Corrupted Self wasn’t so ready to let go.

Jeremy hadn’t been sure what to do- so he went home.

--NOW--

“Wait, wait. So you were Bonnie?”

“Well, I had his body.”

Martin paused, trying to take it all in. He was talking to a dead kid from the eighties, who’d spent decades possessing a stinky old rabbit robot- on his back porch.

“Ok, well that’s nice and all. Why are you here?”

“I need the guitar.” Jeremy said curtly.

Martin was taken aback. “That old fake thing? Why?”

“It’s...complicated.”

He looked around. “Where is it? I was following you from the school, but I lost you in the woods.”

Martin frowned. “Well, that’s a little creepy.” Hesitating for another moment, he confessed. “I, uh, actually threw it away.”

“What?!” Jeremy stood up, angry. “I need that guitar!”

“Why? It’s fake, you can’t actually play it.”

“I know, I know…” He put his face in his hands. “I just need it. I can’t understand why, but ever since I...found out...y’know...I’ve known I need it.”

“I don’t know.” Martin protested. “Since you found out what?”

Jeremy was silent. In fact, the whole backyard was pretty quiet.

Until it wasn’t.

Softly at first, then louder, the noise of an electric guitar being strummed floated through the breeze.

Martin and Jeremy both turned towards the woods, where the sound was emanating from.

Unlike when Jeremy had emerged, the leaves were being shaken, and branches were snapping. It was much more activity then would be caused even if Jeremy was physical, and it wasn’t hard to see why.

Bonnie the Bunny emerged from the undergrowth. But this wasn’t the Bonnie you’d see preforming at Freddy Fazbear’s.

Like Jeremy, it had a translucent quality to it, though not quite as much. It was dirty, with black mold growing on its fuzzy plush skin. Its eyes were bloodshot- actually bloodshot, although the veins pulsing on the glass spheres flowed with inky black rather than hot red. Its teeth were the most obvious change- the length of cigarettes and as sharp as needles. The guitar sounds were louder than ever, though the nightmarish robot wasn’t playing any instrument.

It looked at both of them, seemingly confused by Martin’s presence. However, it moved past this pretty quickly. It charged towards Jeremy, making squishing noises as it ran through the damp grass.

“STAY.” A guttural voice echoed from the abomination’s ragged throat as it drew closer.

Overcoming his shock, Martin tried to grab Jeremy’s hand, but passed right through it. Panicking, Martin ran inside and closed the back door. He immediately began to feel guilty about leaving Jeremy.

Luckily, Jeremy phased through the door a second later.

“Oh, right. Ghost.” Martin remembered. “Wait! Can that thing come inside, too?”

“No. It’s sort of physical. It wants to hurt people. It’s still ghostly enough to touch spirits, though.”

Martin looked out the nearby window, half expecting the thing to have vanished. Nope; it was out there, staring back at him.

“So, is it gonna stick around?”

“As long as I’m here, yeah.”

Martin rubbed his temples. “Guess we need some kind of plan or something…”

“That’d be good.”

--THEN--

LUIS ALEJANDRO ESTEVEZ

1951-2012

A HUSBAND FOR THREE YEARS, A FATHER FOR NINE

BOTH IN THE ETERNITY TO COME

Jeremy fell to his knees, weeping in front of the tombstone.

Maybe he should have seen this coming. In fact, he definitely should have. It only now truly began to hit him how long he’d been gone- 38 years.

The world had changed so much, but Papi had been his constant. Every night, he dreamed of leaving whatever awful place he was in at the moment, and seeing his father again.

Now he was gone, Jeremy was eleven years too late.

His father often talked about heaven, and about how Mom would be waiting for them there. How would it feel when she was the only one greeting him? He should be there too...well, he should be alive, but this was the next best thing.

The grave was on their old property, which was in disrepair. They had few living relatives, so the house was barely disturbed. After pulling himself together, Jeremy began to wander through it. It was almost the same- even his room. His dad hadn’t moved a single thing.

Eventually he found himself in his dad’s room. It was the one part that was really different. The old bookshelf was stuffed with self-help books about coping with loss and grief. The bed hadn’t been made, looking like he’d been pulled out of it. At least Papi had died peacefully…

Something on the end table caught his eye: a sheet of music that had been laminated, lovingly preserved.

It was the song. Their song.

Jeremy stared at it in awe. He hadn’t heard this since that day- the day everything changed. He tried to pick it up- but, y’know, ghost.

Even as he was phasing through it he felt the power within the song. Not the ink and paper- it wasn’t infected with agony or anything- but something within himself.

Right away he knew he needed to hear it. That was his final step.

Problem was, he wasn’t exactly in a position to play a guitar.

He couldn’t touch anything...except maybe something infested with emotions, preferably his own.

Huh. Could this...work?

Bonnie’s guitar was fake, but Charlie had talked about how infected objects could become more real.

Maybe it was stupid. But it was his only shot.

He left the house and began heading towards the old Freddy Fazbear's. The guitar had been stored away in the back, so that weird surfer guy hadn’t gotten it for that haunted house place.

Jeremy took one last look at his dad’s grave.

“See you soon, Papi. I promise.”

--NOW--

“Geez.” Martin said, unsure of how exactly to respond.

“Yeah…” Jeremy responded. “Since it was my own agony, I was able to keep track of it. By the time I got there, it was gone. But I followed it to your school.”

“The History Club must have found it and taken it for their dumb display.” Martin groaned. He stood up, and peeked through the blinds. That hideous rabbit robot was still out there, staring up at him. They had gone up to the second floor, but the bunny hadn’t tried to break in.

Martin checked his clock. 9:13 PM. They’d spent a couple of hours hiding up here, hoping Bonnie would leave. Well, Martin had. Jeremy remained adamant that his ‘Corrupted Self’ wasn’t going anywhere.

They’d passed the time a number of ways. Just now Jeremy had caught Martin fully up to speed, but they’d done a lot of other things. Jeremy had marveled as Martin played video games, and Martin had enjoyed Jeremy’s tales of normal life in the eighties.

“Anyway,” Martin continued. “Like I told you a minute ago, nothing weird happened to the guitar. It’s still just a prop.”

Jeremy sighed. “I was so sure. The more I followed the guitar, the less I felt like it was some meaningless instinct. It felt like my way home.”

“You really think all you need to do is hear this song?” Martin asked, still a little confused. “Maybe I could just look it up on YouTube or something.”

“No. All I know is that it has to be played for me. Not to me- for me.”

Martin frowned. “Well, do you think I can play it?”

Jeremy paused, taken aback. “You can play the guitar?!”

“Yeah, my dad and I sometimes play together.”

Jeremy gasped. “You can help me. All this time I thought the guitar would help me, but maybe the connection I felt with it was to lead me to you!”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that me stealing the guitar, and you following me, was all part of some sort of destiny thing? ‘Cause I don’t believe in that garbage.”

“Before tonight, did you believe in haunted animal robots?”

Martin sighed. “Fair point. But I’m not that good, and it takes me a long time to learn new songs.”

“It seems like we have some time before Corrupted Me tries anything. And I know the song; I can teach it to you.”

“Ok...I guess it’s our option. My guitar is downstairs, give me a second to get it.”

Martin dashed down the stairs and grabbed his instrument, which was leaning against the living room wall.

Through the window, Bonnie stared at him. It seemed to react when he picked up the guitar. The eerie music drifted into the house, and the thing’s eyes flashed with glowing black. It made no attempt to break in, but it seemed to be watching more intently.

It spoke again, though it was barely audible from behind a wall. Still, Martin picked up, “HE WILL STAY.”

Spooked, Martin dashed back upstairs, to see Jeremy eagerly waiting. “You ready?” He asked.

Martin sighed. “Yeah, let’s try this out.”

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

And so they tried. Jeremy had memorized the song from the sheet music he’d examined, and he relayed it to Martin, who in turn filled out an online sheet music template with the notes. Once the final symbol was added, the real test began.

Ok, fine, Martin had never been great at playing music, and that was starting to show now. He stumbled over the notes, and barely managed to hold a tune. Jeremy tried to help, but decades of playing a fake guitar while the actual music pumped out of nearby speakers failed to put him in a mentoring position. His advice was mostly, “You can do it!” and “Try to make it sound more...better”.

After a couple of hours, though, Martin finally got the hang with it. He played through the entire song, with only one or two mistakes. He grinned at Jeremy once it ended, expecting the boy to start ascending to heaven or something.

But Jeremy merely raised an eyebrow at Martin. “I don’t think it worked.”

Martin groaned. “But why? I messed up twice, maybe!”

“I doubt this is something where you have to play it exactly right. I think the problem is you’re playing the music, but not the song.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” Martin responded.

“You’re not putting your heart into it. There isn’t enough emotion. It’s just notes and lines to you.”

Annoyed, Martin snapped back. “Listen, I’m sorry I don’t have the same connection to this song as you. In case you forgot, this isn’t the last memory I shared with my dad before I ran off and got murdered!”

Silence.

Martin immediately regretted what he’d said. Jeremy gasped, then turned away. He began shuddering, seemingly pulsating with anger.

“Oh my gosh, Jeremy. I’m so sorry! I just meant...no, no. It wasn’t ok. I’m just sorry.”

Jeremy turned. He wasn’t seething with rage, though; he was crying- grayish tears carving those lines into his cheeks.

“No, it’s- you’re right. The last thing I ever said to my Papi was blaming him for us being poor. And he was right about keeping me home, too. The killer was there, in the restaurant. I died, and left him alone.”

“You didn’t mean to.”

“But I did. If I had just listened to him…”

Martin sighed. “I know that feeling. My dad told me not to hang out with these other kids. He said they were a bad influence. I thought he was exaggerating, but they made me steal that guitar, and then recorded me with it. They’re going to get me in trouble, and I’m still as much of an outcast as ever.”

Jeremey wiped his eyes. “Well, if you hadn’t stolen the guitar, we’d have never met. That’s something good, right?”

Martin smiled hesitantly. “Yeah, that’s something. I guess stealing the guitar did get me a new friend- though I expected them to be teens my age, not the ghost of an eight-year old.”

They laughed. Martin’s worry quickly returned. “Still, like I said, I’m not attached to this song. So unless you want me to play Smoke on the Water, I don’t-”

“Wait, Smoke on the Water?” Jeremy asked. “I’ve heard that song before. Why’d you mention it?”

Martin blushed, embarrassed. “Well, it’s just this song my dad liked when he was younger. And it was the first song I learned when I started playing guitar with him. It’s nothing special, lots of beginners start out with it.”

Now he wiped his eyes clear of forming tears. “It’s just...there’s a lot of good memories, we just don’t get to play as much anymore. I miss him.”

Martin chuckled. “It’s kind of stupid, I know. Now come on, let’s give your song another try.”

“Actually…” Jeremy began, “I think we need to give your song a try.”

“Wait, what?” Martin exclaimed. “This isn’t time to play songs just for the fun of it. We need to help you get to heaven or something, right?”

“We need to try something different. If you have an emotional connection to this song with your own father, maybe that’ll work. After all these years of being filled to the brim with agony, me and the others have become pretty good at sensing emotion. Maybe I can sense yours. And maybe, that’ll be enough.”

Martin stared, disbelieving. “That honestly sounds kind of far-fetched. And besides, what’s the rush? We’ve got all the time in the world!”

A scream of anger came from outside the window. Martin, confused, opened the blinds.

The dark Bonnie screamed again. Now that he got a closer listen, it didn’t just sound angry- it sounded triumphant. It began banging on the porch door.

“Oh, crap!” Martin yelled. He looked back at Jeremy, nervous. “What’s got big purple out there so angry?!”

Jeremy’s face morphed into an expression of horror. He turned to see Martin’s clock. “Crud, it’s midnight. We- we always were at our worst at midnight.”

He grabbed Martin’s arm. “Please, play the Smoke song or whatever it’s called. It’s our only chance!”

Martin hesitated. From below, there came the sound of shattering glass and drywall.

“He broke the door down.” Martin realized. “Ok, fine!”

He grabbed the guitar. “Well, Jeremy, if we die- or if I die and whatever that thing wants to do to you gets done- at least we went out listening to a really great guitar riff!”

And he began to play the song.

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

Music can take on a lot of different meanings depending on the situation.

For Martin, that was the case right now.

Before, Smoke on the Water had always been a great song- one of the best, really. He’s always enjoyed playing it with his dad, and he had a lot of good memories of it. Those memories had never been forgotten, and he looked back on them often.

But now, it was like he was seeing all of those sessions from a new perspective. He wasn’t just playing alongside his dad- he was loving his dad, and his dad was loving him back. Those aspects of the memory were so much clearer now.

From below, he heard stomping- heavy mechanical footsteps that drew closer with every note. And yet, he kept playing, beginning to believe Jeremy was right.

What assured him of this even more was the new song that mingled with his own- Jeremy’s song. It wasn’t coming from any discernible instrument, but from Jeremy himself. The boy watched Martin’s work in awe, barely even registering his own tune.

The songs were so different- one was classic 70s rock, the other was some classical piano piece. And yet, as the deep strings echoed through the room, they began to harmonize- in modern terms, mashup.

It was more than the sum of its parts. The harmony was a message- a message of appreciation to every father who had ever cared for their child, most of all the pair’s own.

Martin and Jeremy’s fathers weren’t perfect. They were human, and so they faltered. But it took so much to do what they had done, and they always led in love.

And Martin and Jeremy loved them right back.

Finally, the melody came to an end. Tears were streaming down both of their faces, but they weren’t exactly sad tears. They were both overcome with waves of emotion, love first among them.

Martin sniffled, then started. “Wait, shouldn’t Bonnie have reached us by now?”

Jeremy paused, wiping his cheek. “Uh, yeah. Maybe.”

Hesitantly, Martin walked over and peeked out his door.

Bonnie stood just outside it.

He screamed and fell back, before regaining his composure and putting his arm in front of Jeremy. “You won’t hurt him!”

He glared at the hideous monster- and realized it wasn’t so hideous and monstrous anymore.

It now looked like an actual Fazbear animatronic. The black mold was gone, and its teeth looked normal as well. Black ooze was pouring out of its eyes, which sounds creepy, but it was less like it was still producing it, and more like it was purging it from its system. And with the way it was pouring out, it looked a lot like human tears- Jeremy’s tears.

It ducked under the door frame and walked in. It fixed its eyes on Jeremy.

Jeremy gestured for Martin to let him pass. He walked up to Bonnie.

“Is- is it time? Are you- am I- ready?”

The rabbit wiped the blackish goo away from its eyes. Already the substance was beginning to dissolve. It shrugged, then seemed to reconsider and nodded.

Jeremy nodded back. “Well,” he said, looking back at Martin, “I guess this is goodbye?”

“Yeah...I guess it is.” Martin said, trying not to show his sadness. “I guess...good luck."

Jeremy ran back to him and hugged him, though his arms only reached halfway up Martin’s torso. “Yeah. Thank you, for everything.”

Jeremy grabbed Bonnie's hand. Both ghostly figures smiled at Martin one more time, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Recovering from the shock, Martin ran towards the door and opened it again, wanting to ask where exactly they were going.

They were gone, as if they’d never been there at all.

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

The universe can often be a cruel place. And yet sometimes, just sometimes, it recognizes when someone should be rewarded.

The next day, Jeffrey would walk into school with a special swagger in his step. The annoying brat...Marcus, right?...was going to get what he deserved.

Sure, he’d kind of exaggerated the wound he’d gotten from the guitar. He’d told the others it broke the skin and was bleeding, when in reality there was just a quickly-fading bruise. Still, he’d be sure to play it up again for the principal, and get that stupid kid expelled.

He was a bit surprised, then, to see the guitar, returned to the case as if it’d never been removed.

He stormed into the principal’s office and demanded they check the security footage. He was shot down pretty quickly on the grounds that the school had no cameras.

Still, he had all the proof he needed. Quickly, Jeffrey texted all of his friends, demanding they send the footage from the parking lot. Within moments, he got a series of unexpected responses- the videos were gone, every single recording.

Jeffrey began to freak out. He claimed that Marcus- er, Martin- had sneaked into their houses and deleted the footage, all in mass conspiracy against him. His tirade led to him insulting the principal, and getting detention for a week.

Later, when Martin arrived at school, a lot of kids came by to ask what had gotten Jeffrey so mad at him. He answered their questions, and eventually most grew bored of him. However, two of them- a boy named Gavin and a girl named Jo- had found him quite friendly and fun.

Soon enough, Martin finally made some friends.

Still, none of that has happened yet. Martin has just woken up, after his long evening of ghost babysitting and music lessons. He walked down the hall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

To his surprise, he saw his dad, frying some eggs.

“Dad!” Martin exclaimed.

“Hey, kiddo!” his dad turned. “You hungry? I’m making breakfast.”

“But don’t you have another late shift tonight? You need sleep.”

“Nope. I quit today. I have a new job now.”

“Really?! Where?”

His dad hesitated. “Well, the thing is...I actually got a job as a music teacher at your school. The pay’s pretty good- better than the diner, at least. I start next week. I know this might be a bit embarrassing for you, but you have to understand that I couldn’t stand working at the diner anymore…”

Dad’s explanation was interrupted by Martin hugging him excitedly. “That’s so great! I’m so happy for you!”

“Really? I thought you’d be at least a little self-conscious of having me at your school.”

Martin smiled softly. “A new friend helped me realize that a father who cares is something to be proud of. I know I haven’t told you this recently, but I love you, Dad.”

Dad gave him a smirk. “Geez, who’s this new friend? I want to thank them.”

“You probably won’t get the chance. He just...moved away.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Hope he likes wherever he’s going.”

“I think he will. He’s got family there, and he’s wanted to go for a long time.”

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

Jeremy and Bonnie, two halves of one whole, walked through the misty landscape. There was a bright light up ahead, shining through the whitish fog.

Jeremy talked to his alter ego, as he had their whole walk. “It’s just...what if he hates me for leaving him alone for all those years?”

“You know- I know- that isn’t true. You heard the song, you understand. He loved you, he loves you, he’ll love you.”

From up ahead, beyond the light, Jeremy heard something. A man and a woman, talking and laughing. One voice familiar, one not, and yet he immediately identified both.

“Mom? Papi?”

A grin came across his face. The grayish tear trails finally vanished from his face.

The boy and the bunny ran forward, never once looking back.

#fnaf #anthology #fazbear frights #cw: gore #five nights at freddy's #horror #bonnie fnaf #bonnie the bunny #jeremy fnaf #missing children's incident

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moby-writing-and-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

The Poke-Zoo: Haupix (NSFW)

The Poké-Zoo: Haupix

Kamon smiled as he walked through the main floor of the former gym, checking on every single plant and object, making sure that every plant was watered, every single chair was set up correctly, and that of the Pokémon had enough food. As he was doing this, however, his attention was drawn away from his task by a beeping from his wrist. Sighing, he lifted his sleeve, revealing a bright red watch-like device, with a rather large screen. Flashing on the screen, in bright red color were the words ‘Father’. Sighing, he pressed the big button beneath the screen, an image of a man wearing what seemed to be a black and magenta military uniform, and a short, buzz cut. Laying at the man’s feet was a large, cat-like Pokémon, which was purring loudly as the man ran his fingers through its fur.

“Hello son,” the man said, his voice deep and carrying an unspoken threat.

“Hello, father,” Kamon said, giving the man a smile, despite the threatening demeanor he was receiving.

“I need an update on the status of the project,” the man said, lifting his hand off the Pokémon “How is the cover working?”

“Good” the young operative reported “The last shipment of Pokémon that you sent arrived yesterday. Combined with the Pokémon from subject A, we ready to open the Zoo to the public”

“Perfect,” his father said, crossing his legs as he got comfy “What about the project itself?”

“Working as intended” Kamon said with a huge grin. “Subject A hasn’t broken the hypnosis at all. All traces of the trainer are completely gone, and all that remains is the obedient PokéBoy”

“Very good,” his father said, the tone of his voice rising slightly, which made a small smile form on the redhead's lips. He knew his father was not a man to show a lot of emotion, but he had learned a long time ago to see small inflections like that representing his happiness or his anger. The man in the meantime pressed a few buttons on his chair’s armrest “The reports from both from you and other operatives, prove that the zoo is working. I sent you an updated list of people of attention”

“Yes sir,” Kamon said, nodding “I hope they're just male though, sir. The process doesn't seem to work on women for some reason. The scientists haven’t been able to figure it out”

“I see,” the man said, crossing his arms “Luckily, that shouldn’t affect this list since all of them are male. Now, I want you to open the zoo as soon as possible. We’re in need of more funding, and the grand opening will boost our income quite considerably.”

“Yes sir,” the redhead said, giving the man a quick salute. The signal cut off without another word, leaving the boy staring at a blank screen. Kamon sighed, running his hands through his scarlet locks. “Sweet Arceus… That was an awkward conversation…” he shook his head and turned around, walking down the dirt path, smirking as he saw many Pokémon dashing from tree to tree, including a small yellow rodent that made the smirk turns into a full-on smile as he exited the artificial jungle and walked to the large wall at the back. The boy walked to a blank looking wall, and felt around it, stopping when he felt the wall dip slightly. He brought hands and pushed the area, the stone dipping into the wall. As soon as he did so, a large chunk of the wall suddenly dipped down to the floor, revealing a metal staircase, with a bright red R stamped on the walls. “Alright then, let’s go take a look at this list…” he muttered, walking down the metallic stairs. The further he went down, the natural light of the zoo disappeared, replaced by the cold, surgical light of the secret facility. Soon, he reached the bottom of the stairs, walking into an enormous round room, with glass cases, all of them the size of a rather large bedroom, lining the walls of the chamber.

He walked in front of the cases to his left, though almost all of them were completely bare. But that wasn’t the case for all of them, as he soon reached the final case of the line, one that was set right next to a very large console. He smiled and looked inside of a room.

The small enclosed space was completely green. Fake grass, leaves, and moss-covered the floor, with a couple of fake trees hanging near the back and a rather large one right in the center, with its branches completely covered in leaves

“Pasi!” came a squeal from inside the enclosure. Suddenly, the leaves of the center tree began shaking violently, and suddenly someone popped out from it, hanging upside down from a branch. It was Kamon’s last subject. The boy was formerly known as Ash Ketchum. The PokéBoy’s face was split by a huge smile as he saw Kamon walk close, and he jumped off the tree, landing on his bare feet without issue, before dashing over to the glass, giving his master a look of complete adoration.

“Hello, Pasimian,” Kamon said, looking at the PokéBoy’s eyes “Happy to see me?”

“Simian!” the PokéBoy exclaimed, nodding rapidly. Kamon chuckled as his eyes traveled downwards, seeing the snow-white rod sticking out and twitching from between the PokéBoy’s legs

“Hehe, I can see that” Kamon giggled. Pasiamian smiled and rubbed his crotch against the glass. The smile on the redhead's face grew even bigger as he cooed at the boy “Oh, alright. I’ll let you out” he reached the wall over to the left, pressing a large blue button. The glass separating Kamon and Passimian began to lower, clearing the way. The PokéBoy didn’t wait for a second, he jumped out and began nuzzling Kamon’s legs. “Hehe, I love you too boy,” he said, reaching down and rubbing Pasimian’s twitching erection, making the rubber-coated boy moan loudly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as pleasure ran through his body. “Who’s a good boy?”

“P-Pasi!” Pasimian chirped through the arousal, giving his master a toothy smile.

“That's right! You are!” Kamon exclaimed, taking his hand off the twitching erection and running it through the white hair of the PokéBoy. Pasimian smiled and leaned into the hand, a dopey smile on his face. “Now, we can't play for too long, Pasimian”

“Simi?” the PokéBoy asked, pouting slightly in disappointment

“I know” Kamon cooed, running his hands over the PokéBoy’s rubbery body, making him moan loudly “But I have to work today, but if it all works out, you’ll have a new friend to play with!”

“Pasi!” the rubber-coated boy cheered, before his eyes locked onto Kamon’s crotch. Giggling, the redhead boy patted his pet’s head

“Not right now, Passimian,” he said. He led the boy back to his room and closed the glass by tapping on the red button “Hmm, maybe I should get you some toys to play with while you're alone” he muttered as he walked away, the PokéBoy turning around and climbing the tree. Kamon smiled as began typing on the console, the monitor lighting up and showing that he had just received files. He opened it and whistled at the size “Damn… Looks like we’re going preemptive this time around…” he typed away as more and more files were transferred. After around a minute, he had the complete list of his persons of interest. “Alright, let’s see who we’ve got… Gary, Ritchie, Paul… Quite a good few boys in here” he muttered as he opened up another window, showing his inventory of suits. All of the vats, except for the one currently being worn by his pet, were flashing green “Well, looks like this might be a big job” he smiled as he minimized the window and turned around, heading back to the zoo proper. “I’ll see you tonight, Passimian!” he called as he left. The PokéBoy wasn’t really paying attention, as he was sucking on his toes as he jerked off. The lights outside the small enclosure turned off, leaving the small glass box to be the only source of light. Kamon smiled as the large stone wall covered the entrance back up, and he looked over the whole area.

“Welp,” he said, beginning to walk through the plants “Guess it's time for the grand opening”

/=======Two Days Later======\

“Wow!” the green-haired boy exclaimed as he leaned window of the train, a huge smile on his face as he saw the trees fly past his face, and a few bird Pokémon he had never seen fly past.

“Excuse me sir,” one of the crew members said behind him, “But you're not allowed to that”

“Oh right,” the boy said, smiling as he pulled back and looked at the man “Sorry, I got a bit over-excited”

“Oh? Have you ever been to Veridian?”

“Nope,” the boy said, shaking his head. This was Hau’s first time ever outside of Alola, actually. His grandfather recommend Kanto since it was the closest and cheapest to reach by boat. After Hau beat the island challenge, he tried to convince his grandad to let him become the new Kahuna. However, he told him that he wasn’t ready to do it and that he hadn’t seen enough of the world to truly achieve the position. He suggested he go and compete in a Pokémon league of another region and see more of the world.

The dark-skinned boy was more than happy to accept and he hopped on the first boat to Kanto, landing in a port city called Vermillion, where he battled his first gym. After that, he had hopped onto the train and sped down here, ready to battle for his new badge.

“I’m from Alola” he explained to the man “I came here to compete in the season’s Indigo league”

“I see,” the employee said with a smile “So, have you beaten any gyms yet?”

“Yep,” Hau said as he rested his hands on the back of his head “Just beat that Surge guy back in Vermillion”

“Nice, Surge can be kinda tough for first-timers to the gym circuits”

“Yeah, that garbage can puzzle was a pain” the green-haired boy muttered, shaking his head “But now, I’m ready to deal with the next gym in Viridian!”

“Oh, you don’t know?” the employee asked

“Know what?” the dark-skinned boy asked, looking up at the man in confusion

“There isn’t a gym in Viridian City anymore” the man admitted

“W-What? Why not!?” Hau asked

“The gym leader turned out to be a crime boss and they never managed to get someone else to become the leader, so they decided to sell the building and be done with it”

“Aw man, that sucks!” Hau groaned, throwing himself against the chair “I got on the train for nothing then!”

“Not necessarily,” the man told him with a smile “Viridian is really close to Pewter, so you can head over there to continue the gym. Plus there’s the zoo”

“Zoo?” Hau asked, perking up a bit “What zoo?”

“Well, they decided that tearing the old gym down was too expensive, so they sold it to a guy who turned it into a Pokémon zoo. They were having a grand opening for these past few days, actually” the man pulled out a small paper from his coat “Here, they gave us a bunch of these to hand out”

“Oh, thanks,” Hau said as he took the paper and quickly skimmed over it. “Grand opening…” he read “All are welcome…. Trainers enter free… Wow, that’s really nice of them!”

“It is” the employee said with a nod “Since its the first-ever zoo opened here in Kanto, they really want to make sure that they get a lot of good business” before either of them could say another word, the train’s wheel’s screeched as a deep voice rang through the train’s PA

“Attention passengers,” the conductor said “We have arrived at the Viridian City station. Please keep the halls clear so that people may leave without issues”

“Oh! Guess I’m getting off” Hau said with a big smile on his face as he hopped onto his feet and gave the man a quick smile as he ran out of the cabin “Thanks for the info, man!”

“No problem,” the man said, waving him goodbye. As soon as the boy had left his sight, the man stepped into the cabin and shut the door behind him. He pulled out a small walkie talkie and held it up to his face. “Target has arrived in Viridian. Bait has been planted, waiting for a response, over”

“Understood, Gatekeeper” the young voice of Kamon rang through the speaker “Awaiting contact. Maintain your post. You will be informed when a new target is on approach”

“Understood,” the man said, pocketing the Walkie Talkie and walking outside the cabin, smirking as he saw Hau running down the street from the window.

/=============\

Hau’s face was split into two by an enormous smile as he walked in between the large buildings of Viridian City.

“Woah” he muttered as he weaved from one to the other, crossing the streets and every once in awhile bumping into people. But after walking around for a while, he came to a stop in a big stone plaza with a big fountain in the center. He took a seat on the rim of the thing and looked around, seeing a rather large building close by, where a group of people was walking away, a couple of kids holding balloons

“That was a ton of fun, mom!” one of the kids said, skipping next to his mother “Can we go back to the zoo tomorrow?”

“I don’t think we can tomorrow, Joey,” the woman said with a smile, “We do have to go shopping tomorrow. And I’m gonna get you a new pair of shorts”

“Yay!” the boy squealed as the pair walked away, making Hau giggle a little

“No matter what region you go to, there’s a kid obsessed with shorts” he muttered as he looked at the building where the two had come from. It was a tall, brick building with a large white staircase in front of it. The Alolan boy pulled out the flyer he had been given and skimmed over it, seeing a picture of that very building printed on it. “Guess that’s the zoo…” he muttered as he looked at it before a big smile broke on his face “Welp, I did come over, might as well see it!” he hopped to his feet and jogged over to it. As he approached, he saw small groups of people moving back and heading away from the building, chartering and smiling between them, a lot of kids happily skipping with their parents, big balloons in tow. “Man, this place must be doing really well,” he said as he approached the stairs. As he reached the top, he saw a boy around his age standing there, with a mop of bright red hair and a pair of overalls, which were completely caked in mud

“Thank you for coming!” he called to the people leaving, waving happily “Come again! I hope you enjoyed your time here!”

“Wow, you're running the place?” Hau asked as he approached the boy

“Pretty much,” the redhead said with a smile, “I’m Kamon, nice to meet you”

“I’m Hau,” the alolan said, “Nice to meet you too.”

“Anyways, yeah. My dad technically owns the place, but he’s away so often, I’m pretty much the owner of the place”

“Wow, that’s a lot of work for you alone…” Hau muttered as he walked to the door

“It can be a bit much sometimes, yeah” Kamon admitted “But most days, I really enjoy it. So I really don’t mind too much” he looked at Hau “Hey, are you a trainer?”

“Yeah” Hau said with a nod “I though the gym here was still open”

“Hehehe, you're the second one I’ve gotten recently” Kamon admitted as he went inside “Come on, trainers get in free, after all”

“Oh right! I forgot!” Hau exclaimed as he walked inside. His eyes went wide as he saw the place. Trees completely covered the area, with hundreds of Pokémon moving from one tree to the other. He even heard the telltale sound of splashing water he was extremely familiar with.

“Impressive, right?” Kamon asked, a proud smile on his face

“Yeah” the dark-skinned boy muttered, his mouth hanging open “This place used to be a gym?”

“Yeah,” Kamon said as he led the green-haired boy through the wooded area. Pikachu, Toucannons and hundreds of other Pokémon that Hau didn’t recognize skirted around above them. As they walked Kamon walked to a rock and tapped the top of it, with the side cracking open with a hiss

“Woah! That’s awesome!” Hau exclaimed as he saw the other boy pull out a big bag of what seemed to be food

“Yeah,” the young zoo-keeper said as he tipped the bag on the ground, releasing a pile of poke-kibble onto the floor “Dad wanted the place to look as realistic as possible, so almost everything in here is disguised as either a rock or a plant or something like that”

“That’s so awesome!” Hau said, turning around and walking a little ways from the other boy, into a small thicket. As he approached, he heard the ruffling as a small yellow Pokémon poked its head out. “Aww, hey there little guy” he cooed as he petted the Pikachu’s head. The Pokémon chirped and leaned into the hand, enjoying the sensation of a human’s hand running through its fur. “This guy is really nice. Most wild Pokémon are skittish around humans”

“Yeah, he’s a bit special,” Kamon said as he poured food right next to Hau “the first visitor to the zoo wasn’t able to take care of him anymore, so he left him here to live happily”

“I see” Hau muttered as the Pikachu jumped to the food and began chowing down happily.

“Hey, could you do me a favor?” Kamon asked. The alolan boy happily nodded “Thanks, man. Could you go leave this bag over on the disposal area?” he handed the empty burlap sack to Hau, who stood back up and looked around

“Where is that?”

“Oh right, sorry,” Kamon said with a blush. He pointed at one of the trees on the other side “That tree there isn’t real. The lowest branch is a lever that opens up the chute for garbage.”

“Ah, got it,” the green-haired boy said with a smile. He walked over to the tree and tightly wrapped his hand around the branch. He pulled on it, hard. The branch moved downwards with a loud click.

Hau looked down, expecting a hole to open up on the ground, but instead, something else happened. He didn’t see as two nozzles popped out of the tree and sprayed a shiny dust into his face

“GAH!” he exclaimed, as he stumbled on his feet as the dust flew into his mouth and nose. As it entered, a strange sense of drowsiness began to flow over him. “S-Sleep…. P-Powder….” he muttred as he fell back on his but.

“Yep,” Kamon said as he walked closer. Looking at the boy, Hau’s eyes went wide as he saw that his mouth was covered with a facemask. The redhead didn't say anything as he pulled the branch back into position “Sleep Powder works great for making people fall asleep”

“W-Why are you….” the Alolan boy muttered as his eyebrows became heavier and heavier. It was starting to become a challenge to keep them that way.

“Shh, that doesn't matter right now, Hau” Kamon whispered, “Right now, sleep.” Hau wasn’t able to say another word, as his eyebrows slammed shut and he fell backward onto the grass, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep instantly.

/=============\

“GAH!” Hau gasped as he sat up, his eyes going around wildly as he panted. He wasn’t in the zoo anymore, instead, he was in what seemed to be a completely metal room, with the walls a deep shade of purple, nearly pitch black. The only break in that was that to his left was a large, scarlet-colored R.

“Oh good, you're awake!” a familiar voice said. Looking ahead, Hau frowned as he saw Kamon walking closer to him, but he was wearing something completely different. Gone where the overalls and boots, instead the boy was almost completely naked, wearing nothing more than a shiny black speedo with a red R, like the one on the wall, plastered right on top of the boy’s crotch. Despite his anger at the situation, Hau’s cheeks lit up scarlet as the boy approached him.

“W-Where are your clothes?” Hau asked, trying his hardest to not stare at the only bit of clothing his captor was wearing

“Really?” Kamon asked with a nasty chuckle “You wake up in a metal room tied to the wall after you get drugged and your first question is why I’m wearing a speedo?”

“Hey!” Hau shouted, jumping to his feet and charing to the boy “Shut u- GAAAH!” he cried as he tumbled back onto the floor, coughing violently as he felt something stop him by the throat. He spat a little as he got to his knees and looked to the wall, seeing a thin, black cable winding from it and towards him. Reaching up, he felt a thing metal clamp wrapped around his neck and tethering him to the wall.

“I did say you were tied to the wall, Hau,” Kamon said with a smile as he walked around the boy “Guess you aren’t the best listener, now are you?”

“W-Why are you doing this?” Hau shouted, tugging at his leash as the boy walked closer to him “I-I haven’t done anything!”

“Oh, I know,” Kamon said, giving Hau a smile that sent shivers down the alolan boy’s spine “Thing is, this has more to do with who you are, rather than what you’ve done”

“W-What are you talking bout?” Hau stammered, looking at the boy standing over him

“You're the grandchild of the Kahuna of Melemele Island” the redhead explained “And my father’s agents in Alola have confirmed that he’s grooming you to become his replacement.” he turned around and smiled at Hau “So, he determined that you were too much of a threat, as all the effort of planting agents and spies around Hala would have gone right out the window, the moment you took charge. So, he decided it would be faster to just get rid of you and keep whispering into your grandpa’s ear”

“S-Spies? Agents?” Hau gaped, his eyes going wide at the implications of what the other boy was telling him “A-Are you going to kill me?”

“Kill you?” Kamon repeated, a look of disgust coming over his face “Of course not! My father is a lot of things, but he doesn't assassinate people!”

“W-Who is he?” Hau stammered out, his eyes going around wildly as he tried to see a way to escape his bonds

“You really don't know?” Kamon asked, shaking his head, “You really didn’t do a lot of reading about Kanto before you came over, did you? My father is the leader of Team Rocket” Kamon smirked as he pointed at the giant R on the wall

“T-Team Rocket?”

“Yes. And before you compare them, they are nothing like that gang of losers that like to bum around Alola” Kamon said with a glare “Team Skull is a bunch of morons with no future. Team Rocket, on the other hand, is an actual organization preparing to go international. We have a tight grip over Kanto, and we’re making good progress into Johto. Sure, there were a few…. Setbacks in Unova recently, but that doesn't matter” he crouched down, looking at Hau right in the eyes “And your grandpa is unknowingly the perfect pawn for us to get into Alola. And with you out of the way, we can convince him to have a new, more agreeable protege to make Kahuna”

“Y-You-” Hau tried to say as tears began to form in his eyes “You won’t get away with this! M-My grandpa will come looking for me!”

“Oh, he won’t,” Kamon said, patting the boy’s head before standing up and walking a little further back “You see, we managed to get a sample of your handwriting from your bag. It shouldn’t take too long for a few of our people to master your writing style, and then we just need to send a few letters explaining how you decided to stay in Kanto, working at a gym. He’ll never suspect a thing, just thinking you grew up and went your own way.”

“N-No…” Hau whispered as what his captor said sunk in. It was a perfect plot, as long as they managed to keep him from escaping his grandpa would never know it wasn't him sending letters. Tears began to flow out of his eyes as reality sank in

“Oh, don’t cry,” Kamon said as he walked back, a bucket in one hand, while the other was clad in a weird-looking, skin-tight glove

“Why shouldn't I!?” the boy cried, his eyes red from tears “I can’t go back home, you took all of my Pokémon, and you're going to do Solgaleo know what to me!”

“Well, I’m gonna make sure that you're not sad anymore,” his captor said with a smile as he reached over to the wall. Looking over, Hau’s eyes went wide as he saw what seemed to be a control panel of some kind. “I think you should get back on your feet for this one”

Before Hau could respond, his captor slammed his hand on the biggest button. Hau gasped as he felt the cable attached to his collar begin to quickly recede back into the wall, and tugging roughly at the collar as it went

“GAGH!” he choked as he dashed back to the wall, trying to make sure the collar didn’t choke him too much. He ended up flat against the wall, the collar not letting him move an inch from that position

“There we go! That’s perfect!” Kamon said with a nasty smile as he set the bucket down and slipped on another latex glove. “Now, let’s see if these things work…”

“S-See if what works?” Hau coughed, as he looked at his captor reach into the bucket. Kamon smirked as he pulled something out, a rather disgusting squelching sound ringing through the whole room as he did so

SPLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACH

As his hand left the bucket, Hau could see what it was. It was a ball, around the size of a malasada, and colored a weird, pale red. The thing was dripping rubber as Kamon lifted it up and smiled at Hau

“Batter up!” he exclaimed, before throwing the ball at Hau.

“AAAH!” the boy screamed as he felt the thing splat right onto his arm. He shuddered as the goo wrapped itself around his arm, and seemed to bond with his flesh, sending waves of strange sensations through his body. They coursed through his whole body and went right to his crotch, forming a small tent in his bright yellow short “Gyah!” he gasped, looking over to were the goo hit him. It was completely solid and shiny, which seems to be a piece of larger latex suit. It was the same soft shade of red as the ball. Before he could react, another glob smacked into him, this time, in the chest. “Gyah!” he moaned loudly as he felt more sparks of arousal flowing through. He glanced down, his eyes widening as he saw the thing eating away at his T-Shirt. It completely dissolved the black cloth, leaving only the latex clinging to his skin

“Wow, these things do eat through clothing” Kamon exclaimed with a nasty smirk as he looked at the bucked, before reaching in with both hands “Let’s speed this up a bit, shall we Hau?”

“Guaah” the bound boy moaned, unable to make a coherent response. Kamon simply shrugged and kept on throwing globs at him. The Alolan boy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He had never, in his entire life, felt this much arousal and pleasure. As more and more globs hit his body, dissolving his clothes and sending more and more heat to his twitching member, he began to pant.

As more latex stuck to his body, his clothes were slowly completely destroyed. After a few minutes, his black t-shirt was completely gone, replaced by a shiny, light red coat of latex with his chest and stomach being covered by a light cream shade, which began to creep downwards towards his pants, which were tensing under the strain of his ever hardening dick, which twitched more and more as heat coursed down to it, the latex making the pleasure centers of his body go into overload. The tent on what remained of his pants was extremely strained, especially as more of the bright yellow cloth around it was eaten away by the shiny rubber, which hugged his legs perfectly. Soon, the only piece of cloth left was the small patch of yellow that was holding back his penis.

“Wow, you’re really pent up, aren’t you?” Kamon asked, a nasty smirk on his face as he looked at the collared boy.

“Gah… gah…” Hau panted, shivering as more pleasure coursed through his body.

“Yeah, I can tell” Kamon giggled, pointing at the huge tent on the small patch of clothes that remained on the boy. Hau’s face went even more red, shame flooding through his whole body “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it” the redhead boy said with a nasty smile as he lifted another glob of latex. The bound alolan’s eyes went wide as his captor threw the latex

SPLAT!

“GYAAAAAAAH!” Hau both screamed and moaned as the latex dissolved the cloth. His erect member bounced out, twitching and with a small bit of liquid already beginning to form on the head. The rubber didn’t stop there though, as it began to quickly wrap itself around the twitching rod, gently squeezing and massaging it as the goo began to stick to his skin. “G-Gyah!” he panted as he looked down at his cock. It was still twitching and dripping, only it was now the coloration of his torso. The top of his shaft was pale red, and the bottom area, along with his now latex coated balls, where the light cream color of his chest. He groaned as he felt the rubber move to his ass as well, entering it and completely coating his hole.

“There we go!” Kamon chirped, dropping the now-empty bucket and slapping the button on the wall again.

“Gah...Gah... Gyah!” the Alolan boy exclaimed as the wire of the collar loosened instantly, making him collapse to the ground like a crumpled piece of paper, his latex coated ass sticking upwards, exposing his twitching latexy hole to his captor.

“And now, for the final touches,” Kamon said with a big smile on his face as he looked at the panting alolan boy. Like his last victim, the suit didn’t cover the whole of Hau’s body. His arms were uncovered from his elbows and below, the same with his legs, the latex stopping right before the knees, and leaving the boy’s tanned skin and feet exposed to the world.

“F-Final… gah… touches?” Hau managed to pant out. Kamon didn’t answer, instead simply smirking as he walked to the same spot where he got the bucket and pulled out more things.

“Of course,” he said as he walked back to Hau, who was still too overwhelmed by the arousal and pleasure that was coursing through him to try and move. Kamon smiled and held up what he had grabbed. A silvery spray can, and a huge, puffy latex Vulpix tails. Six bright orange curled up shiny tails with a huge dildo sticking out at the base of it. His captor didn’t say another word, instead of crouching right next to Hau’s butt. Without another word, he shoved the tail-plug into the other boy’s exposed hole

“Gaaaaah!” the boy moaned loudly as the dildo slid inside of his latex coated hole. The phallic object sent even more waves of arousal and pleasure through his entire body as it slowly moved downwards. It stopped right before his prostate, the very tip a few centimeters from touching it. “Gah gah gah gah gah gah gah gah” the boy panted, his tongue hanging out. Kamon didn’t stop for a second, quickly getting back to his feet and walking to the head of the boy. He pointed the can at the boy and pressed the button on top of the can. A spray of bright orange mist flew out from it, as Kamon waved it over Hau’s hair. Whatever was in the can, it completely recolored his hair in a few seconds. His locks went from the dark green to bright orange, the same shade as his new tail.

“There we go!” Kamon exclaimed with a huge smile as he stepped back and took off his latex gloves. “You look a lot better like this!”

“U-Up yours!” the boy panted, glaring at his captor.

“Oh dear,” Kamon said, in sickly sweet tone “Looks like you need a little attitude adjustment” he walked back to the panel on the wall and pressed a few buttons. Hau gasped as he felt the collar around his neck heat up slightly and, despite the fact he couldn’t see it, a bunch of lights turned on it.

“W-What are you doing?” Hau stammered, stumbling to his feet, moaning as he did so

“Oh, nothing,” Kamon said with a smirk “Just making sure that you're a good little Vulpix” with a huge smile on his face, he smacked a button on the control panel. The lights on the collar turned bright red as a strong vibration went through all of Hau’s body. His eyes went wide as the vibrations and a few shocks went through him.

“Perfect” Kamon said as he looked at the panel. On the small screen on it, a small visual of Hau’s brain, along with a bunch of files “Perfect. Let’s get started on reprogramming!” he pressed another button, and an even stronger shock went through Hau’s body. His pupils dilated as his body became rigid. He stood straight as an arrow, lights now shining on both the collar and the cable connecting him to the wall. “Alright. Open folder”

“Folder open,” the latex bound boy said in a dead monotone “One file located. Hau.EXE”

“Good,” Kamon said, tapping a few buttons on the console. The lights changed to bright green as new info was uploaded into Hau’s brain

“New file detected. Vulpix.EXE.”

“Overwrite all of Hau.EXE with Vulpix.EXE” Kamon ordered. There wasn’t a visual response from Hau, but the flashes and beeps from the console in front of him made the young Rocket member smile.

“Understood” the boy droned “Names has been overwritten, Hau has been replaced with Vulpix. Movement has been overwritten, movement is now dependent on four legs. Memory has been deleted. Species has been overwritten, human has been replaced with PokéBoy. Obedience has been added. New master has been accepted, Kamon is now master. Master is to be obeyed. Sexuality has been overwritten, bisexuality has been replaced with gay. Love has been overwritten, family, Pokémon and malasadas have been replaced with cock, cum, master, and PokéBoys. Emotions have been overwritten. All emotions except happiness, neediness, and arousal have been deleted. Language has been overwritten, English has been replaced with- pix. Vul Vulpix pix vul” he stopped speaking understandable language halfway through his sentence, any trace of speaking the English language being wiped from his brain.

“There we go” Kamon said with a big smile. A bright green 100% flashed on the screen on the console. He tapped a few more and the collar snapped in half and fell to the metal floor with a loud clunk.

The newly made PokéBoy blinked rapidly as consciousness returned to him. He fell down to the ground, getting on all fours and smiling. His eyes locked onto the figure in front of him and a huge grin formed “Vul! Pix pix!” he exclaimed, dashing over to his master.

“Hehehe, good boy, Vulpix!” Kamon cooed as he ran his hands through the PokéBoy’s orange hair “You want to play?”

“Vulpix!” the PokéBoy yipped happily, quickly turning around and presenting his ass to his master.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Kamon said with a giggled. He grabbed the large tail from Vulpix’s ass and pulled it out.

“Pix!” the PokéBoy moaned, a big dumb smile on his face as the dildo of its tail was pulled free of his butt. His master didn’t waste a second, throwing off his speedo and slipping his cock into the rubbery hole

“Gah! Oh yeah!” Kamon moaned as he thrust into the PokéBoy “This is amazing!”

“Vuuuuuuul!” Vulpix moaned loudly as he felt his master slap against his rubbery ass. This was everything the PokéBoy could ever want.

“Hell yes!” Kamon screamed as he kept thrusting “Man, if all of the targets on the list are like this, I’m gonna really like this job!” he buckled and came, filling the other PokéBoy’s but with cum. He smiled and pulled his dick out, still dripping with semen and patted Vulpix on the head “Well, let’s get ya to your room, Vulpix. I think I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you” he smiled as he saw the white liquid spilling out of the PokéBoy’s asshole “Hehe, guess I’ll have to mop up after I lock you up”

==================

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#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #aged up characters #mind control #brainwashing

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scriveyner · 2 years ago

Text

always summer #10

always summer #10: threesome | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1800 words

Atsushi was in the bathroom, toweling off from his shower when he heard something shatter.

Continue on ao3 or:

He slid the towel off his head, lifting it and frowning; the broken glass sound was accompanied by a solid thump-thump-thump—and then the wall that separated the bathroom from the rest of the loft shook and he slung himself out the door and around the corner, holding the towel around his hips closed with one hand. “What the hell—” he trailed off and stared.

Akutagawa stood on the bed, still wearing an open shirt and his shorts, Rashomon rippling in red off the Hawaiian-print shirt; his attention was focused not on Atsushi’s interruption but the Akutagawa that was hanging from the ceiling, Rashomon embedded firmly in the exposed wooden beams. He was dressed not quite identically, but in clothes that Akutagawa had definitely worn; one of Atsushi’s tee shirts and differently colored board shorts.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Atsushi asked, as calmly as one could manage given the fact that Akutagawa seemed to have replicated when his back was turned.

They spoke in stereo. “I am dealing with an enemy attack, weretiger.” Both Akutagawas looked startled at the fact they spoke in unison, and two different-colored Rashomon tentacles struck at each other in reaction.

Both the red and blue Rashomon heads were caught in mid-air by Atsushi’s enormous tiger paws. He cleared the bed easily and snatched them out of the air, dragging the ability with him as he landed on the floor on the other side of the bed. Ceiling Akutagawa dropped slightly, dragged unexpectedly, but he recovered, hand over his mouth.

“STOP,” Atsushi bellowed, still holding the snatched ability. He pointed at Hawaiian shirt Akutagawa. “No one knows where we are right now, this isn’t an enemy attack. Did you get whammied by an ability while we were out?”

“Weretiger,” Ceiling Akutagawa said derisively, “what makes you think he is the real one of us?”

Atsushi stared at him. “Well, for one thing, you brought that up, which is suspect, and for two, that’s the outfit he was wearing when we went swimming and was still wearing when I got in the shower.”

Hawaiian shirt Akutagawa smirked at his counterpart, and Ceiling Akutagawa looked perplexed by this. He dropped from the ceiling, using Rashomon to lower himself softly to the floor at the foot of the bed, arms folded. “We went swimming yesterday,” he said petulantly,” and Atsushi finally released the Rashomon heads.

“Cool, so you’re from the future. Okay, cool. Cool cool cool.” Atsushi clapped his hands, looking at his Akutagawa, still standing in the center of the bed. “You totally got whammied when we were out yesterday.”

“Hardly,” Akutagawa sniffed. “I was with you the majority of the time. He,” Akutagawa gestured at his other self with his head, “is likely the culprit who is under the thrall of an ability.”

“Whatever,” Atsushi said. “We’ll have to wait for Dazai-san to get back and he can undo,” he gestured at formerly-ceiling-Akutagawa, “all this.” He went to fix the towel on his hips and realized it did not hold up to athletic tiger leaping and was lying, torn, on the other side of the room. Only now recognizing his nudity, he flushed and turned slightly away.

Both Akutagawa exchanged a glance that put Atsushi immediately on his guard. “In the meantime,” his Akutagawa said, “we could, perhaps, take advantage of this unique situation.”

The other Akutagawa caught on immediately and smirked.

Atsushi looked between them, uncertain if he liked the tone of this conversation. “Take advantage of this how? I think it’s better to send him,” he pointed to the Akutagawa standing at the foot of the bed, “home—you’re giving me a weird look, Akutagawa, I don’t—”

The red-tinged Rashomon from Akutagawa’s Hawaiian shirt shot out, looping around his chest and yanking him back not unlike a vaudeville hook. Atsushi let out an undignified oof, landing square in the center of the mattress, at Akutagawa’s feet. “I hate you,” Atsushi said, arms folded and flat on his back in the bed, looking up at Akutagawa.

Akutagawa, arms folded as well, favored Atsushi with a smirk. “Seriously, weretiger. I am disappointed in your creative vision.”

“What creative vision, I just took a shower! We were gonna get the grill started for dinner!” Atsushi pushed up on his elbows as the other Akutagawa climbed onto the bed, knees planted outside of Atsushi’s legs, and finally, the mental math added up for Atsushi. “Wait,” he said, as that Akutagawa stripped off his tee shirt. “I…oh, oh—”

“Yeah, oh,” Akutagawa said, kneeling behind Atsushi and catching his jaw, turning his head to kiss him.

~*~

The Akutagawas were only easy to keep track of at first, as his Akutagawa kept the Hawaiian shirt on for longer than necessary; but before too long they were both entirely naked in the bed with Atsushi and he lost track of who was who.

One Akutagawa had his mouth on Atsushi’s dick, sucking in just the way he liked, mouthing up and down the shaft; the other was behind him, keeping him distracted with kisses and nipping at his bottom lip, hands roaming freely down Atsushi’s chest. After a bit, they would switch positions, the sheets coming alive around them as competing Rashomon heads emerged, and Atsushi was a little too overwhelmed to keep dealing with it.

At one point both were laving attention onto his dick, taking turns sucking the head, fondling his balls, kissing spots Atsushi never thought he’d have a mouth on. He pushed his hands up his face, watching identical dark heads bobbing between his legs was too fucking much and he went to grab one of them off before he blew his load.

An Akutagawa caught his hand, kept ahold of it, and didn’t let up. “Weretiger, if you’re going to come,” one Akutagawa hummed, licking up his shaft.

“Then don’t hold back,” the other finished, squeezing his hand, dark eyes bright under the overhead lights.

Atsushi thumped his head back into the bed and released, unsure whose mouth was on his dick and not really caring anymore at this point. He felt one mouth pop off and another slide on, cleaning him, as he lay back with his arm over his eyes, chest heaving, every trailing lick of a tongue electric. The stimulation was too much, he couldn’t take it.

“Stop, stop,” he choked out, pushing off an Akutagawa head. He didn’t get smacked for touching, although both Akutagawas exchanged a significant look while Atsushi still lay up on one elbow, panting audibly.

Akutagawa dragged Atsushi to the edge of the bed, and he went, relaxed, all his muscles like jelly still. “What are you doing?” he wondered aloud as that Akutagawa spread his legs, pushed his hips up, and slid slick fingers inside. Atsushi’s breath immediately rattled out of his lungs, he choked and thumped the bed with one hand, electricity slicing through him like blades.

“Little deeper,” the other Akutagawa said, clearly supervising, and Atsushi didn’t get a chance to bring his voice into the discussion before Akutagawa’s nimble fingers were pressing directly into that spot, and he saw white scatter at the edges of his vision. If he wasn’t still soft that would have drawn another orgasm, but as it was, he shuddered in place.

“You’ll need more than two,” the supervising Akutagawa said, and the Akutagawa with his fingers in Atsushi’s ass snapped back, “I know.”

“Need more than two for what?” Atsushi managed to ask as Akutagawa nudged a third in and he gulped air.

Akutagawa straddled him, allowing his cock to leak across Atsushi’s chest. The vision of Akutagawa’s dick so close made Atsushi wet his lips and forget what was happening for a few brief seconds until those fingers withdrew and something different took their place. “Oh,” Atsushi gasped, hands grabbing Akutagawa’s thighs for purchase as the other Akutagawa thrust slowly in.

The Akutagawa straddling him glanced back over his shoulder, still supervising. “To your satisfaction?” Akutagawa said dryly, and the one straddling his chest responded, “I need your assistance.”

Atsushi was panting shallowly through his mouth, focused more on the immediate sensation of fullness, Akutagawa splitting him open inch by agonizing inch; his eyes shot open when a hand started stroking his sensitive dick. With an Akutagawa straddling his belly he couldn’t quite see what was going on, but then Akutagawa leaned down and kissed him, distracting him further.

“How does it feel, having me inside you?” he asked, and Atsushi laughed breathlessly, wild with it.

“Good,” he managed, following Akutagawa as much as he could as the other withdrew, seeking another kiss. “Full, you’re filling me up so much—”

Akutagawa continued to smirk at him, sliding back, his cock leaving shiny trails of slick on Atsushi’s chest. He lifted himself enough that Atsushi could see the other Akutagawa holding his dick—and then the hands changed, as Akutagawa pressed Atsushi’s dick against himself, letting out a small, satisfied sound as the head pushed past his rim and he settled, sinking slowly down Atsushi’s cock.

Atsushi’s eyes crossed.

He couldn’t focus on one sensation over the other; Akutagawa was tight and hot and just slick enough that the friction was delicious, but at the same time Akutagawa’s cock was punching out its shape into his insides, rocking long slow thrusts in and out. It was way, way, way too much.

Atsushi panted for air like a suffocating fish, neither Akutagawa bother much to match their rhythm, one bouncing on his cock, riding him hard and the other fucking solidly into him; Atsushi clawed Akutagawa’s thighs bloody as he came again, the orgasm white-hot and painful. His head thudded back into the blankets, and Akutagawa tilted forward, jamming his palm right under Atsushi’s ribs.

“Stop making noises like that,” he hissed, and Atsushi blinked up at him, bewildered. He did it again and the sharp pain yanked him out from under, Akutagawa’s elbow digging directly into his solar plexus.

Atsushi whimpered and rolled away, flopping onto his back and staring, utterly confused, into the darkness above their bed. “What,” he gasped, arms folded over his stomach. “What, what—”

“Did you just rut yourself to completion against me in your sleep?” Akutagawa was rubbing his inner thigh, the covers kicked down, and Atsushi was beyond sticky. “What the hell, weretiger, what were you dreaming about so vividly that you had to ejaculate on me asleep?”

Panting, Atsushi covered his open mouth with his hand, the memory of two sets of hands seared into his flesh. “…you, of course,” he finally managed, and he could hear Akutagawa grow still in the darkness. Before his eyes could finally adjust, a pillow socked him full in the face.

“Go clean up,” Akutagawa said hotly. “And regardless, completely unacceptable. The next time you want to dream about fucking me, you can actually fuck me, I am right here.”

Atsushi rolled, kicking off his soiled underwear, cock still hard and hanging heavy between his legs as he got on his knees. “If you insist,” he growled, pushing Akutagawa down into the sheets and kissing him.

#bungou stray dogs #kinktober #sskk #shin soukoku #lemony fresh

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wolfsclothing6 · 2 years ago

Text

“Hey dad, do you know what’s going on with Ed? He hasn’t been there for any of our college classes this whole week and he hadn’t been answering his phone either.”

“Maybe he’s not feeling too well? I don’t know what else would keep him from attending his classes.” John says, trying to assure his son that his friend is alright.

“I thought that might have been it but yesterday I saw this older guy parking his truck in their driveway. The way he went about it almost looked like he lived there or something. They couldn’t have just moved out without telling anyone, right?”

John frowns, he didn’t think it was likely, surely Ed’s father, Hank, would have mentioned something about that beforehand. Besides John hadn’t seen any moving trucks at their place.

“Maybe he’s just some relative staying over with them?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right dad, it’s still so weird though… I’ve seen him smoking a cigar in front of Ed’s house when I was on my way home from class and the way he stared at me just gave me the goosebumps..”

John nodded, now that Will had mentioned it, he had noticed a few odd looking characters like that around the neighborhood over these past couple days. All of them large, older, cigar smoking men with grey beards on their faces, who stared straight at him whenever he passed them on the street.

“I think I know what you mean son, I saw someone like that yesterday. Guy was built like a truck and looked like he might have gotten lost on his way to some country fair with that whole cowboy getup. But the strangest thing was that when I took a look at his face, it almost seemed familiar in a way.”

John still couldn’t figure out why he thought that though, he would have definitely remembered seeing someone like that before. Even now he was having trouble getting rid of the mental image of the man’s enormous gut that spilled over his belt and his huge, hirsute, gorilla arms. He must have really enjoyed showing those off, why else would he be wearing nothing underneath that skimpy leather vest? But there was something about the man’s face, something in his eyes, maybe underneath all those wrinkles and that wild, greying beard he really did look like someone he knew? John didn’t dwell on that though, not thinking much of it at the time or even now.

“Exactly! Same with that guy I saw living in Ed’s place, he’s exactly what I would expect Ed to look like if he ever turned into some redneck once he got older. Maybe he really is just a relative of theirs. I dunno, I think I’m going to go and get ready for my classes, hopefully Ed will show up today.”

“Alright son, I’ll see you later.” John says, waving his son off as he leaves for class. John sits and thinks about the conversation they just had, wondering if he should go see if Hank and Ed are home. Standing up he looks through the window, there is an old, beat up truck parked in driveway, John doesn’t recall them ever owning one and figures that it must belong to Ed’s visiting uncle, that’s probably who that man is.

Suddenly he sees their front door opening as the very man he’d just been thinking about steps outside, wearing a blue flannel vest with nothing underneath and smoking a fat, long cigar.. As he sees the man making his way to his car John decides that this would be a perfect opportunity to chat him up and clear up everything.

John hurries out, waving the older gentleman down before he can slide inside the car. “Hey there!” John calls out, jogging up to him. The older man just grunts a greeting. Being this close to him John can see that the man does look a lot like Hank, so maybe he was right about him being his brother. “I’m John, I live across the street from you guys.” he says while stretching out his hand. The older man wraps his meaty fingers around it and gives it a firm shake, still not saying anything. “I was wondering how Ed was doing. My son mentioned that it’s been a few days since he last showed up for any his college classes. Had he fallen ill or something?.”

“Mornin’ neighbor, Ed doin’ mighty fine the last I’ve seen ‘im” the man lets out a rambunctious chuckle, still holding John’s hand within his furry paw. If John didn’t know better he would have thought that the man was actually trying pull him closer against his massive, barrel chest. The air between them started filling with cigar smoke and John immediately noted how that must have been the same brand as the one that cowboy from earlier had been smoking. Suddenly he found himself so enamored by the smell that it didn’t even occur to him how strange it was that he still remembered it after getting just a faint whiff a couple days ago. John saw the man locking his lips around the stogie, sucking on it until its tip turned bright red and as he opened his mouth to let out all the smoke, John found himself opening his as well, except to suck in as much of it as he could. But only a few billows made it past his throat before a series of brutal, loud coughs took over his body.

Once they were over John shook his head and tried to subtly pull away, acting as if the last couple moments didn’t happen at all. “Um, right… if you see Hank could you ask him to give me a call please? And let Ed know that my son’s been feeling concerned about him if that’s okay?” John asks, finally getting his hand back from the larger older man. “Well, I reckon ya could ask ‘em yourself, Pops is right there in the backyard with his buddies.” the man says. “Oh that’s great, I’ll go do that then, thank you!” John hurries away, taking in deep breaths of fresh air to clear up his head as he gets further away from the cigar smoking bear.

John makes his way around Hank’s house and sees a group of men lounging by the pool, they are all very large and extremely hairy. Either bearded or sprouting some other form of thick facial hair. Every last one of those strange, out of place looking fellows he’d talked about with his son appears to be there, smoking an obligatory cigar and staring straight at him. In fact, the only person he doesn’t see there is the man of the house himself, Hank. John doesn’t have much of a chance to inquire about that before a huge, hirsute guy who sat nearby took note of his presence and hollered out to everyone in thick Southern accent “Dang, look what the cat dragged in boys, it’s Johnny! We’ve been just talkin’ about ya bud!”

John hears the burly men letting out hoots and hollers as he walks further in. “I’m sorry but do I know you?” John asks once he gets closer to the old man that had called out his name. He doesn’t recall ever seeing him before, could he be another relative of Hank’s? And where was Hank anyway, John would never expect his neighbor to get chummy with men like this, especially with bad habits like all that smoking and drinking that’s going on here. “Course you know me bud!” the old man says, drawing John’s attention to him. The old man removes his sunglasses and as John takes a look at his eyes he can’t help but think that he knows them from somewhere, even despite the rest of the man’s wrinkled, round face appearing completely alien to him.

The man grins and rolls the cigar to the corner of his mouth, looking very amused by John’s perplexed face, as does everyone gathered around them. “This isn’t funny, who the hell are you, where’s Hank?!” John fires off as his patience reaches its limit. The man’s grin grows even wider as he licks his lips and puts his furry hand over his crotch. “Ya sure about that bud, ya really wanna know?” he replies, prompting a number of surrounding men to snicker. John only faintly nods his head, slightly thrown off by the guy’s bizarre reaction. “All righty then, but remember… ya asked fer this yerself bud… Grab ‘im Junior!”

Before John can react to what this old man had said he’s grabbed by a pair of strong, furry arms from behind. “Let me go!” He shouts while struggling against the man’s grasp, much to the amusement of the others around him. “No can do.” the man chuckles and John immediately identifies him as the man he spoke to in the driveway. “What’s the meaning of this?! Let me go!”John yells out again. “Why Johnny? You’ve said it yerself, ya wanted tah know where yer friend Hank is, I’m only goin’ tah tell ya, I’m gonna show ya, bud” He says as he pulls the cigar out his mouth and blows a mouthful of smoke in John’s direction.

John begins to cough again, feeling the thick smoke invading his lungs. He sees the man slowly hefting himself up from his chair and moving in his direction, together with a number of others who had previously only watched from the distance. “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?!” John shouts, trying once again to free himself from the bearded man’s grasp. His struggles only seem to amuse him as the man’s burly arms hardly budge at all. He laughs, filling the air around them with plumes of cigar smoke.

John starts to feel dizzy, finding himself subjected to even more smoke as the other bear walks up closer to him. “If ya didn’t miss our last poker night bud you’d know where Hank is.” the older hirsute bear says, prompting everyone around to laugh. “See, Marty brought over a box of these gars. At first nobody wanted to smoke anythin’ called ‘Redneck Stogies’, but after Marty fired one up it wasn’t long before the boys joined in, mahself included.” the man says. This has to be some kind of a joke, why is that old man talking about that poker night out of the sudden. “It wasn’t long before we’ve all started whipping out our fat, daddy dicks and turning into the hot, redneck bears you can see before ya bud.” he says letting out another raucous belly laugh. It may be because of his dizzy state but John almost believes him at first. As he looks around at the men around him, John can see that they all look eerily familiar to his poker friends and other various neighbors. He notices the big bellied cowboy he told his son about this morning, from the start he couldn’t get rid of the impression that he looked a lot like Jim, one of Hank’s coworkers.

Same with the guy that’s been talking to him, je does look so much like his next door neighbor. Only a bit older and so much bigger… hairier… ho- no… it must be that smoke messing with his head and making it so fuzzy he almost believed what the man had said. They must be trying to drug him somehow, that’s probably what they did to the real Hank too. “Shut up! Let me go and take me to my neighbor or I’ll call the cops!” John snaps but the men don’t seem to be taking his threats seriously at all. “Ya still don’ believe me? It’s fine, I didn’t want to either when I went downstairs for a couple minutes and returned to find Steve bending Jim over the card table and plowing his ass like no tomorrow. Don’ cha worry though… after the boys held me down and fed me some of the smoke it wasn’t long before I was aching to take Steve’s place, gonna be the same fer ya Johnny. Now I know why the guys at the shop were so generous with their ‘free samples’ once Tom told them he was looking for something for our poker night, we all just can’t get enough of these gars now.”

This was insane, surely this guy was crazy. Something like that just wasn’t possible… right? John found himself having some doubts now, unsure what to believe after breathing in so much of that smoke. He was starting to feel really strange, even his cock was growing harder and forming a small tent inside his pants after hearing that whole story. Fuck… giving Jim’s fat, furry ass a good plowing sure sounded hot… wait, what? “Looks like yer startin’ tah enjoy yerself Johnny!” Hank hollers, before taking a drag off his cigar and exhaling it straight into John’s face, covering it with a thick, grey mist. John tries his best to hold his breath but there is so much smoke everywhere that it’s just impossible to avoid breathing it in. Eventually he just can’t help it and gasps, taking in a mouthful of it inside his body which makes him feel even dizzier. “Nnngh, let me go…” John moans feeling an intense wave of arousal sweeping over him, barely finding any strength left to struggle against the man’s grasp. “No can do Mr Owens, not before I find out what a sexy daddy bear yer goin’ tah make.” Oh god… in that single moment John realized who this huge, bearded man behind him really was “Mr Owens”, that’s exactly what Ed always called him whenever he saw him on the street or came over to visit his son, no matter how many times he assured him that ‘John’ was enough. But surprisingly knowing that didn’t faze him as much as he thought it might. In fact thinking of these cigars turning Ed into such a big bear of man only made his arousal grow stronger.

John’s inner conflict clearly wasn’t missed by the surrounding men as they all started rubbing their crotches. “I see yer startin’ tah enjoy it bud, how about I show ya how good it feels to suck on one of these?” drawled Hank while extending his hand with a half smoked cigar towards John. “We’re running out so I was havin’ mah boy pick up a couple more boxes fer us before ya turned up, but I reckon I might be generous and share this one with ya bud.” John tried his best to pull away when he saw Hank moving right next to him while sucking on his cigar. But despite John’s best efforts his neighbor’s bearded lips were on top of his, hungrily kissing him and invading his mouth with his tongue, blowing tobacco smoke straight down his throat. A haze of pure lust instantly clouded John’s mind as he found himself between two furry, massive bodies. His cock growing painfully hard as he felt their prominent bulges grinding against him from the front and the back. His body began growing, heating up, John felt an unfamiliar itch spreading over his cheeks as thick, white stubble covered them completely. But as soon as it began, it was over once Hank pulled away. In that same moment John found himself involuntarily moaning as if to protest that he didn’t get more, before barely regaining his composure once he realized what he was doing. “Dang it, this is even more fun than when I’ve changed mah boy. In fact, why don’t ya tell ‘im how it went down Junior, I reckon it’s gonna make his cock leak even more!”

“I didn’t think much of it when I first smelled cigar smoke creeping inside my room, I’ve tried to focus on studying, but it wasn’t long before all I could think about was whipping out my hard cock and beating off. I was already starting to change when I the heard moans coming from across the hallway and decided to follow them. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I found everyone turned into these hot, furry, redneck bears they are now right in the middle of fucking each other’s brains out. Something inside my head was screaming at me to get out of there, but my cock was rock hard and all I wanted was to join in on the fun, so I just stood there, unsure what to do, until one of these hot bears took notice of me. He told me to get my ass right in there between his legs and suck daddy off. As I watched him slowly jerking that huge, fat, daddy dick of his, looking so hot, I just couldn’t resist and simply had to do as I was told. Pa kept on showering me with the smoke from his gar and by the time he unloaded in my mouth, I was another horny, redneck daddy like the rest of the boys.” Ed says, his voice betraying a great deal of arousal at the memory.

He wasn’t the only one either as John found himself picturing every last detail of what Ed had described, growing so aroused he lost control completely. His body began changing again. the white stubble growing thicker and turning into a full beard, the hair on his head turning white and thinning out at the front, his face becoming withered as he slowly crept up in age. John’s in shape body was soon completely gone as it kept on packing on the pounds of excess fat, his stomach rounding out into a big, hefty gut with a thick dusting of white hair covering it. John couldn’t help but moan as the lust overwhelmed his mind, his cock began dripping with precum and staining the front of his jeans. John couldn’t help imagining doing something like this to his son as well. Having Will get on his knees and suck his old, daddy bear off before he handed him a cigar and watched him turn into a real man like the one he was becoming himself right now.

John let out a deep, low grunt and thrust his hips forward. He was so unimaginably horny, he looked down at his changing body, his big, round gut and the nearly fully grown, grey beard. The fit, almost hairless, clean-shaven forty year old from barely fifteen minutes ago was gone and in his place stood a nearly fully changed daddy bear. That was so fucking hot, and the thought of making others like him, especially his son was turning him on even more. “Let me fuckin’ go, need tah nut, need tah fuck yer hole!” John heard himself grunt with an accent just as thick as Hank’s, as he tried to pull away from Ed’s grasp. He seemed to be having much more trouble keeping him contained than when he first grabbed him and John could already tell that it won’t be long before he grows strong enough to overpower him and gets to bury his massive, daddy dick inside his furry ass, fuck yeah… no… this wasn’t right… this wasn’t his voice… he didn’t really want to do that… he had to remember that… he had to keep on fighting… “Ya really want us tah let ya go? I reckon we might as well let ya… but first yer gonna have tah smoke this gar down tah its cap bud!” growled Hank as he stuck the stub of the cigar he was smoking between John’s lips.

It smelled so delicious, he wanted so much to suck on it, fill his lungs with its smoke and have it change him even further, make him grow even bigger, hairier, hotter… his cock had to be massive already, it was practically ready to tear through the fabric of his pants by now. His whole body was… John could hear his clothes starting to tear at their seams and couldn’t wait for that to happen, he wanted so much to see his new daddy bear body in its full glory. No… he couldn’t give in… this cigar was barely an inch long, it was only a matter of a couple more minutes before it will be gone and he will be free, he could resist… wait it out… and then he could escape… get to his son and… and pump that cub full cum and gar smoke until he turns into a horny ol’ fuck like him! Oh god… no…

#gay #bear transformation #transformation #male transformation #fat #bear tf #age progression

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dragonmuse · 2 years ago

Note

I know it was explicitly part of the ask for the au but, you know we love an au of the au of if our girl was also there. So au of somewhere only we know if izzy met faith too (preferably she lives).

(this ask is in reference to Somewhere Only We Know, Izzy is a writer au. This divergence is called, ‘I know a place where no ones lost’. To the bulleted list!)

-Faith and Israel are spending the summer after sophomore year breaking into the town pool, working, and kicking around the city.

-Israel’s working overnight on inventory, so Faith is on her own. She decides to pretend she still has a date, so she can wiggle away from her parents and goes to the movies. It’s one she’s already seen and doesn’t really care about, but it’s cool in the theater and she can slowly eat an enormous tub of popcorn. It’s kind of nice to do that on her own. Israel usually eats more than half because he’s faster than her.

-There’s another guy alone in the theater, sitting a few rows in front of her. She watches him more than the movie, the way he’s intent, but keeps making disbelieving noises at the dialogue. There’s not a lot of other people in there with them so when he finally goes ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me’ and she laughs, he turns and finds her. Faith is bolder these days, so she gives him a little wave. He stares at her, then gets up and walks to her aisle. Shit.

-”This movie is dumb as hell,” he says. “You want to try something else?”

“Oh,” she stares up at him. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something else starting in the next theater over.”

"Yeah okay.” She's got a knife these days, slipped in her pocket by Israel without a word. She can move theaters with this fluffy haired dude.

-They sneak into the next theater. The guy has obviously done it before and Faith definitely has. Once she and Israel ran an experiment and spent a full sixteen hours in the theater, bouncing from screening to screening. They sit in the back and he says, belatedly,

“Uh, my name is Lucius and that was probably weird, sorry.”

“Faith, and it’s cool,” she offers him the bucket. Her stomach is starting to hurt, actually. “Want some?”

The movie is about lottery tickets and divorce and romance. Faith tunes it out almost immediately.

“Do you go to Roosvelt?” She asks instead.

“I do now,” he grimaces. “We just moved here. I’ll be a sophomore.”

“Israel, that’s my boyfriend,” laying down protective cover, she’s not an idiot, “and me will be juniors. It’s fine.”

“Is it really?”

She sighs, “No. It’s hell.”

“Yay,” Lucius eats a piece of popcorn. “If you’ve got a boyfriend, what are you doing here on your own?”

“He’s got to do inventory at the grocery store.”

“Which one?”

“Kline’s.”

“...is your boyfriend a little angry dude with black hair by any chance?”

She laughs, “Yeah, that’s my Israel.”

“He helped me out the other day,” Lucius eyes her speculatively.

“He did? How?”

“His manager almost caught me shoplifting.”

That made sense. Israel wasn’t exactly a good samaritan, but he supported five-finger discounts in a general sense.

“What were you taking?”

“Candy. Nothing interesting. I’m working my way up to bigger and better things.”

“You need bigger pockets then and something tied around your waist.”

“Huh, okay, you have my attention.”

-The conversation does move away from theft eventually. They talk through the movie and Faith starts to relax. There’s nothing threatening about Lucius, for all he’s bigger and broader than Israel. He has an easy manner and looks like he knows more about taking a punch than giving one.

She figures that’s that though, when they part ways outside the theater.

-”There’s this kid,” Israel tells her a few days later. “He says he met you at the movies.”

“Yeah, Lucius,” she supplies. “He said you helped him not get picked up by your boss.”

“Guess I did,” he takes her hand, easy as breathing, laces their fingers together. “He came up to me when I was getting lunch at Gino’s yesterday. Asked about my face.”

Faith had been trying hard not to look at his face, actually. The bruising was terrible and it made her stomach twist up. She’d held a cold can of beer to it for a full twenty minutes when he’d shown up for their date like that the night before.

“I hope you weren’t a dick about it,” she says lightly.

“I was,” he shrugs. “Told him to fuck off. And he just hung around anyway. I went over to his place.”

“Really?” she squeezes his hand. “What was that like?”

“S’alright. Little two bedroom in that grayish building on the corner with the broken lamp post.”

“Oh yeah, I know the spot.”

“He’s an artist, I think. Or he draws a lot anyway.”

“Huh.”

-They have been a tribe of two for months now. A closed circuit. Israel still runs with Brandon’s crew, Faith still vaguely subscribes to Beth’s circle, but anything important is theirs. Just a microcosm. And they had both been content with that.

But Lucius just turns up over and over. He gets books in Israel’s hands, something Faith never thought to attempt. He shares his pencils and paper with Faith, who never thought much about art, but winds up liking sketching a little. She draws buildings mostly. Imaginary houses for an imaginary future.

-When school restarts, Faith finds Lucius on the first day.

“Give me your schedule,” she demands and he hands it over without question. She scans the list and then hands it back. “You should tell the counselor that you want to switch lunch and art. Then we can both be in both together. You can sit with me.”

“Oh thank fuck,” he exhales and runs off to do just that.

Beth and the other girls resist his presence for all of twenty minutes and then they cave as Lucius compliments their outfits, asks about their boyfriends and cracks a joke that makes them all giggle. Faith shouldn’t be proud of him, she didn’t do anything, but she is anyway.

She doesn’t really like art class, but Lucius does, so she sits next to him and bounces along on his energy and lets him ‘fix’ her pieces as much as he likes.

-She and Israel still have math together. He does his homework these days, either with Lucius or with her and his grades are...good. Sometimes better than hers.

“We should do something after school,” she decides.

“We do,” Israel reminds her, taking her backpack as she struggles with it and just adds its weight to his own without any sign of trouble. Lifting boxes all summer has added to his frame.

“No like...an extracurricular,” she floats.

“Why?” He stares at her like she’s grown an extra limb.

“Because, Israel. We’re getting the fuck out of here and that means we gotta look like we give a shit.”

“You’re going to college,” he reminds her. “Not me.”

Lucius approaches them, glancing between them as if sensing the tension.

“Luc, tell him he’s going to college,” she demands.

“Uh, yeah, of course he is?” Lucius’ eyebrows go up. “Was not going an option?”

“You’re both out of your minds,” Israel declares.

But when Faith signs them up for the Math League, he shows up with a resigned expression and his usual shitty attitude. Doesn't matter, between the two of them they decimate the other practice team. Mr. Finkle is over the moon that they’ve both finally shown an interest.

“We might actually win something for once,” he declares and all the preppy, successful kids with their ironed clothes and ironed hair turn as one to glare at them. Izzy grins, slow and wide. Malice drips off it and she tries to match it.

“Okay,” he decides, turning to her as if no one else was there, “let’s fucking do this.”

-Lucius comes to their competitions, cheers like it’s a sport. It’s embarrassing and weird and neither of them try to stop him even once, even a little. No one’s ever showed for them before.

Israel’s gang falls away and every day he doesn’t mention Brandon, Faith breathes a little easier.

After school, they crowd into Lucius’ room now. His mom sometimes gives Faith speculative looks. Hopeful looks. But she’s always on the floor next to Israel, usually under the protective circle of one arm and Lucius is at his desk.

“Is this what other people do?” Faith asks Israel when Lucius head to the kitchen one golden afternoon. “Just..hang out? Do homework?”

“How the fuck would I know?” He kisses her temple, cutting the acid of his words with affection. “S’not bad though.”

“It isn’t,” she agrees.

-She watches, because she’s good at that. Watches Israel read a pile of books, listens when he shares pieces of them with her. When one sounds really good, sometimes she’ll even read it herself though she never has his passion for it. Watches how Lucius reaches for Israel and how Israel lets him in a way he only ever let her before. Lucius touches Israel for emphasis to a point, the quick birdlike landing of fingers on wrist, or to grab his attention, a grasp on his bicep, or once, just once, he caught one of Israel’s epic cowlicks and smoothed it down with a soft smile.

-Faith watches, but she’s not sure what it means. It doesn’t stir anger or jealousy in her. It makes her feel...warm. Correct. Israel doesn’t pull away from her to receive the attention. He doesn’t kiss her less.

-Midway through their junior year, with money scrapped together from who knew where (Lucius learns from Faith not to ask, she has to take him aside and hiss it at him after one near awful conversation when he provides them dinner. “But-” “If he wanted us to know, he’d say. So we don’t know. Got it?” “Got it.” ), Israel buys a car. It’s a ridiculous thing to own, but there’s street parking on his block. It’s old, but a beautiful glossy black and it’s engine always runs smooth.

-He’s changing the oil one afternoon or tinkering with the engine, Faith isn’t sure. But she and Lucius are sitting on the stoop of Israel’s building, watching. Israel sheds his shirt, just a white thin undershirt beneath. Faith has seen it all a million times. He’s attractive, her man, muscle-bound and square-jawed. She loved all of that. But she hadn’t really thought about loving it beyond its utility, beyond how his warmth felt pressed against her.

“Fuck me,” Lucius mutters under his breath, and casts his eyes down to his coffee.

Faith realizes a few things in rapid succession. She clutches her soda and thinks about it all.

“He’d freak out, if you said anything,” she whispered.

“Said what?” Lucuis turns to her, bemused.

“He doesn’t know what he doesn’t know, you know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says mildly. “You good?”

“I’m good,” she decides. She’s not giving him up and she’s not going to make Lucius uncomfortable, so she’ll wait this out. See how it goes.

-They spend the next summer in the car when they’re not working (Faith and Israel) or taking art classes (Lucius). The three of them are officially inseparable by then. Sometimes there are still quiet date nights, just the two of them, but they don’t fight for those. It’s nicer when Lucius is there. He leads them on strange adventures, to museums and plays. Faith likes the art more than the productions. When she gets tired of such things, Lucius seems challenged, finds her interesting old houses to poke through.

For her birthday, he and Israel somehow make Hole concert tickets appear and Faith practically sobs through it. She’s not one of the people that thinks Courtney had anything to do with Kurt’s death, she just feels her pain vividly and sobs for her even as she lets the music vibrate through her.

-Israel doesn’t fight them about applying to college that fall. He only applies where Faith applies, so she makes sure to include places he might actually like. She and Lucius figure that out together one night, making a careful list as they paw through old guides.

“You’ll have to like them too,” she instructs.

“Who says I’m following you?” he says, but there’s a smile lurking on his lips and she knows that he will.

“I say,” she tries.

When she exerts herself like that, Israel always falls in line, so she doesn’t do it too much. Lucius is more stubborn, but sometimes, she thinks, more susceptible actually. Because she’s older, maybe. Because sometimes, when Israel isn’t around, she lets him in close and he curls up into her like he can make himself small enough to fit beside her and she pets his hair and says sweet things to him. She does that for Israel too, but it's an equal exchange. Sometimes Lucius just needs her to carry his weight. Just for a minute. She's strong enough for that.

“Well if you say,” he laughs, but makes a copy of the list and keeps it for himself.

-They fucking murder at Math League that year and it goes on their applications.

-They save the fat envelopes (Israel’s go to Lucius’ place, Faith gets the family mail in the afternoon and steals her own away) to open with Lucius. It only feels right.

There are matching scholarships only an hour away. Far enough to escape, close enough to come back sometimes. Israel keeps looking at them like they might disappear, but Faith believes in their escape so hard by now that it’s practically a personal religion. They’re going to get out of here. They’re going to succeed.

-Lucius gets down on the floor and pulls Israel into a hard hug. Faith watches. She pays attention to the way Israel lets himself be small in Lucius arms. Protected instead of protecting. She takes her own hug happily, pressing a single kiss to Lucius' neck. When he pulls away surprised, she only shrugs. Another day. Another time.

-Summer is in the air when it happened, they are nearly free from high school forever.

“I’ve got a headache,” she lets them know as she climbs into the passenger seat. Lucius is laying out in the back, a book over his face to block out the streetlight. “Can we stop at the pharmacy?”

She’s not sure of what happens over the next two hours. The memories never come back. Lucius tells her, voice shaking as he holds her hand tightly that he stayed with her while Israel went to go put the fear of God (if God was a furious eighteen year old) into her parents. He calls the hospital in frantic gasps and her diagnosis rattles through the line.

She dies at least once, resuscitated while Lucius stands feet away, so quiet and still they don’t realize he’s there to shoo him away. She knows that for years after he has nightmares about that sterile corner.

He held a silent vigil for them all and his reward is that she comes to, clings to him and sobs in bewilderment. Israel arrives not long after and they both pile onto the bed, trying so hard not to hurt her even as they pet her hair and try to embrace her around wires and lines.

-”Mom says you can stay at our place while you recover,” Lucius tells her. She barely believes that, but she desperately doesn’t want to go home.

When they arrive, Faith leaning weakly against Israel, the couch is made up with blankets and a pillow. Mrs. Spriggs puts a hand to Faith’s forehead and it’s so unexpected and tender that she almost starts crying all over again.

-She recovers on the couch, spends the last few weeks in the city there. Israel puts more hours into work, trusting Lucius to get her to appointments and take notes. There’s medication and check ups and she’s dizzy with it, but so profoundly grateful. There’s not much she can do in return, so she borrows Lucius' things and the day before they leave, she gifts Lucius with a portrait of Israel, in profile, not perfect or beautiful, but something he can keep. A promise maybe. She hope it says the things she doesn’t know how to say yet.

“I love it,” he tells her and hugs her and she whispers, quiet, ever so quiet,

“We love you,” to him and he hugs her tighter which hurts a little, but she doesn’t care just then.

-The day comes when she gets into Israel’s car and he at long last, drives them away. It hurts a little to leave Lucius behind, but the freedom makes her almost too dizzy to care.

-The dorms aren’t so bad. She likes her roommate enough, a quiet girl who goes by Sam and wants to be a kindergarten teacher. They eat dinner together sometimes. Mostly though, she’s in Israel’s room. His roommate pledges a frat and disappears, so they spend a lot of nights together, the two of them small enough to cram into the tiny beds without too much discomfort.

-And on the weekends, they go into the city and steal Lucius away. It’s a lot of gas money they don’t have, but neither of them ever brings that up. They need him like they need each other and he doesn’t get left behind.

-The day comes at last when he arrives on campus himself. He’s grown even taller and into himself more. People like Lucius in a way they don’t like Israel and are indifferent to Faith. He creates a life and draws them into it. Faith takes art classes with him again and draws her houses until a professor guides her into an architecture class where she falls in love.

Israel goes along to English classes and comes back high on arguments, still bickering with Lucius, who gives him a fight with a gleam in his eyes.

-Determination and grit gets Israel graduated first, the course load never seeming to make him buckle under. He gets a job at a bank, dull as dirt, but the money comes in and he rents an apartment with two bedrooms all on his own. It’s an awful crumbling place and Faith loves it immediately. Lucius stands in the second bedroom, leaning heavily on the door.

“You get lonely, you can always sleep with us,” Israel snorts. And Lucius turns on him, eyes like thunder and Israel actually takes a step back.

“You don’t fucking get to joke about that,” he snaps and walks away.

“What?” Israel frowns.

“Wow. Spectacular fail there,” Faith tells him and kisses his cheek.

“But-” Israel starts, stops. Stares into the empty bedroom as if the warped flooring might give him an answer.

“Make me a nice enough nest in there and maybe we can figure something out,” she offers. Because Faith has been watching and she’s not a fool. But she’s also too hungry for what they feed her to give up. She could be the bigger person. Walk away and leave them to it. But Israel was hers first and Lucius sometimes needs her. She loves that need.

“Faith,” he protests weakly.

“It’s okay,” she smiles at him. “We can still get married.”

-Israel goes after Lucius. They come back, both a little addled looking. They turn to her, waiting.

-”Can I watch?” She settles on.

-That’s a weird conversation, but it ends with her sitting cross-legged on the end of the mattress, watching as they learn how to make each other fall apart. When they’re done, she creeps back up and settles against Israel with a contented sigh. He looks down at her, blissed out and bemused.

Lucius, clearly very pleased with himself, sits up, leaning against the cracked wall, hair impossibly mussed.

“You’re okay with this?” Israel checked.

“Yeah,” she grins. “I think it’s pretty great, actually. You can go on without me whenever.”

“You still want to get married?” He asks roughly.

“I told you I would,” she presses a kiss to his ribs. “That okay, Luc?”

“Yeah, sure do whatever,” he says lazily. “As long as we all stick together.”

-They get married on a Tuesday because Faith likes Tuesdays. There’s no rings, just Lucius and Sam as witnesses. They go to a nice lunch after, a little fancier than usual. Lucius gives them a drawing as a present, the two of them running through the rain weeks ago, soaking and laughing with it.

They frame it, a cheap dollar store number and add Faith’s old portrait of Israel next to it.

-As ever a man of his word, Israel makes both bedrooms pleasant places, decent beds, piled with blankets and pillows, a nest wherever she lands. The second bedroom sees a lot of business. It’s nominally Lucius’, full of his things, but Faith sleeps there just as often. Sometimes with Lucius even, when Israel is working late. He’s a pleasant sleeping companion, generous with his warmth and soft where Israel was hard.

They kiss sometimes. Affectionate and understanding that it’s no more than that. When Israel catches it, he clearly melts into it though he’d deny it.

Lucius has other men, but that’s fine. Those nights Faith gets her husband to herself and they start to figure out how to make each other feel good too. Israel has ideas from his nights with Lucius and they negotiate more things. Faith’s body isn’t strong, but her voice and will are and that seems to be enough.

-In her senior year, Faith meets a woman, gorgeous and soft-spoken. She comes home to Lucius and confesses, achingly and he says,

“Darling, what’s what one more? Izzy won’t mind.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so.”

He’s right as he usually is. Israel just kisses her on the forehead like a blessing and she goes back into the world, ready for new things. The woman cares, unfortunately, but Faith figures it’s a good enough litmus test for whoever comes next.

-She gets an internship upon graduation. It’s just down the street from the bank, so Israel drives her every morning. All day she runs errands for people that make actual money, but she also gets to watch buildings being born and it just redoubles her conviction. They hire her when the internship ends and they spend many mornings commuting together.

-Lucius stumbles into a job at a gallery. He sits at the front desk, answers questions and is generally bored. He doesn’t complain much, but it’s unpleasant to see him washed out and aimless.

And then one night, very oddly, Israel says,

“I wrote something.”

“Like a report?” Lucius picks over dinner. Faith made it, so it’s probably burnt. She hasn’t had the guts to try it yet. Israel, bless him, has already cleared his plate without comment. He’ll probably make it next week and better on his night.

“Not a report.”

He yields up the pages. It’s not long. A story about a girl with flyaway orange hair and a boy with a fist full of magic colored pencils. They draw a world to escape into and run away.

“Oh, Israel,” Faith reaches for him, takes his hand. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s special, Iz,” Lucius decrees. “Hold on.”

He gets out his sketchbook and he starts to draw. Not the hyper realistic sketches that he’s always aimed for, but not fully cartoon either. The kids look real, their scenery a colorful riot. They both bend their heads over the pages and they plan.

Faith watches a world being born.

- Escape to Glass City: The First Adventure of Pup and the Duchess is aimed at middle readers. Faith has never met so many twelve year olds in her life, even when she was twelve. She goes with them to signings when she can, endlessly charmed by the way they learn to hold court to awkward adolescents.

-They contract for six books. Pup and the Duchess adventure out into the world. By book six, at Lucius and Faith’s insistence, they pick up a companion. Night of the Goblin Prince sells better than the first five combined, thanks to getting prominently featured on banned book lists everywhere. The scene towards the end is chaste, just Pup and the Goblin Prince holding hands, but Lucius’ art leaves little to interpretation as the Duchess in the next panel puts her arms around both their waists and says,

“Love shared is love multiplied. But we can’t linger here. Your father is coming...”

-They get another four books after that. Israel leaves the bank at long last, so Faith commutes alone, but she comes home to such a happy home, she can’t resent it.

-With the money, Lucius and Israel make a commission. At long last, Faith has the funds and the experience to make those first childhood dreams come true. She creates for them a house. It’s not over large, but they each have their own space. It’s Victorian-inspired, crenellations and little touches galore. For Lucius, she makes a bedroom in a tower, tall rounded windows, a perch for him to survey the back garden and the river beyond. The main bedroom is at the back of the house, more tall windows, but carefully recessed into the wall, less exposed and en suite with no windows at all, not even a skylight, just a restive place to hide from the world. For Israel, an office on the far right corner, bookshelves jammed back with all of their gathered materials, framed awards hung between. It’s where he and Lucius work the most often together, one long desk under the window.

For herself, Faith makes a living room on the first floor, filled with comfortable furniture, fluffy rugs and lots of art on the walls to absorb sound. It’s her nest, her place and if her men pile onto the couch with her, so much the better.

-She meets Lydia at a work mixer. It’s not love right aways, but it’s the first blooming idea that it could be. Their schedules are uneven, mismatched, but Faith prefers to be at home anyway. One or two nights a week at Lydia’s are more than enough.

- Lucius finds the bar on a rambling weekend out. He brings home the card with a casual comment and a few weeks later, they all go together. It’s a fabulous place, the show makes Faith laugh uncontrollably and she makes sure to find the host and tell her.

“Thank you,” Leda beams. “We work hard to put on a good show. Right darling?”

“Mmhm,” the Kraken winds a limb around Leda’s shoulder, her eyes dragging over Faith in mild interest.

“Saw a sign for a junior drag event. Do you ever do book signings?” She asks, ever an unofficial agent.

-”What for?” Leda asks, half distracted by her partner already.

“My husband and my partner write a series for middle readers. The Adventures of Pup and the Duchess.”

Leda’s eyes go wide and the Kraken’s eyebrows fly upwards.

“Those are Charlie’s favorites, aren’t they?”

“Alma liked them too,” Leda agreed. “Are they here?”

Lucius and Israel get quite the introduction which Lucius, as always, takes as his due and Israel, as always, shrinks away from a little.

-They do the signing. It’s a little too far to travel very regularly, but they still find themselves there alone, in pairs or altogether once a month or so. Faith helps them renovate the basement when it floods, the plans escaping the basement and into the backrooms. Lucius finds his way into bed with most of the standing cast and eventually settles on Pete, spending long weekends away.

Israel...Israel lingers around Eddy, darting in and out like koi fish in a pond. Testing the water temperature. In the end, he stays away, circles back home, but a new character finds their way into the books, a mysterious sea creature, who helps and hinders them in turn.

-Let’s leave them there, all in their forties, happy in their home and their home away from home. Faith in her castle, watching over her men and having her lover. A life built on stories and art. The Duchess in her palace.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #au of the au #i know a place where no ones lost #faith callahan #izzy hands #lucius black

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toxicruins101 · 3 years ago

Text

I promise too never leave you, never.

Quackity x God! Male! Reader

[Fluff + some Angst]

Tw: Swearing and Mentions of Blood]

Work, that's the only thing Quackity had in his mind.

Building a nation isn't easy, especially when you just lost you're two fiances.

Quackity was practically lost he didn't know what too do or how too do it.

"Oh my god's...." he whispered quietly, on his desk were a bunch of blue prints, contracts, taxes.

Quackity had the money too pay all of this, so that wasn't what worried him at all.

He had just had the shitiest day ever, he was ready too just get up and jump off a cliff, the paper work didn't help much either.

.....

....

...

"12:00"

Quackity looked up from his work station too look at the clock

"Shit, 12:00 already?" said the hybrid staring at the clock quickly he stood up, grabbed his beanie plus keys and went out the door, running outside actually.

Quackity ran into certain place far into the woods there he found a book on the floor with a feather and ink beside it.

Quackity stopped his running and took a second too calm his breathing, once he calmed down.

He sat down infront of the book the cover now being way too familiar too him now.

'The Book Of Summoning'

Sat on the cover of the book.

The tittle couldn't be more acurrate, from the first too last page were a bunch of summoning spells

You could summon from feathers and dirt too armour and gold

There was even a section of the book where you could summon mobs

Again, you could summon from rabbits and pigs too dragons and god's.

Quackity had found the book by total accident, he was wondering around the forest, after his fight with technoblade, blood was dripping from his face, eye closed shut red painted the path in wich he was walking on.

Quackity tripped and landed face first into the ground.

He got back up and screamed in pain as his bruise made contact with it, the grass where he fell now covered in red from the blood

He looked at ground once more and found a book.

"The Book Of Summoning?, w-what? Ugh whatever let's see if I can find a healing potion, assuming this book even works.." Said Quackity looking for anything too help him in his 'situation' of his.

Quackity looked and looked he was sure he had missed the page for the potion long ago.

Because now in-front of him was the page that would let him summon a god.

"Y/n L/n, God of Life and Healing, abilities:

Reviving

Growth

Breeding

Peace

Blosoming

Good at healing:

Scars

Wounds

Bruises

Any form of blade injury (depending on the material the blade was made of:

Wood [Easy

Iron [Easy

Gold [Mediocre

Diamond [Mediocre

Netherite [Hard)

Thank the gods that technoblade had a Iron pickaxe then.

Yet Quackity knew he could just look for the healing potion, yet, something was practically yelling his name too summon the god.

'This better fucking work...' thought Quackity too himself

"By the power that I have in me, rise Y/n the God, Healer and Life giver, come too me and let me joy in you're presence and glory, Oh mighty Y/n come upon this mortal realm and bless us simple humans".

.....

....

...

"Wow, you are...beatiful human"

Quackity looked up and saw the one and only

Y/n L/n the God Of Life and Healing

Quackity remembered that day as if it was only yesterday quickly he said the spell and opened too see those (e/c) eyes, he had grown oh so fond of.

"Hello Darling"

Said the god approaching Quackity and pulling him onto his feet, the height difference was enormous, even though Y/n had made himself smaller so he woudn't tower over quackity he was still very tall.

"Hey y/n, how did you're day go?"

Said Quackity quickly starting a conversation

"It was good dear, healed some people and revived some animals, the usual, what about you, dear?"

Said the god quickly finishing his sentence and pulling all his atenttion too his lover.

"I-it was fine I guess."

Said Quackity, that was a lie, he had a shit day.

"Darling, I'm a god, I can tell if you've had a bad day."

Said the god seeing through Quackity's lie as if it was glass.

"Really, I'm fine-""Do not lie too me Quackity"

Said Quackity only too be cut off by The god beside him.

"Now tell me darling, if you want too of course, what happened?"

Quackity just stayed quiet till tears blured his vision and sobs started leaving his mouth.

Yet the god remained silent and just embraced the shorter male into a hug.

"I-It was karl and Sapnap, they called of the marriage off though I knew it was gonna happen,i-it hurts, t-then I had a run in with purpled, he practically killed my best-friend, a-and too top it all off I have had the worst shoulder pain along with a headache"

Said Quackity spilling the whole truth about what happened during his day.

Quackity was a crying mess his true emotions now showing themselves.

Quackity cried and cried till he had no tears left, eyes puffy and red, voice raspy from the crying, as his sobs quieted down.

When he calmed down he was met with an all too familiar warmth, y/n's healing powers, when y/n healed, his powers gave this relaxing, comfy feeling of warmth.

Quackity leaned into y/n his watmth, relaxing quackity a bit.

Y/n then looked down at Quackity

"I may not be super expirienced with human emotions but I will promise you this"

"I promise too never leave you, never."

Y/n ended his promise and kissed Quackity...

Quackity kissed back.

#reader insert #writing #fanfic #x male reader #c!quackity x reader #he/him #angst prompt #x reader #quackity x male reader

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everafterfics · 3 years ago

Text

Your World or Mine [Part 4] [Viktor x Reader]

I finally finished another update! Theres only one more part left so stay tuned.

Synopsis: You get accidentally teleported to Piltover from Earth. The Hextech scientists try their best to get you back home.

Warnings: None

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

You awoke the next morning in a sour mood. Jayce was unfortunately right that there was much to consider about staying in Piltover. You didn’t know about the city’s history, what the financial system was, how you would even live here on your own. Right now you were living off the generosity of Jayce and Viktor, but if you decided to stay you couldn’t in good conscious continue to do that.

You picked yourself up and got dressed for the day. If you wanted to make a more informed decision you’d have to do some research of your own. So when you went to the lab you approached Sky.

“Morning Sky.”

“Good morning y/n.” She replied with a smile.

“This place a has a library right?” You asked.

“Mhmm. Would you like me to show it to you?”

“If you have time I’d love that.” You smiled in reply.

“Of course. If you give me a few minutes I’ll be able to take you.”

“Thank you so much Sky.” You said as she made her way over to Jayce, presumably to tell him where she was headed.

“Miss Y/N, would you come here for a moment?” Viktor said from across the room, catching you off guard. You had assumed that he would still be afraid to speak to you after yesterday. Perhaps Jayce had spoken with him last night and cleared the air. Whatever happened you were glad that things weren’t going to be awkward between the two of you.

“You’re going to the library?” He asked once you had reached his desk.

“Yeah. I want to do some research on Piltover, to learn more about the city while I’m here.” You explained.

“Ah I see. I did not take you for an academic.” He admitted.

You didn’t take offense at his comment. “I do enjoy learning, just not for the sake of grades. I did go to college you know.”

“Right, you mentioned that briefly.” Viktor got up and walked to a bag nearby. He shuffled through it for a moment before pulling out a card. When he returned to your side he held it out to you. “Here, take my library card. That way if you don’t finish your research you can take the books back to your room with you.”

You took the small piece of plastic from his hand. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to keep it safe.”

Viktor smiled in response and sat back down at his desk to resume his work.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go?” Sky asked X she approached you.

“Yeah.” You responded.

Sky led you from the lab and to the overwhelmingly large library that the academy housed. The vaulted ceiling allowed for towering bookcases to hold hundreds of books. You could even see a secondary floor attached via a balcony along the back end of the room. You gulped at the sight of everything. You had no idea just how enormous the place would be.

“Where were you looking to start?” Sky broke you from your trance like stare.

“Oh! I was looking for Piltover history.”

“I believe that’s this way.” Sky began to lead you to the back of the library, but spared no time making conversation with you. She gave you a soft smile and asked, “You took what Jayce said last night to heart huh?”

“Yeah. He did make me realize that I don’t know all that much about this world. That’s why I want to learn more. So when the time does come, and I have a choice to stay or not, I can make an informed decision.”

“That’s a smart move.” Sky admitted. She rounded the corner down an aisle of books and began to scan the titles. She pulled one out. It was thick and worn, many students must have used it before you. “This is the textbook that the academies history classes use. It should be of a lot of help. This whole row has histories from all over Runeterra as well so there should be plenty to read.”

You took the heavy book from Sky and looked around for a moment. Once you saw a table at the end of the aisle you knew where you’d be spending the rest of the morning. “Thank you for your help. I’m probably going to spend the rest of the morning here. Or check out a couple of books to bring back to my room. Either way I don’t think I’ll be going back to the lab very soon, so give the boys my regards.”

“You’re going to check them out? Would you like to borrow my library card?.” Sky cocked her head curiously.

“Oh Viktor is letting me borrow his, thanks though.” You noticed Sky’s smile waver for a moment but decided not to mention it.

“Oh. Well good luck with your studies. I hope everything goes well.” Sky departed soon after saying her farewell. You could tell something was bothering her and you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. Was she jealous of the attention you were getting from Viktor?

Setting that thought aside for now, you sat down at the table at the end of the aisle and opened the large book to its first page. You didn’t plan to read the whole thing, just skim the pages and actually read what seemed like major historical points. The morning sun quickly moved overhead, and when your stomach insisted it was time for lunch you had barely made it even a quarter way through the large book.

You closed the textbook with a sigh and stretched out your back. ‘Maybe it’s time to check this out and do the rest of my research in my room after lunch.’ You thought to yourself. As if agreeing with your own mind, you nodded. Though there were a couple more books you wanted to find before leaving the library.

You looked carefully up the history aisle for anything that may involve the Undercity. You did assume the large textbook would have something about it, but having its own text would be more comprehensive. Unfortunately there was only a small, flimsy book on the Undercity. You debated if it would even have any worthwhile information in it. Ultimately you decided to grab it anyway.

The next book you wanted to find was for your own personal project. You had an idea for Viktors portrait, but it required additional information that you didn’t have. “Excuse me?” You approached a librarian to ask where to go.

“Yes dear?” Her older voice was sweet to your ears, much akin to how your grandmother might have spoken to you.

“Could you point me in the direction of books on flower languages?”

“Flower languages? I haven’t heard of anybody interested in that in quite some time.” She gave a soft chuckle alongside a warm smile, “Do you have someone special that you need it for?”

“It’s for a project actually, well more of a thank you gift I suppose. I’d like to add flowers to a portrait I’m drawing but I want to make sure they mean something.” You admit to her.

She nods in understanding. “Follow me this way dear. I’ll show you where to look.”

There were a surprising amount of books on the subject. Before picking any out you quickly thank the elder librarian. She gave you a quick smile in return before heading back to her own daily tasks.

You skimmed through a couple of books until you found some flowers that you wanted to use. Having finally collected all of the books you wanted to borrow, you headed towards the front of the library to check them out.

You placed the books down with a loud thunk! The librarian at the main desk looked up at you with an aggravated gaze. She was much younger than the elder woman from earlier and her demeanor was much colder. She placed aside the book she was reading and sighed. “Checking the books back in or checking them out?”

“C-checking them out…ma’am.” You didn’t know why you added the ma’am onto the end, but the narrowing of the librarians eyes made it clear that it was the wrong decision.

She took the book from the top of the pile and opened it. She then removed a small card from the front pocket of the book. Her cold eyes met yours once again, “Library card?”

“Oh! Right.” You pulled out Viktors card and handed it to her. She scanned it for a moment.

Her eyes flitted between you and the card. “You’re Viktor?” She asked with a judgmental bitterness to her voice.

“He’s letting me borrow his card while I’m visiting.” You never realized that checking books out could be this stressful. The librarian looked at you for a moment before humming in disapproval. Nevertheless, she wrote Viktors name down on the card of the book before placing it aside to file later. She then stamped a return date onto the pocket of the book. She did the same with each of your other books before pushing them back towards you.

“Have them back by the date on the pocket. Have a nice day.” Her sentiment did not have the same tone behind it that you’d have expected. Still, you smiled at her and retrieved your pile of books before turning to leave.

You stopped briefly at your room to drop off the books before heading to the lab to see if anybody wanted to join you for lunch. When you entered, everyone was hard at work as expected. Jayce was alone at his desk and Sky was hovering over Viktors shoulder. You suddenly recalled how Sky seemed bothered earlier. You took a moment to really observe her… how closely she leaned when Viktor asked for her assistance… the warm smile she wore when he thanked her… Yup, she was definitely crushing on him. And judging by the slight twinge in your stomach you may have been a bit jealous of her.

“Y/N! How’s the research going?” Jayce asked when he noticed your presence. His voice immediately drawing your attention away from the feeling in your gut.

“Its getting there. I thought it might be time for a lunch break though.” You said as you stepped closer to him.

He stretched out his back and gave a long sigh of relief. “Yeah, it is about that time isn’t it?” Jayce stood and walked over to Viktor, you followed like a lost puppy. He placed a hand on his partners shoulder, the sudden contact causing him to flinch in surprise. “Hey Viktor, wanna break for lunch?”

Viktor opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when he saw you beside Jayce. He released a small breath and spoke, “Perhaps some food would do me good.”

Jayce patted his partner on the back. “Alright! Sky you want to come too?”

“Sure.” She nodded. She glanced towards you and you averted your eyes from her.

On your way to the academies cafeteria Viktor walked beside you, while Sky strolled with Jayce ahead of you. You noticed her look over her shoulder a couple of times while you walked.

“Oh! Here’s your library card back.” You pulled out the small plastic card and handed it to Viktor.

“Ah right. Thank you. You found everything you needed then?” He replied.

“Mostly. I was hoping for a bit more information on the Undercity, but there really wasn’t much there.”

Viktor pursed his lips for a moment. “No there wouldn’t be much.” He sighed. “Piltover does not exactly like to indulge in anything about the Undercity. If you’re curious though I could answer questions for you.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at his offer. “I mean, I’ll finish the books I have first to see what questions I might have.”

“Of course.” He smiled at you.

The four of you arrived at the Academy dining hall and sat down at a table with the food you’d picked out.

“It’s good to have you leave the lab for once.” Jayce said with a joking tone towards his partner.

“Yes, well a bit of nutrients will be good for my brain. Although you need it more than I do.” Viktor shot back without a second thought. You snorted with laughter, it was short and quick but Viktor still cracked a smile at the corner of his lips.

“Oh ha ha.” Jayce replied sarcastically. “I’m just as smart as you Viktor. Or did you forget that we are partners and not rivals?”

“What is a little rivalry if not a proper motivator for innovation?” Viktor smirked at his partner, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty.” You quoted a movie from your world but forgot that they wouldn’t get the reference, as evidenced by the blush on both Viktor and Jayces faces and the dumbstruck look they were giving you. You glanced at Sky to see her shocked face as well and a wave of embarrassment hit you. “Sorry! That was a quote from a movie! It was meant to be like a joke in a way… anyway…” Jayce and Viktor gave each other a confused look while you took a bite of the sandwich in front of you.

Jayce cleared his throat. “So, how was the library?”

“You asked me that already.” You lightly laughed. “I did get the books I needed for my research on Piltover though. But there was this one librarian at the checkout counter that was…”

“Rude?” Viktor finished your thought.

“Yeah. Is she always like that?”

“Eh, yes most of the time she is. I would not take it personally. I believe she just hates being torn away from whatever she is reading.”

“You can relate I’m sure.” Jayce muttered. Viktor promptly shoved his elbow into Jayces side.

The rest of lunch went on like that. Viktor and Jayce making small remarks to rile each other up, all in good fun of course, and you and Sky watching on and occasionally chiming in. Eventually you parted ways until dinner, ready to get back to your research.

Life went on like that for a few weeks. Researching Piltover, working on the portrait for Viktor, breaking for meals. Your life on Runeterra was becoming routine, but unlike your routine on Earth, you didn’t mind. Your research was fruitful and you felt like you were close to making a decision on whether or not to stay and what that would mean for your future. Not long after you felt comfortable in your choice, the time came where your portrait for Viktor was completed. If only your nerves didn’t keep you from actually presenting it to him.

You paced your room desperately attempting to work up the courage to go to the lab and present your gift. Surely at this hour Viktor would be alone. It would be the perfect time…

You slammed your hands onto your desk on either side of the portrait. Air filled your lungs as you took a very deep breath. “Alright!” You psyched yourself up and picked up the picture. It was no larger than your sketchbook, but was not lacking in fine details. Each flower was intricately drawn and shaded around the carefully observed illustration of Viktor. His visage was hopeful, an expression you wished he would have more often. Littered through the flowers were small cogs and nuts, a small touch that you thought was a perfect way to represent his engineering. For being so out of practice with your artwork you couldn’t help but feel proud of what you’d drawn. You held the portrait close to your chest and closed your eyes for a moment. “I hope he likes it” You whispered a small prayer to yourself.

The closer you got to the lab, the louder your heart beat in your chest. Was this how Viktor felt before he gave you that cat plush? You can’t imagine someone like him would ever feel so scared to give a simple gift. You reached the doors to the lab. How long did you stand there… waiting… hoping something would force you inside? You could hear Viktor inside, perhaps pacing the room. The sound of his crutch against the floor echoed even outside the door.

Finally you let out the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. You squeezed your eyes tightly and pushed through the doors. “Viktor!” You didn’t mean to shout out his name but it came out that way. You were right about him pacing and he stopped dead at the sound of your voice.

“Y/N? Is something wrong?” Viktor started to walk towards you but you held a hand up to stop him.

“No, nothing is wrong. But I have something I want to share with you… well, give to you.” You walked up to Viktor and held out the portrait with shaking hands.

“What’s this?” Viktor blinked in surprise before taking the paper from you. He scanned over the image in his hands, taking in every pencil stroke.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. I don’t have any money so I couldn’t exactly buy you anything, so I thought I’d make you something instead. You don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to, or even say that you like it-“

“Y/N, this is- it’s just-“ Viktor cut you off but he was finding it hard to find the correct words. “I’ve never had someone draw me before. Do these flowers mean something specific?”

You nervously rubbed at the back of your neck. A deep blush rose on your cheeks. “Y-yeah. I looked up different flower meanings so the portrait was more… personal. This one here is Coriander, it stands for hidden worth. Those there are Lotuses, they stand for enlightenment. And those flowers in the back are red Carnations…they mean “My Heart Aches”” Viktor looked at you through sad eyes at the mention of the last flower. “I’m sorry about that last one, it’s just… I haven’t stopped thinking about your illness. It hurts my heart to know that there’s nothing that can be done to help you. I sincerely wish I could do something!”

Viktor let his crutch fall to the floor and embraced you in a tight hug, but was careful not to damage his portrait. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I appreciate all of the thought and work that you put into this portrait. I will cherish it always.”

The sudden contact left you in awe. It took a moment before you even reacted. “I-I’m glad you like it!” You managed to stutter out.

You started to move your arms, but Viktor released you before you got the chance to hug him back. He looked at you for a moment, studying your features, maybe even taking in your reaction, it was hard for you to tell. You cracked a smile and quickly bent down to retrieve his crutch. He gently took it from you, letting his hands linger on yours. His eyes met yours with such a soft and tender look that your heart skipped a beat. “Y/N…” Viktor started to speak but you pulled away and cut him off.

“I’m glad you like the gift but I’m a bit tired. I should probably go back to my room now.” You blurted out and quickly made your way to the door. “Don’t stay up too late!”

Your feet carried you as fast as they could back to your room, while you silently scolded yourself for running away. Once back you slammed your door behind you and begrudgingly sulked over to your bed. You let yourself fall onto it, burying your face in the pillows. “I’m so stupid! He was about to say something and I panicked! What is wrong with me?!” You rolled onto your side and sighed letting yourself drift off to sleep.

You were awoken the next morning by a banging on your door. It was loud, almost panicked. Groggily you crawled out of bed. “Just a minute!” You called out. That seemed to hush the banging and gave you time to throw some semblance of proper clothing on.

You opened the door and standing in front of you was Jayce. He looked wrought with worry. “Y/N, gather your things and meet me in the lab. We finished the portal. It’s time to get you home.” Jayce didn’t give you any time to respond before he left. Something was definitely wrong.

You started packing your belongings back into your purse. You placed the plush Viktor had gotten you in last letting it’s little head stick out of the top. You looked at your wardrobe and stopped for a moment. ‘Why did it seem like Jayce wasn’t giving me a choice?’ You thought to yourself. He had told you that you’d have the choice to stay or not, you even spent the time learning about Piltover and the Undercity. You were prepared to make a decision, yet Jayce was telling you to pack your things to leave. ‘Why would he change his mind? Did you do something wrong?’ You opted to leave your clothes in the wardrobe and left for the lab with only your purse in hand.

You pushed your way through the doors to the lab. The loud sound of the doors hitting the walls with an unintentional amount of force captured Jayce and Viktors attention. “You’re not taking your clothes with you?” Jayce asked when he saw you pretty much empty handed.

“I thought we would discuss what’s going on before I made any decisions.” You responded.

Jayce hesitated for a moment. He made his way over to you and led you back towards his desk and prompted you to sit down. “Y/N, I know I promised that I wouldn’t force your decision.” He took a long breath before continuing. “But things are getting hostile here. There was a large attack on an incoming shipment into the city. The council thinks we may be heading for something even worse. I can’t in good conscience let you stay.”

You stared at him for a moment. Then you turned towards Viktor for some form of reassurance. He simply turned away from your gaze. It felt like a dagger to your heart.

You shot up from your seat. “You cant be serious?! Really? Neither of you want me to stay?” Your voice cracked with the rising emotions within you.

“It is for your own safety. Please, Miss Y/N, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Viktor spoke up, but he still refused to look at you.

Your breathing began to hasten and tears welled at the edge of your eyes. Jayce placed a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “We’ve tested the portal and it is safe. All we need is a strand of your hair to lock on to your sister.”

You shoved away from him and took a couple of steps before stopping. “So thats it? No discussion? No input of my feelings about all of this?” You didn’t look at either of them, you only hoped that they would say something. Unfortunately no words came from either man. “Fine.” You sniffled. You grabbed a strand of your hair and pulled on it, wincing at the pain. Then you turned towards Jayce and held it out to him. “Here’s your DNA sample. Lets get this over with.”

Jayce placed the hair into a compartment on the portal gun and placed a Hexgem into it. The gun sparked to life with glowing runes. Jayce pulled the trigger and a beam on light shot out, opening a portal in front of him.

You stood in front of the portal, gazing into it, hoping that either one of them would tell you to stay. No such luck it would seem. You took a step forward.

“Wait!” You heard Viktor shout. Your breath shuttered and you silently thanked a higher power that he said something. Viktor was soon by your side, closer than you’d anticipated when you turned to face him. He let go of his crutch and much like the night before, embraced you in a warm hug. “I am sorry about all of this. I wish you didn’t have to leave in this way, but understand it is because we care about you.”

Tears fell from your eyes, “That doesn’t make this any easier.”

“I know.” He muttered to you.

“Viktor?” You whispered.

“Hm?” He pulled away only to gaze softly at you.

“What were you going to say to me last night?” Your conversation remained hushed, away from Jayces prying ears.

Viktor hesitated for a moment before speaking. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment made Viktor frown. “You’re not mad at me right? For running away that is?”

Viktor shook his head. “Of course not.”

You sighed in relief. You placed a hand on Viktors arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Stay safe Viktor.”

He nodded back at you. “I will.”

With that final sentiment you took another step towards the portal. “Oh! And Jayce, you stay safe too.” You almost forgot to wish him well. “I’ll miss you both, and Sky too. Tell her I said goodbye!” You rushed through the portal before either of them could say anything else.

Your sister screamed when you exited the other side of the portal into your shared apartment. “You’re alive!” She exclaimed.

“Of course Im alive! You thought I was dead?!” You rebutted as the portal closed behind you.

“You have been missing for like a month! The cops couldn’t find you anywhere and nobody knew what happened. We all expected the worst. Where were you? What was that portal you stepped out of?” Her statements were of concern but she still sounded angry with you.

“Its kind of a long story.” You slowly made your way toward your bedroom. “I kind of need to rest first though. I’ll tell you later.” You ducked inside of your room and locked the door behind you. Your sister didn’t let up at yelling at you through the door. You tried your best to ignore her as you threw your purse onto your bed before flopping down on it yourself, thankful that she didn’t get rid of any of your things despite you being missing for over a month.

You buried your head into your pillows as began to cry. ‘How could they just make me leave like that? I wanted to stay!’ You sniffled and looked to your purse. The cat plush stared back at you, a reminder of your time in Piltover and of Viktor. You took your purse and pulled out the plush, but something else fell out with it.

You gasped when you saw it… another portal gun! Viktor must have slipped it into your bag before you left. Your excitement was short lived when you realized that you’d need a hexgem and some DNA in order to get it to work. ‘Viktor wouldn’t just slip this into my bag with no way to use it’ you thought as you shook your head in hopes to make sense of everything.

You dumped your purse upside down onto the bed. Sure enough the small blue Hexgem you needed fell out and rolled until it hit a folded up piece of paper. You picked up both and unfolded the small note. The handwriting was hard to decipher at first, it was quickly scribbled and messy.

Y/N,

I knew something like this would happen and I am sorry that you are being forced to leave. I made an extra portal device so that you can return in the future, it has been preloaded with a strand of my hair as the DNA lock.

Please don’t be angry with either of us, we just want you to be safe. For this reason I beg you to wait a while before returning. Hopefully the danger Jayce believes the Undercity poses will be worked out and under control quickly.

I look forward to seeing you again,

Viktor

You couldn’t help the tears from streaming down your face as you read the note. Hope welled in your chest that you would see him again. That you could return to Piltover. All you had to do now was be patient, but for how long was the question.

[The Portrait of Viktor]

#viktor x reader #arcane fanfiction #viktor x y/n #arcane viktor #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #arcane fanfic

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kythed · 4 years ago

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“pillow talk” - a collection of conversations between you and matsukawa issei.

1. october 23rd, 1:03am.

“that was fun.” matsukawa props himself up on one elbow, lower half still covered by a disarray of blue dorm sheets.

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling your t-shirt back on, but you turn to look at him, smiling slightly. “fun?”

“great. excellent. out of this world amazing,” he says teasingly. there’s a glint in his eye and a flush in his cheeks.

“that’s what I thought.” you make to stand up, but matsukawa grabs your wrist before you can move another muscle.

“you can stay,” he says, face strangely hopeful and childlike (a sharp contrast to the night’s earlier… activities). “if you want, I mean.”

your body aches to climb back under the covers with him, to press yourself against his hot skin and let yourself fall asleep in his embrace… but what you have with matsukawa is new and fragile, and you refuse to close your fist on something delicate and shatter it in the process.

“maybe next time. I have class in the morning.” advanced calculus, to be specific. hell on earth, to be even more specific.

“will there be a next time?” there it is again. that hope.

“if you’ll have me,” you say, rising from the mattress.

“I’ll do more than have you.” he grins, cocking his head. “I’ll take you.”

and there it is — matsukawa issei, ladies and gents. you smile to yourself as you slip out of his room, committing the feel of his hands gripping your hips and his lips on yours to memory.

2. october 27th, 4:36pm.

you stay this time. it’s a weeknight, and there’s class in the morning again, but the bed is warm and matsukawa’s arm fits like it was made for you. he’s nervous, you can tell, what with the way his fingers shake slightly as they brush the hair from your eyes — but that’s okay. it’s endearing. cute, even.

“hey,” he says, voice low and throaty.

“hi,” you respond, turning your face to look at him, his sharp, angular face shaded even more dramatic by moonlight. he really is a little too pretty for his own good, you decide, running a light hand down his torso. his mouth twitches when your fingers skim over his waistband and back up again.

“tease,” he sighs, and you laugh.

“it’s what I’m best at,” you say.

“among other things,” matsukawa concedes, grinning. you gasp and hit him lightly on the chest.

“you’re so dirty minded!” you scold, and he scoffs.

“I’m the dirty minded one? listen sweetheart, twenty minutes ago you were —”

you shut him up with a swift kiss on the lips, swallowing his indignant words as he chuckles somewhere in the back of his throat and pulls you on top of him. you slide your fingers into his mess of dark hair and smile into the kiss until he finally breaks away and begins dusting smaller kisses along your jaw and collarbone.

“you know,” you breathe, trying to avoid gasping when matsukawa presses his mouth to that soft spot right below your neck, “you’re acting awfully boyfriend today, issei. you’d better be careful before I up and decide to make you mine.”

“maybe that’s what I want you do to,” he says without looking at you.

you start in surprise, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “oh, really?”

matsukawa unattaches himself from your neck and takes your face in his hands, staring up at you with a grin. “really.”

“okay,” you say, and in response he squishes your cheeks and laughs. you roll your eyes and tug on his wrists until he lets go. “okay, boyfriend.”

“okay, girlfriend.”

you’d never anticipated a relationship to fall into place so easily. but then again, with matsukawa, everything — everything from his sweet talk to his skin to his stupid pickup lines — is pretty damn smooth.

3. january 1st, 11:24pm.

“you have a nice nose,” he says, running a finger down its bridge. golden afternoon light slices through the gaps in his shutters, casting odd stripes across his face.

“I hate my nose.” you bite back a sheepish smile. “it’s weird.”

“no, it’s cute,” he insists, and despite yourself, your heart swells. maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s shallow, but nothing really beats having someone refute your insecurities, however insignificant they may be. “I’m the one with a weird nose.”

you sit straight up, nearly knocking him back. “you do not have a weird nose. I love your nose!”

“I love your face.” matsukawa gently pulls you back down, gathering you into his chest so he can rest his chin on your shoulder.

“well, it is a pretty nice face,” you say, and he huffs.

“you were supposed to say you love my face, too,” he whines in a small voice. you almost giggle at the thought of this six foot two giant baby-talking to you.

“I thought that was self-explanatory,” you say. “I like everything about you.”

matsukawa shoots you a dramatic glare, furrowing his brows. “yesterday you said you didn’t like my t-shirt.”

“it was a rick and morty t-shirt! I was morally obligated to disparage your fashion taste in that moment,” you say piously.

“so you don’t like everything about me,” matsukawa sighs, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “my girlfriend is a liar.”

“I like everything about you except for the fact that you like rick and morty,” you correct yourself.

“I like everything about you except for the fact that you don’t like rick and morty,” matsukawa shoots back, and you let out an ugly guffaw.

“alright, then. agree to disagree?”

before answering, he leans forward to give you a brief kiss that you return, enjoying the faint taste of spearmint on his lips. “you’ll come around eventually.”

“I really won’t.”

“you will.”

“I won’t.”

“you won’t.”

“I will,” you say, and then — “wait, no. damn it, issei, I can’t believe that worked on me.”

“gotcha!”

4. march 20th, 3:16am.

“dude,” matsukawa says. “we should go out for ramen.”

“did you just call me dude?” you raise an incredulous eyebrow.

“sorry,” he says, sitting upright and pulling on a shirt. “I meant babe. can we get ramen?”

“it’s 3am,” you say, catching the shirt he tosses to you and putting it on. “is there any place nearby that’s still open at this hour?”

matsukawa whisks you out of bed, bridal style, and spins you around, ignoring your protestations as you attempt to scold him between giggles. when he finally sets you down you’re dizzy, clinging to him for balance. “obviously you don’t understand the ramen business. when the craving hits, it hits, and these guys know that. that’s why there’s a 24 hour ramen-ya near every college campus in the country.”

“then,” you say, blinking hard as the room comes back into focus. “I say we go eat.”

“let zem eat ramen?” matsukawa says in a phony french accent. you want to roll your eyes but you can’t quite bring yourself to do so. he’s too damn charming about it.

“let zem eat ramen,” you repeat, and he laughs, rumpling your hair before grabbing his keys off the bedside table.

“you’re adorable.”

“I’m a legal adult,” you sigh. “why do you insist on calling me cute? I’m sexy.”

“you’re cute and sexy,” he agrees, opening the door for you. “the two are not mutually exclusive.”

“fancy words.”

“I’m just trying to impress you,” he says with an obnoxious wink.

5. april 4th, 1:58am.

“do you think there’s life in space?”

you’re lying side by side next to matsukawa, both staring up at his dorm room ceiling, where a handful of plastic stars glow in the dark.

he snickers. “you mean, like, martians? little green men with antennae?”

“sure,” you say, ignoring his jab. “or maybe enormous space whales swimming somewhere deep in the cosmos. galactic empires of cyborgs and robot servants. train stations that take you from star to star.”

“that reminds me,” he says. you feel him slip his fingers into your hand. “we should watch star wars together sometime.”

“you avoided the question,” you complain, and he laughs.

“sorry,” he says. “I’ve never given much thought to huge space whales or interplanetary train stations.”

“you’ve never wondered might be out there? never wanted to fly to the moon and see what there is to see?” the thought is alien (pun intended) to you. how could anyone look into the star speckled sky and see anything other than a mass of worlds waiting to be explored?

“I don’t need to. kinda have everything I could ever want here on earth already.” matsukawa shrugs, flashing you a grin. “good friends. perfect girlfriend. a really excellent ramen shop down the street.”

“and that’s all you need?”

“that’s all I need,” he agrees, and you stay silent, scooting closer to press yourself into matsukawa’s larger frame. maybe he has a point. you count over your blessings in your head: good friends, perfect boyfriend, a really excellent ramen shop down the street. even space whales can’t really compare, you decide, sneaking a glance at issei only to find he’s already looking down at you with a soft smile.

and maybe that’s enough. maybe it’s enough to have someone who loves you and your flaws, someone who lets you borrow his dumb graphic tees and never lets you pay for your own dinner. maybe what you have here with matsukawa issei, feet on the ground and hands intertwined, is enough.

#because i've recently been obsessed with One (1) mr. matsukawa issei #i'm pretty sure i used the i'll take you line before but you know what #screw it #it's smooth and i'll use it however many times i want #haikyuu #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa headcanons #hqcorenet

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

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What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 3

Word Count: 4,050

POV: Reader

Warning: Language

Notes: Well I’m finally at home for a night and I definitely owe you guys a story. So since I had the next part of this one ready, I dediced to post it. When last we saw these two, they had decided to divorce, and our reader had signed the papers and sent them back to Jacob. Who had forgotten to sign them. Let’s see what happens now, though I think some of you have an idea. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It had been almost seven weeks since Jacob met you. For six of those, he’d talked to you every day, sometimes two and three times. It was just these last few days that you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts. Jacob was confused, to put it mildly. He wracked his brain trying to recall the last couple of conversations that you’d had, wondering if he’d said or did something to anger you, but nothing came to mind. In Jacob’s mind, he thought the two of you were actually starting something. Sure, it had been one of the most peculiar beginnings to a relationship ever, but the last several weeks' things had been nice, better than nice actually. He thought the two of you might have a chance at a real relationship. Of course, the distance between you played a part, but he thought the two of you could work that out; apparently, he was wrong.

Jacob knew the moment he stepped poolside, that you were something special. The longer he talked to you the more he knew he’d been right. If he was being honest, it was probably one of the reasons he suggested marrying you, even though that marriage would be over soon. Just like lightning striking in the middle of a storm, it hit Jacob then why you were pissed. He’d forgotten to sign the divorce papers. He’d had them for well over two weeks now. Rushing into the office, he started rifling through all the crap on his desk looking for the manila envelope that you’d mailed it to him in. He was just in the process of opening it when the front doorbell rang, so back on the desk it went, as he headed to the door to answer it.

Jacob was shocked to see you standing there. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did. It took him a moment to recover before taking you in. There were dark circles under your eyes that made it look like you hadn’t slept in days, not to mention how puffy they looked as if you’d been crying. Jacob wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and make whatever seemed to be causing you this much pain go away.

“Hey,” you mumbled out weakly. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside, letting you into his home. It was your typical bachelor pad. Walls stark and devoid of any real character that you knew Jacob possessed. He led you over to the couch in the living room, an enormous piece of furniture designed for his large frame. It almost seemed to swallow you whole. “(Y/N) is everything ok?” There was concern in his eyes and you knew he was probably questioning your presence there after you’d been radio silent the last few days.

“No.” The one-word answer was hard to push out without tears falling down your eyes. You could see how Jacob’s fingers itched to touch you and honestly that’s all you wanted right now, for him to just take you in his arms and somehow have all the answers, but he had to know the problem first. You took a deep breath trying to steel yourself for what you needed to tell him. “Jacob, I don’t know how to tell you this.” At that moment Jacob grabbed your hands and engulfed them in his giving you his support in just that simple touch. It gave you enough courage to blurt out the last part. “I’m pregnant.”

You felt his hands slip a bit on yours at the shock of the news; his mouth working trying to form a sentence yet nothing coming out. It took a minute but he finally found his words. “Wow, um…ok…I hate to ask this…”

This was the part you knew was coming, expected it really and you didn’t blame him at all. So, to spare him, you found yourself answering the unspoken question. “It’s yours.” He nodded but you felt the need to explain more. “I haven’t been with anyone since Vegas, and even before that, well, work was really busy, and…well let’s just say it had been over a month or longer.”

“You don’t have to say anymore, (Y/N). I believe you.” His hands tightened on yours, the shock of everything starting to wear off. “Plus, we didn’t use protection.” It was something you didn’t give much thought to when you were with Jacob, which was odd because you’d always been extra cautious with hookups, but then everything with Jacob was different than anyone else. “Do you…do you know what you want to do?”

This time you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I tried, Jacob. I really did.” He looked confused, unsure of what you meant by that. “I went to get an abortion yesterday.” He blinked hard but other than that showed no expression. “I was sitting there on the damn table in a gown just waiting for the doctor to come in and then I looked around. There was this damn chart that showed what the size of your baby is every week compared to fruit of all things. It’s a blueberry by the way. A damn cute little blueberry, like the kind they put in muffins and stuff.” Why it had to be an adorable little fruit like that you didn’t know. Why couldn’t it be honeydew? You hated that fruit. Well maybe not hate, but it wasn’t your favorite that’s for sure. “Anyhow, I was just staring at that poster and looking at each week and I don’t know. I couldn’t breathe.” Kind of like now, even telling him brought back all those feelings. “I started thinking about the doctor telling me that I could hear the heartbeat next week when she did the ultrasound, and I’m not sure what happened, but I couldn’t go through with it; so, I left. I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t quite sure if you were apologizing to him or yourself. This was something you didn’t want, at least not right now, or at least that’s what you always thought. Now, you didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You took a deep breath, composing yourself. “I booked a flight once I got home. I couldn’t tell you this over the phone or text. You deserved to hear it in person.”

“Thank you for that.”

You slipped your hands out of his, distancing yourself from him for this next part, but also pulling out the envelope you brought. “I’m going to keep the baby.” As if that part wasn’t obvious, but you somehow felt it needed to be said. “I had Aaron draw up some papers. They absolve you from any obligations to the child both financially and emotionally. All you have to do is sign them. You won’t even have to be listed on the birth certificate.” He took the envelope from your hands, glancing briefly at the contents inside. “I’m sure you’ll want to have your lawyer look it over.”

Jacob didn’t know what to think. Ten minutes ago, he was wondering if you were ever going to speak to him again and now you were telling him you were having his child. A child you apparently didn’t want him to be a part of. But did he even want a baby? He certainly hadn’t wanted a wife, yet here he was still married to you. He should come clean right now and tell you that he hadn’t signed the papers yet. That some indescribable feeling had taken over him, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to sign them anymore. And now, well, now he felt like he shouldn’t sign them. Maybe this was all some force in the universe steering his life in a different direction; a route he hadn’t planned on taking until later, yet here he was on it. “And what if I don’t want to sign them?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you thought he’d say. You didn’t think this was something either of you wanted, but you couldn’t be certain. It wasn’t like the two of you had had this long talk about where you saw your life in five years. Hell, this wasn’t where you saw your life in five months, but here you were, on the verge of being divorced with a baby on the way. “Well, I guess we’ll need to figure things out then.”

Jacob got up and started to wander around the living room. You weren’t sure if he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to sign the papers or how he was going to be part of his child’s life. “Do you want a drink or something? I need a drink. Oh shit, you can’t drink, can you?”

“It’s not advised, but please don’t let that stop you. Though if you have a water that would be great.” He headed towards the kitchen, which gave you a chance to just breathe. The hardest part was telling him, all the rest you’d figure out. He was back quicker than you expected, a bottle of water in each hand. He handed one over to you and sat back down beside you. “You know, you can think about this if you want. You don’t have to sign or not sign them right now.”

He nodded and pursued his lips before answering, though not how you expected. “How long are you here for?”

“A few days. There’s a movie being filmed not far from here. I offered to drop off some of the specs for the campaign, as long as I was here, but it also gives you some time to make a decision.”

“I already have. I want to be in our baby’s life.” You don’t know why but it felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted off your chest. It was nice to know that you weren’t in this alone. “But there’s a lot to figure out.”

“Yes, there is.”

“(Y/N), this is going to sound crazy, but I want you to move here.”

Pregnancy did weird things to the body and maybe your hearing things was one of them because you were pretty sure Jacob had just said he wanted you to move to Vancouver. “I’m sorry, you want me to move here, as in Vancouver?”

“Well, yeah but I want you to move in here, like in my house.”

He seemed dead serious and you weren’t sure how to take his suggestion or him at the moment. “But my life and my home are in LA. That’s where my job is.” Couldn’t he see that?

“I know, but moving here just makes sense. I’ll be able to help you then, not just after the baby is born but before as well. I have plenty of room in this house. There are three spare bedrooms; we can turn one into a nursery for the baby.”

How could go from finding out you were pregnant to a full out plan of attack in less than a half-hour? God, it took you a day to wrap your head around it when you found out and then another to make the decision about the abortion, and even then you still didn’t figure out you wanted to keep the baby until you were sitting in the doctor’s office. Jacob seemed to be processing everything much better than you were.

“I don’t know Jacob, just because we’re having this baby together doesn’t mean we have to live together.” Everything with Jacob was still in this weird transition phase like you went from being wildly attracted to each other, to being married, to getting a divorce, to now having a baby, and now he wanted you to live together under the same roof. You didn’t even know if the two of you would get along that great. Sure, the sex was amazing, well really better than amazing if that was even a thing, and you seemed to get along if your conversations over the last several weeks were any indication, but to live together; that could just be a whole other problem altogether.

“Look I know it’s a lot to ask and believe me if I could, I’d be willing to move to LA. It’s not like I can just ask to be traded there though. But I don’t want you to have to do this on your own.” It was awfully sweet of him to want to be there for you, and not just the baby. You’d just assumed that he’d want to see the baby on some weekends and maybe an extended time during the summer when he was off. “You don’t realize this yet, but there’s going to be a whole hockey family here for you. That’s just the way it is in this sport.” He grasped your hands then, the gesture one pleading in and of itself for you to see his side of things. “We can do this (Y/N), together.”

Together, it sounded so nice. You knew that if he had decided to sign the papers that being a single mom was going to be tough, but now knowing that he wanted to be there every step of the way eased some of the burden you felt. It was just hard to think about giving up the life you’d built for yourself in LA. You were already giving up so much as it was. “I get what you’re asking, I really do. I just…it’s a lot.” His thumb started to run back and forth across your knuckles, softly urging you to his side without him even knowing it. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course.”

“I mean we don’t have to decide everything tonight.”

“No, we don’t.” He smiled at you. The same one he gave you when you’d been in Vegas. It gave you butterflies in your stomach back then as it did now. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, I get a little queasy now and then; mostly when I’m hungry. I’ve learned to carry crackers with me everywhere.”

“Well, I could make you something or we could order.” The fact that he even offered scored points in your book and was definitely a check on his side of the box for moving to Vancouver, and you were kind of hungry.

“I mean, I haven’t really eaten.” He gave you a disapproving stare and you felt the need to justify why you hadn’t. “I was too nervous before.”

“Well, then let’s get you something to eat.” Jacob led you out to the kitchen, where he took out some chicken along with some vegetables to stick in the oven. The two of you worked side by side getting dinner ready. You were midway chopping up some zucchini when Jacob brought the baby back up again. “You mentioned something about the heartbeat. Were you able to hear it?”

“I have to schedule an ultrasound when I get back but they said that I should be able to.”

“Mmm.” You weren’t exactly sure what that little hum meant. Was that a good hum, or a bad one? You stayed silent waiting for him to say more. “Do you think you could record it for me?”

Why did your heart just flutter when he asked that? Was it because he wanted to hear the baby or was it because you were realizing how much he would be missing when you went back to LA? “I will,” you finally told him, but then had an even better idea. “Though you know, I’m here for four more days. Maybe we could find a doctor that would be able to do it while I’m here.”

His face lit up, like a little boy on Christmas morning. “You would do that?”

“Yeah. If we can find a doctor to squeeze us in.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He pulled out his phone, you weren’t sure if he was searching for gynecologists or texting someone, either way, it was adorable how he just jumped in at the first mention of being a part of this whole pregnancy. Again, he was showing you just how nice it would be to share this with him. Ten minutes later he had an appointment all set for you in two days.

During dinner you talked about how you had found out you were pregnant, telling him the story of how Kennedy was the one to point out your nausea wasn’t normal and that you should take a pregnancy test. She was the only one that knew you were pregnant. You swore her to secrecy, hoping that she wouldn’t spill the beans this time like she had about a certain movie star. Surprisingly, he wanted to know everything, though there wasn’t too much to tell. By the time you got the mess cleaned up from dinner, you were starting to feel the weariness of the day.

“I think I’m going to head over to the hotel. I still need to check in. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep better tonight, now that you finally know.”

“Stay.” The word fell out of Jacob’s mouth in almost an authoritative manner, which belied the puppy dog look on his face. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean you could stay here if you wanted. Sort of like a tryout or something.”

“You mean trial run?” Leave it to his athletic side to call it a tryout. It made you laugh.

“Yeah. We could just take the next few days and see how we do together.” It wasn’t a bad idea. “You call and cancel the hotel and I’ll go grab your bag from the car.” He was halfway to the door before you actually agreed.

As Jacob went outside, he contemplated with himself as to where he should put your things. Did he just bring your luggage to his room or should he give you one of the spare rooms? Despite the fact you were carrying his child, his body still wanted you as much, if not more, than when you were in Vegas. He just wasn’t sure where you saw things going.

You were just hanging up the phone when he walked back into the house and unbeknownst to him, you were wondering the same thing. However, your head kept telling you that if the two of you were going to make this work, you needed to keep things out of the bedroom, at least for now. Jacob must have had the same thought as you, for when he came in, he said, “Here, I’ll show you where the spare bedroom is.” The room was spacious but again, it wasn’t that homey, and occurred to you that if you decided to live here, you’d definitely need to make some changes. “Did you maybe wanna watch a movie or something, or are you tired?”

You could see he was struggling in this unchartered territory as much as you were, and while you were exhausted; you still wanted to spend time with him, to see if moving to Vancouver was even an option. “I’d love to watch a movie. Do you mind if I change first?”

“No, not at all.” He fidgeted with the back of his neck a bit, before turning to leave. “I’ll meet you back downstairs.”

You really wanted to take a hot shower and crawl into bed, but instead, you opted for just washing up quickly and slipping on a pair of pajamas you’d brought. It was still warm in LA, though the nights were a bit cooler. All you brought to sleep in were a couple pairs of shorts and some comfy t-shirts, thinking that you’d be in a hotel room by yourself. Now, you were wishing that you’d thought about it a little more and packed something a little warmer, if not more modest. Why you cared, you weren’t sure, considering this man had seen you completely naked several times.

Jacob had changed into some sweats by the time you got downstairs. He had bottles of water for you both along with a pack of crackers laying on the coffee table, and you had to admit your heart melted a little bit when you saw that. “So, what kind of movies do you like? I remember you saying no horror.”

“We don’t have to watch a movie. I know the Bruins are playing tonight and that you play them tomorrow. Why don’t you just turn the game on?” He looked surprised that you knew his schedule, but you did a deep dive finding out as much information as you could once you found out you were pregnant. He was going to be the baby's father, even if he would've decided not to be in your child's life, though now that he decided he wanted to be, the information was even more useful.

“Are you sure?” You nodded giving him the go-ahead to watch his opponents’ play. “Speaking of that, would you be interested in going to the game? I mean I know someone who could get you a ticket on short notice?” He looked so adorable when he asked you couldn’t tell him no.

“I’d love to.” You’d watched very few hockey games live, though ever since Las Vegas, you’d been following the Canucks, well, more like Jacob. It would be fun to see him in action.

“Great, I can leave you a ticket or have Erik’s fiancé come and take you. You’ll love her.”

Jacob really wanted you to jump in with both feet, didn’t he? You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to meet all his friends and teammates, but you supposed that if you moved here this would be a part of your life. “If she wouldn’t mind that would be great.”

“I’ll text him now.”

“Jacob,” you stopped him, just by saying his name. “Can we keep the baby our secret for now? I know Kennedy knows and I don’t expect you to keep it to yourself, but I don’t want to broadcast it either. At least until we know what we’re doing.”

He took your hand in his, the gesture reassuring. “Yeah (Y/N), we can do that.”

It wasn’t long before your attire got the best of you and you found yourself tucking your feet underneath you on the couch trying to keep them warm. You thought that Jacob was fully absorbed in the game, but he caught the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

He scooted your closer to him, his large frame wrapping around yours. You weren’t sure if it was his body heat or him just holding you, but it was definitely warmer in seconds, though Jacob still covered you with a throw blanket that was on the couch. “Better?”

“Much.” It wasn’t long before you found yourself dozing off. The stress of the day and travel wearing on you. Your head fell softly against his shoulder and you sighed in contentment.

Jacob felt your body relax against him and he savored the feel of it. He’d honestly missed this closeness to another person in a completely non-sexual way and having you in his arms just felt right. He should’ve been paying attention to the game, scouting out his opponents but instead all he could do was watch you, even before you fell asleep. His fingers were idly stroking your bare arm under the blanket, slowly inching their way down to your wrist. He didn’t realize they’d made their way to your midsection until they were there; just lightly caressing you, scared he would wake you, but he had to touch you there. He’d been dying to all night but been afraid to ask as if it was almost an invasion of your privacy even though you were carrying his child. His child. The thought both terrified him and thrilled him. Jacob always wanted kids; knew that someday he would have them. He just didn’t think it would be this soon. He always assumed that he’d start his family after hockey was over, but here he was with a wife and child on the way. It was something he hadn’t bargained for and never saw coming. Apparently, what happened in Vegas was a lot more than he gambled on.

taglist: @iculyrea @fiveholegoal @raysofcrosby @leafs-lover @sexysidney87 @lovethepreds @miranda0102 @stbluesbrat21 @perrieeloise @mandypants95 @hockeyunits @liz96893 @golfergirl1982 @princessphilly @ajstylesworld @zinka8 @dontworrybeekappy @hiimana @meishaabae @heatherawoowoo @beauvibaby @hockeybabe87 @leafs-forever

#What Happens in vegas series #whivdast #jacob markstrom #jacob markstrom imagine #jacob markstrom imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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henryobsessed · 3 years ago

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The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 16

Word Count: 1634

Warnings: none

A/N @sillyrabbit81 and @amberangel112 - you guys are so important to getting this story finished - Thank you.

and to my beautiful readers, your encouragement, engagement, and cheeky comments fill my day with Joy :) So here is another chapter.

Chapter 16 – Jessie

The soft translucent steam wafted up from the cup of coffee warming up Jessie's hands. She had been called out in the middle of the night to a cattle ranch to help with the birthing of a cow in distress. She was grateful that Joe was still staying with them as she had been able to wake him to go with her. Together they had helped the cow deliver twins, one had been breech, and they had to help manipulate it to turn.

That had been 5 hours ago, and on returning, Joe washed up and went back to bed. But Jessie had too much adrenaline rushing through her system. Instead, she used this time, the stillness of the kitchen, the soft early bird calls outside, and the clicking clock on the mantle to help her calm down. To process what had happened over the last few days.

Yesterday had been so eventful, full of fear, anxiety, joy and then sadness. Henry had finally managed to change back to his human form and just in time mind you. Her fear that they would make her kill him had driven her to desperately call to him. When he turned the relief that flooded her body had been enormous. It was followed, however, with another kind of fear, this Henry didn’t recognise her, or where he was. In fact, she had surmised this consciousness was still that young man that fifteen years ago had come searching for her. In one way that was great, he recognised she was his mate and was not fearful in her presence. But she was left with the horrible task of reminding him that his family were all dead. That his nephew was living with another pack, and unless he remembered where the pack was, there was no way of finding him.

On top of that, she had a young man to worry about. When the trio had returned last evening after shopping for clothes for Henry, she noticed that Tom was very quiet. Joe was his bratty self, proclaiming that he had told her that Wolfy was a were all those weeks before. Dillon was accepting of this unusual event more than she thought was right to be. But Tom, he was quieter than normal. He didn’t run away or hide in his room, but his body language was closed off, he held himself aloof no longer playing with Joe. The whole evening and night Henry had slept, so the boys had not been able to question him. But she knew it would happen and wondered what the conversation between Tom and Henry would look like. They had been so close when he had been in wolf form, that she was worried that the young man would struggle now that Henry was a 31yr old man.

She heard a creak on the stairs and looked up just as the man in question walked into the kitchen. Tom’s hair stuck out at all angles, his skinny yet toned chest and arms were bare, giving him an almost manly look, if it had not been for the Pokémon PJ bottoms he was wearing. He walked to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before he turned, leaning his bottom against the bench. He took a sip of the black brew and almost dropped the mug when he recognised Jessie sitting at the table. She chuckled at his sleepy self. “Didn’t sleep well, Tom?” He shook his head and then lowered his eyes, staring into the mug as if it held all the answers to life and the universe.

She went back to her own coffee, she wasn’t going to push the young man to talk, it wasn’t her place. The only thing she wanted to do was give him a safe place to land, and a family to belong to. Now that Boyd was dead, the ranch was safer, but his father was still an unknown part of the equation. She wasn’t really sure even of his mother who had made no contact since he had been staying with them. It broke her heart to see that the young man had not grown up in a loving home, instead one dominated with proving you were good enough for affection.

He pushed himself off the bench and placed the now empty mug in the sink. “Are you going into the clinic today?” his soft voice seemed hesitant in the stillness.

“I will yes, but not before I get some sleep. I’ve been out most of the night at the Happy Saddle’s Ranch. Helping birth twins.”

He nodded at that. “I’ll stay here with Henry when you do so you won’t have to worry.”

She smiled a small soft smile. “I would like that, thank you. I don’t think he is ready to get out of bed for too long yet. His shoulder will take longer to heal… Well, that’s what all the were books say. They take longer to heal when human. At least that’s what Joe was talking about all the way to the ranch and back again this morning. And Tom, don’t push him on his memory. Just give him what he wants ok?”

A big yawn caught Jessie by surprise. Tom walked forward and took her empty mug. “Ok, Miss Jessie. Why don’t you head back to bed? I will field any calls that might come in. You just rest.”

Standing she yawned again before handing him her phone. “Thanks, Tom, you really are amazing, don’t let anyone tell you any different.” She lent up and kissed him on the cheek, red blossomed across his face at her action and he coughed a little.

“Thanks, Miss Jessie, I’ll remember that.” She touched his arm to affirm her words, then headed upstairs for bed.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she heard a whimper coming from her room. Inside she found Henry had tossed around claiming her side of the bed, burying his head in her pillow, and now his body was star fished on his stomach taking up the whole bed. Lack of sleep created anger in her chest. Agitated she stiffened her shoulders and wondered how the hell she was going to get into the bed. A new whimper interrupted her frustrated thoughts. Deflating, she slumped and walked over to where his head was, gently running her hand through his hair, then the tips of her fingers down his furrowed brow. His eyes slowly opened. There she saw a lost empty look before recognition and then peace. “Hey,” his deep rough voice broke out. “You were gone.”

“Sorry, I had to go to work. How about you scoot over and I’ll tell you about it.” He rolled onto his side and moved back as she wearily slid between the sheets. Just as she was about to lift her arm and invite him into a hug, she felt her body being pulled into his hard warm physique. Her face tucked into his furry chest, the familiar scent of his musk, and his thick arms wrapped around her. She didn’t want to, but in that moment all her memories of their time at the tree came flooding into her brain, causing her to begin to weep. She had missed him, missed his touch, missed his confident warmth. As she began to unravel his hands soothingly ran up and down her back. Eventually, she wore herself out, the comfort she felt lulling her into a deep sleep.

A few hours later she awoke in the same position, soft voices speaking around her. “Are you sure she has to be woken? Can’t we just cancel her work for the day?” his voice rumbled softly.

Before anyone had the option to answer she spoke up, “I’m up, it’s ok.” She tried to push out of his arms, but he held fast growling at her movement. “Henry, Love, you have to let me go. Tom will stay with you while I’m at work, it will only be for two hours then I will be back again.” She felt the hesitation at first until Tom’s name was mentioned.

“You mean the tall boy?” she stifled a laugh by burying her head in his chest.

She made a move out of his arms. Looking at his face, irritation laced across his brow. “Yes Henry, the tall boy. When I get home, I will cook you up some nice large pieces of steak, ok?”

That bought a smile to his face. “OK.” Chuckling at the now boyish look on his face she climbed out of bed, grabbing some clothes then left to shower.

Joe was in the car ready to leave. Dillon had left to get more clothes from their house as it seemed Joe was unwilling to miss out on any werewolf interaction. Tom stood at the front door, Henry leaning gingerly against the door frame holding his head high even though she could see the strain on his face. “You two be good, ok? Why don’t you watch a movie? By the time it finishes, I will be home.”

Tom smiled and reached an arm around Henry, helping to prop him up, his tall lean body towering over the shorter, well-built man. “Don’t worry Miss Jessie, I’ll take good care of him.” An odd look crossed Tom’s face as he spoke, and Jessie felt a niggle in the back of her head. But she had to leave, and until now Tom had been trustworthy, he had put his body on the line for Jessie and Wolfy. Dismissing the thought, she smiled back waved at Henry and jumped in the truck. Only a few hours she mused as she looked in the revision mirror at the two men waving at her as they drove away.

Chapter 17

#The Veterinarian and the Werewolf #werewolf #henry cavill

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

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

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

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

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

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

word count: 24.2k

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

///

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

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

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

Harry still hates clubs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is that so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lock the door on your way out!”

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first thing he notices is the dress.

Fuck, the dress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far from it, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like your dress.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It felt really nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

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

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

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

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

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7.

I’ll see you there, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

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

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

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

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

Sounds good to me, Sherlock.

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hands off.”

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

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

“Ask for permission.”

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

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need interior design advice.

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

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

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

Genuinely?

Yup!

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

Alright, shoot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immature?

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

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks.

Alright, go head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touché.

Exactly.

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

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

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

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

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

Maybe.

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

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You read my mind.

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

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

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

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

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

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

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

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

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m going to call you.

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

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

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

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

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