#stone tile table top

[whattheshift]

Patio in Seattle Ideas for a sizable, classic backyard patio renovation that includes a fire pit

[readrtheme]

Eclectic Family Room Baltimore Large eclectic enclosed porcelain tile and brown floor family room photo with a bar, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a tv stand

[fandomsandcountriesinthetardis]

Tile Patio Orange County Small trendy backyard tile patio photo with no cover

[biciudades]

Tampa Pool Hot Tub

Inspiration for a mid-sized mediterranean backyard tile and custom-shaped hot tub remodel

[athousanddresses]

Home Bar in Indianapolis

[genshxn]

guess who wants to (honkai: star) rail another dragon man. there is also (un)fortunately no (star) railing in this.

written pre 1.3 so i’m making shit up for now. (this is also full of vidyadhara headcanons)

in which you find dan heng unable to sleep, you have an awkward conversation, and then he becomes somewhat dragon-brained. twice.

4.2K words (lmao this is way longer than i meant it to be)

you’re not the trailblazer, just another laddie aboard the express.

btw, i bullshited a good chunk of the dialogue and events, so apologies if this is shite. i might've also committed character vehicular manslaughter, in that he might be ooc. lol fingers crossed it's aight.

part 2’s finally up if you wanna read it here

despite the quiet of the night, you had drifted from your sleep. it had been painfully light as of recent, leaving you adrift in the shallows while you’d toss and turn for a comfortable position. could you really be blamed though? yes, the looming threat of phantylia had been taken out, and everyone from the express that went aboard the luofu had been reunited after what felt like weeks. but you were still in the thick of an intricate web of chaos. the threats were far from over, not with the stellaron still active. but at least for now, you had enough time in this brief respite to be able to not fucking sleep.

you rolled over. you were more or less itching with restlessness, sighing to yourself quietly over your woes of no sleep. you rose from your mussed bed and hobbled out of the room. it was a quaint little place—where you had stayed when it was just the express crew (minus dan heng), when you'd first met tingyun. after that, everything happened like a landslide. memories of her sudden death quickly boiled their way up. with each step you took, you stamped them back down again.

out in the small hallway, you made your way towards the small courtyard out the back. as you walked past the other rooms, you were a little jealous at the sounds of others sleeping. from mr. yang's and march’s respective rooms was the odd, soft snore. from stelle’s room, there was nothing (which was to be expected, as you often found her out messing with the cycrane systems at night). as you walked past dan heng’s room, you were expecting more silence—which you were of course met with, but also a slitted door. you peered through into the darkness. from the dim hallway light, it seemed he had also tried and failed at sleep if his abandoned, nest-like sheets were anything to go by.

you continued to the courtyard. once you cracked open the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. moonlight caught on the black, silken strands that spilt down his back. a glassy, teal tail coiled around his feet, almost glinting in the light with each of its subtle movements. dan heng, wearing his simple night clothes of old, baggy slacks and a tight, black tank top. his ears twitched as you slid the door open further. when you stepped onto the stone tiles, he cast you an over-shoulder glance—a new habit he’d picked up recently.

"can’t sleep either?" you asked him softly, approaching from behind. 

the only response he gave was a strained groan, dragging a hand over his face.

"i take that as a no, then," you said, moving over to sit in another stool at the small table just next to him. as you went past, his tail wound tighter around the foot of his seat. 

"i take it that it’s the same for you," he muttered in reply, jade eyes cast somewhere on the ground between him and you. 

"yep." you leaned against the table next to you, arm propping up your head. your eyes flickered to his face. "and not because i’ve been up playing gacha games."

he briefly met your gaze, eyebrows quirked in doubt.

"okay, i don’t do it anywhere near as much as stelle." 

"right," he said with the faintest hint of a smile. the tip of his tail twitched in amusement. "her room was very quiet when i walked past, though. perhaps she’s mended her ways." 

"i think she’s out screwing with the cycranes instead, actually." 

"of course she is," he breathed as he raked a hand through his long hair. as you watched it pass through the delicate tresses, you stared intently at his claws. after his initial transformation, to say you were floored was an understatement. perhaps more like you were punched 50,000 feet below sea level. he could really only be described as beautiful, but even that word couldn’t quite capture his ethereality. even when he was as exhausted as he looked now, he still seemed to glow—quite literally, too. his eyes and those horns atop his head shone faintly in the dark. when someone was that pretty, how could one not be reduced to a staring fool? particularly you.  as of recent, you’ve ended up forgetting you’re supposed to actually talk to him when he’s with you. and if you did remember to ever say anything, you’d make a fool of yourself. 

he watched your gaze affixed to his hands. he took one look at them and then wrung them in his lap, looking off to the side with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. 

"ah, i’m sorry—" you began, but he quickly cut you off. 

"it’s fine," he said hurriedly, tail coiling up tighter.

"no, really. i know i’ve been acting pretty weir—" 

"i said it’s fine. please, just leave it." he said again. he unwound himself just a little, but the tense line of his shoulders still had yet to dissipate. his gaze wandered a little more back towards you. "may i ask what’s keeping you up?" 

you weren’t thrilled at the spontaneous topic change, but replied nonetheless. "just about everything, i guess. a lot’s been going on. it’s hard to take any time to rest with a stellaron still effectively looming overhead," you said. "though i could only imagine it’s about that, but tenfold for you, given the whole..." you gestured vaguely to his whole new look. 

he dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his sleepy eyes in the process. "i don’t want to think about the stellaron for now…"

"agreed. shall we put a pin in that topic, then?"

"that would be ideal."

the two of you sat in more silence. you were (only half) guiltily back to staring at his features, eyes running over all parts of him. he seemed to shrink under your gaze, ears and tail twitching with thought. his eyes drifted up to look at you—oh, there was something new. his pupils must dilate or constrict based on what he was looking at. when his eyes met yours, you could have sworn they momentarily expanded, until his eyes flickered away again, waning right back to slits. at the same time, his ears angled themselves down just a touch. 

"a—are you feeling okay?" you asked, tilting your head a little. he made a small groan and shelled further into himself. you didn’t think you had ever seen him that tense. "hey, look at me. are you alright?" your voice was as soft as you could make it. you tried to reach out to the arm he had leaning on the table, but it was in vain. he inched away moments before contact.

"i—" his tail-tip continued to flicker with apprehension. 

"well, something else is definitely bothering you. can you talk to me about it?"

"m-must i?" he was almost hiding his face.

"only if you want to," you shuffled yourself a little closer to him. "but if it’s weighing this much on you, it may make you feel a little lighter. so you can sleep. y’know." while you spoke, you gestured somewhat vaguely. ever since his vidyadhara heritage was put on full display, he hadn’t quite been the same as you knew him. he was more tense than usual. on-edge and anxious, preoccupied with his own thoughts, much unlike the down-to-earth dan heng you normally knew. it worried you. he wasn’t even really speaking to mr. yang. with everything that had been going on, you could barely begin to imagine what sort of turmoils he had churning within him. 

"i suppose one thing is that i’m simply not used to this form," he ran a clawed, slender finger up from the base of his horn to the tip. "there’s a strange disparity between feeling like i’ve known myself to be like this my whole existence, but also that i’m suddenly someone i’m not." as he spoke, his voice was quiet. "in a similar vein, it’s like my tail has a mind of its own. look at it," he grumbled while he picked it up into his lap. as he held it bundled in his arms, the tip hung over the side, twitching to and fro. "i’m not trying to make it do that. i can’t control it." he sighed, a slight growl in his throat. 

"wouldn’t it do that because you’ve been so… frazzled, as of recent?" 

"what makes you think that?" 

"um…" how were you supposed to tell him that you only had that theory because you had been constantly stealing glances of him, watching his moods, watching his languid beauty. instead, you thought of some other bullshit answer. "i mean, it’d make sense, wouldn’t it? it’s like cats. their tails twitch when they’re irritated, and i’m sure they can’t quite control it." 

he frowned a little, ears twitching downward. "i’m not a cat," he said, almost with a little pout. 

maybe not, but he was certainly cute like one. "anyway, what you said about your new features…" you began, scratching the back of your head. to your surprise, he looked at you with eyes just a little wider than normal. "i could only imagine how weird it must be for you… who am i kidding, no i couldn’t. it’s probably downright foreign, but you’re dan heng. i’m sure you’ll have it under control in no time." 

with his hands on his knees, he aimlessly grabbed at fistfuls of his loose pants. "you…" he muttered, wetting his lips as he swallowed thickly once again. 

"me?" you echoed quietly.

"forgive me for asking something so asinine, but… what… do you think?" as he muttered out the words, you could have sworn his face was turning a light shade of pink. however, it was hard to tell under only the moon and the dim lights of the courtyard. what you could tell was that his tail-tip was twitching like a bundle of nerves.

you stared at him with owlish eyes. "what do i think of what?" 

"what do you think of… me. as i am now?" 

your breath caught in your throat for a moment as he stared at you with such apprehensive eyes. they were slitted from nerves, but they shone with the moonlight, expectation and most curiously, some sort of hope. "um…"

"i’ve noticed how much you stare at me, yet you said nothing when you first saw me, unlike mr. yang or march. now, you feel almost stilted when you’re with me, like you refuse to address what’s in front of you." 

you swallowed hard at his words. "didn’t stelle also not…" you trailed off. you were doing it again, what he quite literally just said. 

"i’ve spoken to her since then. i’m asking you." he seemed to have regained a little confidence, sitting up straighter and looking at you with the slightest bit more intensity.

now it was your turn to grab at fistfuls of your clothes. you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt as you spoke, heart pounding a mile a minute. "you’ve been truthful with me, so i guess i should too," you muttered. "you, ah, um…" this was really not the direction you thought this conversation would go in. "to be really honest with you, i keep staring because you’re so… pretty."

dan heng sat motionless. if it weren’t for his vidyadhara features, he almost could have gotten away with simply being frozen. upon your words, his eyes widened just a fraction, jade-white pupils dilating. his ears twitched back upwards and his tail fell still. heavy moments of silence passed while you two stared at each other. it seemed like he was waiting for you, so you kept talking. "i didn’t speak much to begin with simply because i was so surprised. i mean, we see you again after so long and there you are, just about the most beautiful thing i’d ever seen, suddenly with the power to split an ocean. after that, i didn’t trust myself to not be weird about you, so i… kind of just refused to say anything." you rubbed the back of your neck, face burning. "but i guess that plan fell flat on its face if you noticed me staring so much." 

once you finished speaking, his gaze fell into his lap, gazing down at his hands that held fistfuls of fabric once again. "but… these powers aren’t me." 

"of course not. they’re not you, only a fraction of the whole you," there was a slight smile on your lips. "are you worried that i don’t see you as dan heng anymore?" 

he made no effort to confirm or deny anything, simply remaining as he was—a blatant yes for him. 

a small smile made its way onto your face. "you’re always going to be one and only dan heng that the whole express—that i—know and love, no matter what other forms you take." you shuffled yourself closer to him once again, now finally able to reach out and brush your thumb over the back of his hand. as you sat there, your face was burning up at your words. did you really have to word it like that? if you really wanted to be honest with him, then yes. 

he was still sat ramrod upright, but a blush now dusted his cheeks and his pupils were blown wide. his tail-tip was back to moving, this time wagging back and forth. he looked between you and your hand on his own, letting out a shaky breath. while he was still as nerve-wrecked as could be, a weight on his shoulders seemed to have been lifted. he looked like he was about to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, out came a long yawn. even though he tried to hide it with with his wrist, you still managed to catch a glimpse of his fangs. 

"sorry," he muttered, rubbing one of his eyes. “also, you’re still staring."

"ah, i—i’m sorry, i’ve been acting so weird. i—that habit’s not gonna go away any time soon…" you yanked your hands back into your lap. he looked a little disappointed at the new lack of contact. "anyway, how do you think you’ll sleep now?"

"please do not worry about me. what about yourself?" 

"um…" your heart is still pounding in your throat. "i—i don’t know, to be honest." whatever the answer was, it was bound to be ‘not well’.

"in the past, you’ve come to the archives when you haven’t been able to sleep. you’d place yourself on my bed and then ten minutes later, i’d find you fast asleep." his voice was soft when he spoke, almost with a faint note of mirth. "i wouldn’t mind if you…"

your eyes almost fell out of your head. "hold on, are you really—"

"you’re welcome to sleep next to me, if you’d like." 

"like in your room?" 

"where else?" when he stared at you, there wasn’t much obvious emotion on his face, but at the same time, he seemed so earnest with his tail-tip flicking back and forth happily. 

"but i thought you found it annoying when i did that?" 

"only because you'd wake me in the early hours of the morning. truly, i’ve never been opposed to it."

your face prickled with heat as you raked a hand through your hair. "are you sure you’re completely the same dan heng?" 

"hey." he looked miffed. 

"sorry, sorry." you were just about hiding your face in your hands by this point. "i just thought—" before you could finish, he stood up, long tail unwinding from around the seat. he took two steps and then plucked you off of your own chair. as you yelped in shock, he flopped you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “hey, what’re you—?!" 

"would you stop being so adamant if i say it will help me sleep too?" 

you gave up drumming on his back, only able to hang in embarrassment as you covered your face. your head may as well have been steaming. "wh—what the fuck is this?" 

he made no reply as he marched you back inside. as he walked, you watched his tail-tip as it was curled upwards, swaying from side to side. his room was close—he opened the door with his foot, stepped in and slid it closed again with his tail. as soon as you were properly enclosed, he placed you onto the bed with unexpected gentleness. in the past, if you were causing trouble, his method of dealing with you was hauling you off somewhere and simply dropping you—now, it was the opposite. you were left dazed in the middle of the sheet-nest, only back to your senses once dan heng got in next to you. but instead of settling down for sleep like you anticipated, he was shuffling about on his knees, rearranging the sheets and pillows so they were in a better formation, according to him. he was even using his tail to smooth out the sheets into circular patterns. 

"are you nesting or something?" you asked, bewildered. 

with no reply, he finally settled down further up against the splayed pillows. "come." he held his arms open for you, but when you made no movement, his tail roped you in instead. you were drawn into his not-very-tight vice grip, trapped in next to him. he held you loosely around the waist with clasped hands, head placed atop your leg where he seemed to be using your side like a pillow. his horns poked into your stomach every time he nuzzled... he was really nuzzling you...

"dan heng, seriously, what’s gotten into you?" 

with only a hum, he ceased his movements and craned his head up, staring at you from behind thick lashes. his pupils were still blown wide open. you couldn’t help but find it mildly foreboding. 

"i don’t understand why you’re… so touchy. i thought you were normally allergic to contact?" 

"is it not enjoyable?" he tilted his head. his fluffy hair flopped in his face with his movement. internally, one part of you was screaming YEEEES and crushing beer cans into your forehead, while the other, larger part of you was just plain screaming. you wanted to bask in this shower of attention, but at the same time, it felt so wrong—like he wasn’t really himself. whatever dragon-brain mindfuckery was going on in his head, it was certainly potent. 

"it’s not that, i just… are you sure you’re thinking straight? or do i need to spell out the situation? because you’ve hauled me back to your bed, made a nest around me and are now cuddling me like a pillow."

dan heng blinked once, twice and then his body went rigid. he pushed himself off of you and leapt to the corner of the bed, crouched with his tail once again wound around him. "wh—what was i…?" he looked down at his hands as if they were soaked in blood. his face was flaring red with a blush. 

"you seemed rather convinced i was something like your treasure hoard for a moment," you said.

upon your words, he sank his head in his hands, and whatever noise he made in embarrassment sounded like a groaning sob. "forgive me, i don’t know what came over me…" 

"some kinda vidyadhara instinct?” it was almost like he was trying to court you. 

"something like that," he muttered from behind his hand that now covered his mouth. his gaze was fixed to a random point before him and his ears were down-turned. "i… i’ve never felt it that strong before."

"wait, you’ve felt it befo—?" right before you could finish, his tail silenced you, thwacking itself against your lips. meanwhile, he was hiding his face again. with the way his shoulders hunched, you were worried—he seemed genuinely distressed. it was a miracle he hadn’t run off somewhere by that point. with a concerned frown, you took his tail in hand and spoke again. "hey, um, this might not help whatsoever, but it was actually… rather nice when you did that." you struggled to look at him. if you called it cute like it was, you’d just be blowing whatever chance you had at keeping him in place. 

he looked over at you, ears perked up. his incredulous eyes went as wide as could be, almost like two moons. a moment passed, and the tail in your hands began to sway. "really?"

"really," you nodded. "it was just shocking to begin with, but i—if you want, you can do it again."

dan heng turned his body to face you, swallowing thickly and trying to meet your gaze. he was stuck dithering for a few moments until he ultimately crashed again, flopping forward until his face was flat on the mattress. "i can’t," he muttered, voice muffled. 

"oh, um, why?" your eyes went wide. 

he turned his face to the side, unable to make a coherent reply beyond a strained, squeaky groan. he was still burning hot with a heavy flush, but it was soon covered by his tail that draped itself over his head. "too embarrassing.” 

a small, light laugh slipped from your lips. he coiled further into himself at the sound of it, but he was soon unwound when you had your hands on him, guiding him back up next to you. he was as stiff as could be when he laid down next to you, gaze cast down the other end of the bed. you tucked a stray lock of long hair behind one of his ears. when your touch grazed past him, his pink-tipped ear twitched wildly, and he buried his face into the pillow beneath him. "why don’t you let me do something? you did say this would help you sleep, didn’t you?"

"while i was practically in a daze. i wasn’t thinking right," he complained, voice once again muffled. "this will only keep me awake, if anything." 

"maybe, we’ll see." as you spoke, you took to running your fingers through his long, silky hair. you gathered it up from behind him and brought it forward, draping it over his shoulder. your fingers glided through as though they were passing through a soft mist, fluid and sleek. before long, as you gradually let your hands drift higher until they would pass over his head, he began to decompress. stuttering, held breaths became steady and soft. his nervous-contorted face was dissipating, and his heavy blush was fading to a simple dusting of pink. 

when his eyes fell closed, you glanced up at his horn. beyond just staring at him, you were also tempting fate with how much you wanted to touch his new features. you couldn’t help it though—humans are such curious, tactile creatures, it was simply in your nature. one hand left his hair, which he barely seemed to notice, and inched its way to his horn that threatened to poke you. finally, your fingertip ghosted its surface. it was as smooth as glass, and just as cool to the touch. in fact, you could almost describe it as silky, like his scales. he twitched under your touch, eyes parting open. his pupils were blown wide open again. 

"ah, i’m sorry, i—" you began, but he soon cut you off. 

"no, keep going." he grabbed your hand and placed it back on his horn. you blinked incredulously for a moment, but soon continued as you were, running your fingertips up and down the glassy blue projections. he closed his eyes again and, making yours widen, his soft breaths were followed by a faint rumbling in his chest—a purr. he really was like a cat. 

a few moments later, you felt something long wind its way around your leg. you looked down. his tail was snaking its way up your leg, until the tip draped itself happily over your lap where it laid swishing from side to side. you fell still in shock when he shuffled his body closer to yours until he laid flush against your side. he laid one of his arms across your chest and reached for your shoulder, pulling you in just a little closer to him. 

"you stopped again." his voice was barely a whisper when he leaned his head in the crook of your neck. one of his horns was cool against the back of your neck. 

"it’s a little hard to do anything when you’re this close," you muttered back. 

"then just stay as you are." he nuzzled about with a yawn. he must have been finally settling down for sleep, but that meant using you as a body pillow. your tail-twined leg was drawn towards him, where he draped his own leg over top of it, caging it in between his calves. 

“d-dan heng…” you tried to say his name as if that would do anything, but he paid you no mind. lost in his hypnagogic trance, he only muttered sweet nothings with his lips against your shoulder.

his voice was barely audible. dragon-brain must have been in full swing, because he finished off with a quiet: “you will be mine one day, my beloved…"

you nearly exploded then and there.

i love me some emotive ears, mm yes.

[simdertalia]

🎀✨💗 ACNH Dreamy Cute Set 💗✨🎀

Sims 4, most base game compatible (Cute Bed requires City Living / Dreamy Bed requires Seasons. 37 items. Most items have extra swatches added by me 💗

I hope you enjoy!

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

LAMPS: My note for now on all lamps is that they need the brightness turned down in game for them to look normal. I have an issue in Blender with the vertex paintbrush just not working, it paints/refuses to paint wherever it wants no matter what I try. It's something I'm always looking for the answer to, and any other creator who likes any of the lamps is welcome to add vertex paint to them. I would update the file and add a credit to said creator.  BEDS: Most beds are made with the cot as the base (or other very simple bed object), it's difficult to find something to "work" with the ACNH mesh. I haven't yet 100% hashed out how to make them *perfectly* functional in TS4, but the sims will sleep on top of them.

Set Contains: Buy: -Bag Case | 7 swatches | 270 poly -Crown Decor 1 | 6 swatches | 1186 poly -Crown Decor 2 | 4 swatches | 1066 poly -Cute Bed | 7 swatches | 4734 poly -Cute Chair | 7 swatches | 1222 poly -Cute Lamp (turn brightness down) | 5 swatches | 1184 poly -Cute Loveseat | 6 swatches | 2390 poly -Cute Pillow Decor | 6 swatches | 214 poly -Cute Radio (functional) | 6 swatches | 1200 poly -Cute Sneakers Decor | 6 swatches | 800 poly -Cute Tea Table | 8 swatches | 1094 poly -Cute Tea Accent Table | 8 swatches | 1094 poly -Cute Vanity Table (accent table to allow BGC) | 7 swatches | 1140 poly -Cute Wardrobe Closet (slot on top) | 6 swatches | 1162 poly -Cute Work Bench (functional & slotted) | 7 swatches | 860 poly -Desk Lamp (turn brightness down) | 9 swatches | 374 poly -Drawings | 9 swatches | 6 poly -Dreamy Beads | 7 swatches | 1191 poly -Dreamy Beads Mid | 7 swatches | 2380 poly -Dreamy Beads Long | 7 swatches | 3569 poly -Dreamy Bed | 6 swatches | 1972 poly -Dreamy Shelf | 7 swatches | 1225 poly -Dreamy Shelf (decluttered & slotted) | 7 swatches | 60 poly -Glow Hearts Wall Decor | 16 swatches | 70 poly -Marker | 7 swatches | 64 poly -Organizer | 7 swatches | 254 poly -Saw | 10 swatches | 102 poly -Serena Doll | 1 swatch | 727 poly -Serena Doll (sitting) | 1 swatch | 659 poly -Serena Doll (functional toy) | 1 swatch | 829 poly -Toolbox | 7 swatches | 268 poly -Wall Art | 2 swatches | 40 poly

Build:Floor: Cute | 7 swatches | Linoleum & Tile Wall: Cute | 7 swatches | Paneling & Wallpaper Wall: Crown | 7 swatches | Misc & Rock & Stone Wall: Kiki Lala | 1 swatch | Wallpaper Wall: Sanrio | 2 swatches (My Melody & Hello Kitty) | Wallpaper

Type “acnh dreamy" into the search query in build mode to find  quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Happy Simming!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads: https://simfileshare.net/folder/211950/

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): https://mega.nz/folder/1g5jRKCC#h1vhhYE_6rQXjov_KZYM2Q

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on March 4th, 2024 💗

Happy Simming! ✨ If you like my work, please consider supporting me:

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Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz  @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters  @coffee-cc-finds  @itsjessicaccfinds  @gamommypeach  @stargazer-sims-finds  @khelga68  @suricringe  @vaporwavesims  @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet @satureja13 @public-ccfinds

-Dreamy Plushies Set -Heart Rug -Cloud Rug -Cat Teapot

The rest of my CC

[vintagehomecollection]

Carved table bases of volcanic stone hold a polished Absolute Black granite top. The centerpiece is an ancient Japanese stone on a carved presentation base, both from J.F. Chen Antiques. The Absolute Black granite pedestal is from JB Marble. The reproduction Roman stone urn is from Dennis & Leen. Photography by Mary E. Nichols

Designing with Tile, Stone & Brick, 1995

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Little fairy tale castle built in 1976 in Lafayette, PA was the height of style in the 70s, but it's very dated, now. IMO, the 70s were a pretty tacky period in decor. They're asking $1.16M for the 4bd, 5ba home. What do you think?

I prefer gryphons to the common lion statues.

The entrance hall is grand and has elements of English Tudor style, as well as castle. I like the way the lamps simulate torches and the ceiling with the medieval chandelier is amazing. Plus, the sweeping stairs and tile floors look good. I would want to repaint it, but it would take $ to brighten this up.

Love the iron gate to the sitting room. The home has the elements of a large castle and it's beautifully done.

The sitting room is elegant with 2 steps down to the sunken space.

Beautiful fireplace and windows, all on a smaller scale. Love the wood ceiling and chandelier, too.

Very large dining room. Nice chandelier, but no wainscoting or fireplace, plain ceiling.

This is where we get into the 70s style. The colors were orange, green and yellowish gold. So, the kitchen has the original dark cabinetry, there's the orange hood w/a royal crest over the cook top and cool orange sinks. The brown & orange tile floor ties it in.

They changed out the counters b/c they're granite. You can see the stained glass cabinet doors and decorative panels on the fridge. I think I would put one of those Knight statues in here with a tray, so he looks like a butler or something campy like that. d

Large casual dining area is nice. It has a whole wall fireplace. I actually like this space better than the formal dining room. Note the little dragons on the medieval chandelier.

Very dated and original wallpaper and lighting. You can either embrace this home, and just brighten it up a little, or renovate it.

Check out the original avocado toilet and sink.

Now up on the 2nd level, we have a rec room with window seats, on one side. By the looks of the overhead fixture, there was a pool table in here.

On this side of the rail, step down to the sunken bar area, the epitome of 70s entertaining. You've got a stone fireplace area for guests to gather, and a wet bar with the decorative panels and popular plaid wallpaper. Plus, note that there's also a stepdown to the sunken bar.

This is the door to the primary chamber.

They emptied it, but it's royal purple and spacious. There's also a small fireplace and closets with mirrors. I tried to get tinted mirror strips off my wall when I had the house- they were on the sides of a stone fireplace and would not budge. I finally covered them w/simulated stained glass.

Across a small purple hallway is the primary bath.

Variety of fixtures- funky black tub, orange sink, black toilet and bidet. It looks like everything has its own room, too.

Now, this suite has a purple theme.

Check out the 3 pc. bath. I'm colorblind when it comes to distinguishing gray and orchid. Is the sink purple?

Very large attic for lots of storage.

There's a beautiful free-form pool outside.

The grounds are very pretty.

.79 acre lot, beautifully landscaped.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4127-Presidential-Dr-Lafayette-Hill-PA-19444/10072422_zpid/

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[sorceresssundries]

Every Shade of Sunlight

This is a BG3 anniversary gift for my friend @mercymaker <3

Pairing: Astarion/Maleane (m/f) - SFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: It is the last night before the group go to face the elder brain, and Maleane takes Astarion to watch the sunset for possibly the final time.

"Darling, as much as I appreciate a little rough and tumble down a dirty alley, you’ve been dragging me through the city for quite a while now. Is there a specific dirty alley you had in mind? Or, did you just get sick of camp? Not that I blame you, my sweet. Gale has been particularly irritating this evening.” 

“Perhaps he's just trying to squeeze out as many words as possible in our last few hours together?” Maleane replied, her eyes scanning the shadows diligently.

Astarion sighed. “Sometimes, I’m glad he hasn’t decided to blow himself up. Other times, I regret not persuading him to do it sooner. He is frightfully repetitive.”

Maleane rolled her eyes, and could feel her lover’s greedy gaze on her as she strolled through the hidden alley which ran through the bowels of Grey Harbour. She was trying very hard not to be distracted; she had a careful, precise, time-sensitive plan. If Astarion didn’t stop brushing his hand over hers or making suggestive comments, she would definitely end up fucking him in a dirty alley. That wasn’t what she had planned... at least not right now.

“Aha!” She turned to him with a grin and pointed to a dank, well-hidden ladder that looked so rotted one step might turn it to mulch.

He looked highly unimpressed. “Unless that ladder leads to a cultist to kill and a heavy treasure chest to break into, I think I’ll stay down here.” he sneered.

“It leads somewhere much better than that. Trust me.”

He raised an eyebrow, sceptical. “Better than murder and treasure? This sounds like a trap.”

She grabbed the ladder with confidence despite its decrepit appearance. “You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

With a wary glance, Astarion followed her up the ladder, his usual swagger slightly tempered with caution. 

At the top, Maleane clambered onto a ledge and over a small railing to a tucked-away rooftop. The last light of the day bathed the space in a warm, golden glow, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the air. The rooftop was modest, nowhere near as spacious as Alfira and Lakrissa’s haven atop the Elfsong. This one was dingy, with weathered stone tiles underfoot and the faint remnants of old paint on the wall of the larger building that towered next to them. However, Maleane had done her best to breathe a little life into it.

A variety of plants, from hardy ferns to flowering vines, were strategically placed around the space, creating pockets of greenery and bursts of colour. Comfortable cushions, covered in bright but slightly faded fabrics, were scattered about, arranged on a couple of old wooden crates repurposed as makeshift seating. In one corner, a small wrought-iron table, a bit rusty but still sturdy, held a collection of candles in different shapes and sizes and a bottle of expensive wine

“This… this is unexpected.” Astarion turned to her, surprised.

“Don’t get too moony-eyed,” she teased. “I stole it all.”

“Well, then I'm even more impressed.”

“Come on. Sit.” Maleane gestured towards the makeshift bench while she poured out a glass of wine for them. 

Together they sat, and spoke, and sipped their wine. Maleane resting her head on her lover’s shoulder as they watched the sun set on their final day with parasites in their heads. Tomorrow, one way or another, Astarion would no longer be able to bask in the light he had become accustomed to. It pained her. 

The view from the rooftop was nothing short of spectacular. The Chionthar stretched out below, glowing with shades of gold and crimson. The sounds of the bustling city were muted, a low background hum—ambient sounds for the two lovers on a rooftop in the city they were trying to save. 

“As delightful as your company is, it feels like you’ve brought me here for a reason, my love. Or are you just feeling sentimental?”

“Show a little patience, you’ll see.”

“Darling, I was a slave for almost two hundred years. Patience is the only thing I've ever had.”

She nudged him with her elbow, and nodded her head back towards the sunset. “Watch.”

He sighed dramatically, then quieted, watching as the sun he loved almost as much as her began to sink below the horizon. The shimmer of yellow, soft and tired after a long day, was slowly being dragged away. Astarion stared at it with barely concealed longing, all his usual bluster and facade dropped. He observed the sunset the way one would watch their lover walk out the door for the final time.

Maleane, however, only watched him as light muted and the shadow of dusk fell over his face, turning his eyes from shining scarlet to a deeper maroon—so much deeper they could almost be mistaken for brown. His skin looked less pale, his fangs hidden beneath the straight line of his lips. He looked the way she imagined he did when he was alive.

She often wondered what he was like in those days, when he was young and human and fragile. Did he ever steal bottles of wine and sneak away to hidden rooftops in the city he lived and loved in? What did he look like, smell like, sound like? Maybe his words used to sound different slipping off a tongue that wasn’t silken and practiced. Perhaps his vowels were rounder, his accent softer, uncut by the sharp points of his teeth. 

Maybe he was an entirely different person, or perhaps he was exactly the same. Maleane would never know, and Astarion would never remember.

She grieved for the person he was before, loved him for who he was in this moment, and steeled herself to protect the person he would become. No one stayed the same; everyone was as changing as the seasons, and contained as many colours and streaks as the sunburst sky. Her heart ached as he mourned the death of the day, the final one he would possibly ever see. Then, his expression shifted. He looked confused.

Maleane smiled and tore her gaze from him to follow where his eyes were fixed.

Right there, in the day’s final moments, when only the very top of the sun was visible - it turned green. Just for a few magical, unexplainable moments, a vibrant, clear flash of the brightest emerald. And then, it was gone.

“Did you see that?” His disbelief reminded her of a child watching snow fall for the first time.

Maleane hummed in contentment and put her hand over his. “Sometimes, when the sky is clear and the weather is right, just in the final moments before the sun disappears - it turns green.”

“Why?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know, I'm sure there’s some long, boring explanation that Gale could tell us about. It’s supposed to be a sign of luck, a good omen.”

“How did you know it would happen?”

“I didn’t. I hoped.” She sighed as his cool thumb brushed over her knuckles. “I used to watch out for it when I was a child. Most people don’t even see it. They sit under the sun every day and never know all its colours. Lives are lived and days are long and no one stops to see the sun turn green.” His eyes are fixed upon her now, the sun long forgotten. “I wanted to show you every shade of sunlight. Gods knows how long it will be before you see it again.”

“If I ever do.” His voice was weaker than she had ever heard it. 

“You will.” Hers was made of iron.

They sat there for a while, the two of them, as the orange and purples and reds of the sunset stained sky melted away into inky blue. The light followed the sun below the line of the horizon, where it sat and patiently waited for tomorrow. Who knows what it would cast itself over the next time it appeared. 

Dawn could clutch at the burnt-out corpse of Baldur’s Gate in the morning like a grief-wrecked parent, and wake the birds to sing songs of sorrow. Or… it could raise its arms in celebration, light up the homes of the saved and slip through the stained glass of still-standing temples and cast colour across stone floors. Shimmering through the tears of grateful worshippers which would stain the feet of the Gods, making their worship look like diamonds.

The Gods didn’t deserve their tears. It would not be the Gods that saved them, Maleane thought bitterly. It would be up to her small group of misfits and outcasts. The chosen and the cast-aside. The faithless and the faithful. The tortured vampire and the lost girl from the woods.

No-one would thank Astarion. The gratitude of the morning sun would not reach him. He would slink, shadowed and unrewarded, once again back into the darkness. He would not be alone though, Maleane would make sure of that. 

“Have you ever been up here before?” Maleane asked, It was strange to imagine Astarion as a young man. Just one of the people she had seen settled and happy in the routine of their day in the city. It was a heartbreak to think about how she was so grateful to have found him, and yet the only reason he was in her life was because he had been killed, dragged back from death, and mistreated so poorly.

“Who knows darling.” He sighed. “I don’t remember much, only blurred faces and whispered names. I distanced myself too much to remember particular details. I don’t even know who I was, let alone where I've been.”

He took a long sip of his wine and became lost in clouded thoughts. 

“I’ve been a victim, and I've been a monster, and, ridiculously, some kind of hero. I don’t know who I really am, or which one I'll be when all this is over and I have to deal with normality” He pulled a face as though he'd just bitten something sour. 

“All of them.” She said, simply.  “You’re a person.” She touched his face, cool and perfect. Brushes her fingers down and along the chest that has no rise and fall to it. “Full of burnt orange, and flashes of scarlet, and a yellow so blinding it could be pure white. And also, in rare little moments right before darkness - flashes of green.”

“You’re very sweet.” He lifted her hand to kiss it  “Nothing at all like the angry little forest sprite I first pressed my blade to.” He teased, and flashed his pointy teeth in a genuine smile. 

“What can I say, turns out the threat of ceremorphosis, being thrown into a group of strangers, lifting curses, slaying dragons and becoming the partner of a vampire will change a girl.”

He gifted her with some of his sparkling laughter, a sound so sweet and imperfect a monster would never be able to make it. “Partner,” he said, clinking her wine glass with his own. “I like that.”

Their last peaceful moment was abruptly shattered by another shuddering quake from the elder brain, barely contained and thrumming with anxious, threatened energy, awaiting their arrival. 

“This was wonderful while it lasted, darling,” he sighed, rising and extending his hand to her. “But I guess nothing lasts forever.”

She gazed at him, pale and ethereal, bathed in fresh moonlight.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Maleane replied, as her fingers entwined with his. “Let’s wait and see.”

He kissed her then, beneath the warm blanket of dusk, with the fervour of a man gasping for air, for life, for her. She knew that no matter what came next, even if it meant centuries in the shadows, she would stay by his side.

She would be his light, his mirror, and the home he could always return to.

“Please don’t kiss me like it’s our last night,” she murmured softly, a trace of anxiety creeping in for the uncertain hours ahead.

He smiled against her lips. “My love, I’m kissing you like it’s our first.”

[stinkywritin]

Late Night Devil

Lee Heeseung x male reader

Short synopsis: You catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure and your life’s forever changed…

…a nice way of saying gay vampire Heeseung brain rot

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, essentially PWP, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), top!Heeseung, bottom!male reader, oral (reader receiving), biting kink, praise kink, FILTH IM SORRY

Title from song Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

(a reupload a my favorite fic from my old blog)

You felt eyes on you ever since you arrived at the party.

Ever since you walked through the front doors with your mother and father, you felt as though you were being watched. No matter how many times you turned around and checked, there wasn’t anyone looking.

Not until you got to the banquet hall.

Everything was draped in luxurious red cloth, the high ceilings connected to a glass dome which allowed the guests a full view of the starry night sky. The tables adorned with the finest tablecloths and expensive tableware you felt nervous picking up for fear of breaking it, the near overwhelming amount of candlelight contrasting the darkness of the night. The dark wooden chairs complimented the equally as dark tables, the ballroom devoid of all color except for the hints of burgundy.

You continued to feel watched over even as you slid down onto one of the chairs next to your mother, your black coat draped over the back of the chair as you fiddled with the silver rings on your hand. One of the rings on your finger was etched with your family crest, handed down from your father once you became of adult age and joined your father’s oil business. Light organ notes danced in the air as the chatter amongst guests grew louder, more families arriving and filling up the tables.

“Sit up straight Y/N!” Your mother scorned you, her previous lecture of maintaining the family image still ringing in your ears. Her voice sounded strained through the tight corset, you were pretty sure her internal organs were all smushed together. A tight lipped smile stretched on her face as she looked around the banquet hall, many other families and members of higher society. Politicians, heirs to fortunes, royal family members, everyone who had more money than they knew what to do with.

Through your father’s business, your family was ranked fairly high on the social status, no where near the level of royalty but definitely a name with notoriety. You being the eldest son meant you’re the child who received the burden of continuing you family’s legacy, expected to not only further your business’s success but to also hand it down to another son. Either this or marry into an even richer family but you were never interested in any of the female suitors your father brought to you, denying any advance before retreating into your studies.

Your father suddenly beckoned you to his side across the hall, champagne glass in hand along with the most manufactured smile while speaking to other men with the same expressions. Your face was devoid of any emotion as you walked to join his side, the light tapping of your shoes on the banquet hall tile was drowned out by the band in the corner.

It’s not that you didn’t like your father, quite frankly you didn’t know enough about him in order to form a sold opinion about him. You’d seen his multimillion dollar company run so many small villages into the ground, clearing out acres of land for hopes of even drilling a single drop of oil. You heard the protests of the people in your country, pleading for companies to stop their mindless destruction of land but like all the other companies, your father didn’t listen. You had no intention of continuing the family business, hoping that maybe one of your siblings would take it over or that you could personally destroy it from the inside out. Plans to escape the damned family business flooded your mind as you stood next to your father, stone faced as he bragged to a distant colleague about whatever bullshit rich old men brag about.

It was during a conversation about coal plants that you saw him for the first time.

Your eyes mindlessly moved along the grand staircase, up along the marbled railing of the balcony, before spotting him alone with his hands folded along the railing. Eyes instantly meeting yours.

His skin was perfectly smoothed and sculpted, his appearance statuesque as he held strong eye contact with you. The darkness in his eyes matched the slant in his grin, a devious smirk was on his lips as his eyes raked you in, seemingly drawing you closer to him. The dark strands on his head complimented the dark velvet coat on his shoulders, the ruffles of his white shirt peaking forward elegantly.

“Y/N what do you think?” Your father’s voice interrupted your speechless encounter with the brunette, ripping your eyes from the beauty before you to bring you back to Earth. Dante himself wouldn’t be able to fully capture the beauty of the man you laid your eyes on, his descriptions of heaven coming second to the allure of the man who captured your attention.

“Sorry come again?” You replied haphazardly, already tuning out the conversation before you look back up to the gorgeous creature from before. Only in the mere seconds you looked away, he had vanished. Your bewildered eyes searched all over the balcony for him, refusing to believe he was a figment of your imagination.

“Sorry gentlemen please excuse me one moment” you politely moved away from the men, leaving behind a group of insulted men and your angry father. Your heart rate picked up as you began your search for the man from earlier, refusing to let him leave your life as quickly as he had entered.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallways of the palace, the tiled floor ways leading to multiple different rooms. You came across a portrait in a hallway far from the banquet hall, the frame picturing a family with an only child. A son whose eyes seemed to bore into your sole, the faces of the parents had been scratched out, the colors worn pale from age.

“Such a shame isn’t it?” A rich, melancholic voice startled you from your spot before the portrait, the handsome stranger from before suddenly appearing behind you. You hadn’t heard his footsteps, nor any other indication he was near you. “The colors were much more divine when the portrait was freshly made.”

“When was it painted?” You asked the stranger, his smile was playful as his eyes shifted from you to the painting.

His hands were folded behind his lower back as he spoke up, “I stopped counting after the third century.”

Well fuck. Even though everything about that response screamed ‘don’t come near me I’m dangerous,’ something about the way his eyes flatly observed the portrait before you pulled you in for more.

“Do you know the family?” You asked, your voice wavering as you continued to take in his appearance. The man before you seemed to have discarded his coat, the silk of his white shirt now on full display. There wasn’t a single wrinkle, every fold was pressed neatly on his body. If elegance was a person it truly would be him.

“Do you always stutter when asking questions?” His eyes quickly turned to make eye contact with you, a playful slant adorned his lips at his teasing. You couldn’t help the rush of heat to your face, hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your face but judging by how his smile grew, it was evident he saw it.

“I guess only when I’m talking to pretty people” you shrugged, your eyes traveling away from his to study the portrait once again. The scratch marks on the faces of the parents tore through the canvas, making it obvious someone took a knife to the portrait. Although the colors were muted, you didn’t doubt that the robes and silks worn by the parents were more expensive than your father’s entire company. Then there was the little boy. He looked no more than 6 years of age, cheeks puffed and eyes full of childlike wonder, his face was the only one still remaining on the portrait.

“You can do better than juvenile pick up lines” the man scoffed, your eyes snapping back to him just in time to see him stifle a laugh. “This isn’t a school courtyard.”

You let out a chuckle, already cringing on your cheesy one liner. “I apologize for that sir but I don’t apologize for the pretty laugh it let me hear from you.” Now it was his turn to blush.

It was the chiming of the bells from the clock tower that erased the relaxed feeling between you two.

“Excuse me sir L/N but I’m afraid that’s my queue to leave.” As he started to turn on his heal away from you, a tight feeling within you snapped and you reached out to grab his wrist. Immediately you felt his ice cold skin on your hand, his face contorted in shock as he looked back to you. “What are you-“

“How did you know my last name?” You interrupt him, his furrowed brows softening on his face.

“Seeing as how I made the guest list I’m well acquainted with your family Y/N” his cheeky grin was back, his wrist still in your grasp. You relaxed your hold to let him escape but instead he took another step closer towards you.

“You’re part of the Lee family?” You questioned, even if you already knew the answer. The Lee family was one of the wealthiest royal families in the country, owning a luxurious castle away from all the surrounding villages. Your father said they were weird and antisocial but seeing as how they donated to many charities and political campaigns in the villages, they were immensely powerful. No one from the Lee family held any political or government position in centuries but that didn’t mean they weren’t pulling the strings from afar.

“And you still don’t seem to know my name?” His spunky grin broke you from your deep thoughts. You were face to face with a member of one of the most powerful families in the country, your father’s complaints of their wealth ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I just didn’t think I’d ever meet someone from your family.” You honestly stated, barely noticing just how close he was to you. Your noses were mere inches apart, a strong enough breeze would’ve been able to bring you two together

“Heeseung.” His voice was slightly above a whisper before he continued, “my name is Lee Heeseung.”

Before your brain could talk you out of it, you took his hand in yours before bringing the back of his palm up to your mouth. You have a slight bow as you pressed a feather like kiss to his ice cold skin, you knew he still had that damn smirk on his face even if your eyes were closed. “It’s an honor to meet you Heeseung, I’m F/N L/N of the L/N family.”

“I’m aware” he snatched his hand back, although the grin was still plastered on his face. “This is my home after all.”

Before turning around to leave, he added “Meet me back here at midnight.” It wasn’t a question, more of an order, but you wouldn’t have refused either way.

“I’ll be waiting.” You gave one more curt bow, at which he scoffed and walked away from you. You noticed he wasn’t walking back in the direction of the banquet hall, in fact he was going in the opposite direction.

You turned back towards the portrait before you and as you looked at the boy in the painting again you felt a heavy weight in the pit of your chest. You could suddenly recognize the boy being Heeseung, a smiling young Heeseung. And suddenly the remark of the painting being more than three centuries old made that weight in your chest even heavier.

——

True to your word you returned to your unofficial meeting spot.

It was a pain in the ass trying to shake off your parent’s prying eyes and overwhelming amount of questions. You hid the fact that you had met — and flirted — with Lee Heeseung from both of your parents, you knew they would demand that you introduced them to him so you made up a lie about getting lost trying to find a bathroom. Seeing your parents fake smiles and having to endure a terrible sales pitch from your father was a special kind of hell that you didn’t want Heeseung to experience. Thankfully they believed your lie and didn’t press any further, leaving you alone for the rest of the evening.

It was a little before midnight, right when you were about to leave to see Heeseung again, that you spoke to your mother. You told her you would stay behind for a little while longer and that they should leave without you, that you’d call a cab later and meet them back at the house. She seemed hesitant to leave you, wanting to know why you would be staying behind but in the end she hesitantly left with your father.

“Just promise you’ll be back in the morning?” She pleaded, cradling your face in the palms of her hands. “Or at least call me in the morning to let me know you’re still alive?”

“Yes mother don’t worry I’ll let you know everything” you offered her a wide grin as she pulled back, the clicks of her heels hitting the tiled floor growing quieter. Once she had gotten in the car with your father, you turned and quickly walked back to the hallway from earlier that evening.

—-

The corridors were empty, only the sound of your hurried footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls. The painting was still just as magnificent as it was earlier in the evening, except as you footsteps took you close to it, you could feel that familiar weight in your chest again. The breaths picked up as you eyed the portrait again, this time feeling as though it was pulling you in.

“You came back” the same honey voice startled you, Heeseung suddenly appearing next to you. He grinned at your attempts to catch your breath, your eyes still wide from the scare he gave you.

“Of course” you huffed out, composing yourself by straightening your back to look him in the eye. “I had some questions.”

Heeseung quirked his head to the side while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the smile still plastered in his face. “Questions?” He paused, you gave a shaky nod in reply. “Alright well, ask away.”

“Is that you?” You pointed to the little boy in the portrait, his goddamn grin was making it ten times harder for you to focus on trying to make sense of him.

“Yes that’s me.” Heeseung flatly responded, his eyes traveling to look at the portrait. “I think that was my sixth birthday if I can recall correctly.”

“And you said this was made over three centuries ago correct?” Your voice was wavering, your whole body feeling heavy with anxiety and dread. “How old are you?”

“Y/N don’t you know it’s considered rude to ask someone their age when you first meet?” Heeseung’s met with yours again, seemingly able to bore holes into your brain. As if he could sense the panic coursing through your veins, he sighed before answering “I can’t remember how old I am or how many years are passing by, they all seem to blur together and over time I found it’s easier to not count my age anymore.”

Heeseung’s entire demeanor changed; he was no longer carrying himself with a high level of confidence, instead of the usual cockiness there was a melancholic tone to his voice as he longingly stared at the portrait.

He continued, “I was normal just like you, just human. Until at age 20 I was turned into this by my lover. He turned me into this so that we could be together for all of eternity but shortly after I turned he was killed by some hunters from a village up north. I was 20, a freshly turned vampire and completely estranged by my family for choosing a male lover.” He clutched something in his hand, turning it over before he took a seat on the tiled floor. His back was pressed against the dark walls as he beckoned you to sit next to him.

Once you were sat next to him, your hands making contact with the cold tiles of the floor as your back rested against the wall, you could see a small locket in his hands. The metal was scuffed and old, showing signs of years of use.

“This family,” Heeseung continued. “It’s made up of vampires from all over the country who are just like me. No family to turn to, no friends and partners to depend on, nothing. The Lee family took me in, no questions asked and I’ve been here since. And while the banquets and parties have been quite distracting, I still haven’t been able to find anyone to grow closer to, not since I died and became this.”

A fresh tear had escaped from Heeseung’s eye, it traveled down his cheek until hitting the floor, the man not bothering to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry Heeseung” you shakily whispered, hoping your voice was loud enough to be heard by the vampire next to you. The weight you had felt in your chest earlier — the intense panic over what creature Heeseung was and whether or not he was dangerous — had started dissipating at his words. Not entirely however, and it seemed Heeseung could still sense the remaining anxieties.

“Don’t apologize I haven’t even answered your question yet,” Heeseung wiped the remains of his tears off of his cheek while letting out a small — forced — chuckle. You were forced to go to banquets and business meetings and a bunch of other gatherings of snobby rich people, you were used to fake smiles and even faker laughs; however Heeseung’s was the most heartbreaking of all.

“As for age all I can say for sure is that I’ve been a vampire for a little over 400 years,” Heesung’s fingers messed with the locket in his hand as he spoke. “Anything else you’d like to ask Mr. L/N”

Heeseung had cocked his head to look at you, his eyes instantly letting yours. Sitting beside you was a supposed ‘creature of the undead’, something that up until recently you believed to be fake and the material for fiction. And yet the way Heeseung’s smile seemed to fill your being with bliss was anything but fiction, the way he had drawn you in even if you had only met that evening was a beautiful reality.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t still have questions.

“If you say you ran away to join this family how did you get that painting?” The teasing in your tone evoked a surprised laugh from Heeseung, the atmosphere surrounding you two had lightened, no longer full of worry.

“I’ve been alive longer than your great grandparents don’t question how I get stuff brat” Heeseung playfully pinched your shoulder, sending you two into a lighthearted scuffle that ended with Heeseung’s thighs straddling your lower torso.

“Ok I yield!” You huffed out between fits of laughter. As your chest rose and fell from your attempts to catch your breath, you could suddenly feel how close Heesung was. His hands held your wrists to the floor, his upper body draped over yours. “Okay one last question.”

“Ugh enough with the questions!” Heeseung chuckled out. After seeing the pleading look in your eyes he nodded his head, telling you it was okay to ask what was on your mind.

“Why did you ask me to come back here at midnight?” You asked, the underlying tone of your question being ‘are you going to kill me because I would please like to know in advance’.

“Is my interest in you not obvious enough?” Heeseung softly replied, grin widening when he sees the blush rise to your face. The hands that were on your wrists were now interlocking with yours, his hands delicately squeezing yours as he rested his forehead atop yours. “And here I was thinking you were also interested.”

“I am!” You helped out, causing a fit of giggles to erupt from Heeseung at your eagerness.

Heeseung’s hands were still interlocked with yours as he calmed down, his face still so close to yours. The way his eyes were sparkling with joy made the weight dissipate completely. Heeseung’s faced leaned impossibly closer to yours, his lips mere centimeters away from yours. “You’re so gorgeous the second I saw you I knew I had to talk to you. I knew I would miss the rest of the banquet because I had some business to take care of with another town’s mayor. Corrupt politicians and what not, such a pain to clean blood stains on carpets by the way.” Heeseung rolled his eyes at his comment, you could feel your heart rate pick up at the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips.

“But I knew I had to see you again which is why I asked you to meet me here.” You felt your dick twitch at his words, the smirk playing on his lips was evidence he felt it too.

He started to slowly — so achingly slowly — roll his hips over your bulge. “The entire job I pleaded with the universe to let me see you again, all I could think about was how gorgeous you are Y/N.”

“Heeseung” you panted out, the fabric around your cock getting tighter. “Please kiss me.”

“Absolutely my love” Heeseung’s lips slotted perfectly with yours, your body heat felt as though it rose an extra 30 degrees. The way his lips fit with yours felt like an explosion of pure bliss, immediately opening your mouth to let his tongue in. The way Heeseung kissed you as if he was planning on devouring you made your head spin.

It could’ve been 30 seconds or 3 years but the kiss felt of pure heaven. No amount of time would ever be enough to fully satisfy the need you felt for each other, you thought this as Heeseung’s hip rolls began getting faster. After a particularly loud moan escaped your lips, Heeseung murmured into your ear, “Let me take you to bed my beauty.”

You eagerly nodded as he lifted you both up on your feet, leading you to his bedroom door while having his hand interlaced with yours. You two couldn’t help the giggles or the chaste kisses while you ran to his room.

—-

“Lie on your back for me sweetheart” Heeseung’s voice has seemed to drop a few octaves, sounding huskier as he pushed you back onto his silk sheets and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

You quickly undid the laces of your boots, chucking them across the room before fumbling with the buttons on your shirt. You huffed in annoyance as you had difficulty getting your shirt off, Heeseung — who was now shirtless — took notice of your frustration and let out a low chuckle. His hands clasped yours as he placed them on you, slowly moving your hands down onto the bed before eagerly grabbing the collar of your blouse and tearing the fabric open. You gasped at the sound of the fabric ripping but quickly began to let out a deep groan as Heeseung began placing soft kisses down your chest. His lips were ice cold, making goosebumps rise all over your body from the drastic shift in temperature.

“There’s no time for slowly unbuttoning clothing” Heesung whispered into the skin on your sternum. His eyes switched back up to meet yours, the look of pure lust painting his eyes, “I want you now.”

“Then take me.” You gasped as Heeseung pushed your upper body down onto his bed, grabbing your hips and quickly pulling down your trousers and underwear, leaving you bare under him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you to bring him into another heated kiss. You felt the fabric of his pants on your cock as he began to grind his clothed bulge onto yours. The friction causing you to bite at his lower lip, your fingernails scratching onto the skin on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to graze over your bulge, the cold skin causing a shiver to run up your spine.

Heeseung continued to kiss and bite at the skin on your jawline as he wrapped a hand around your cock, giving it a harsh but arousing tug. “Knew you would sound heavenly darling” Heeseung said into your ear, the strokes of his hand becoming more even. “Knew it the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Heeseung-“ you were cut off by your own whine as Heesung sharply removed his hand to slap your thigh.

“That’s hyung to you brat” Heeseung gave your thigh another harsh smack before bringing two fingers up to your lips. The pads of his icy fingertips grazing along your lower lip so slightly you could barely feel it. “Now open up.”

You opened your mouth to let his fingers dance along your tongue, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sighing. Heeseung’s eyes were fixated on the sight of you sucking on his fingers, his cock growing harder. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth before sliding them over your tight hole, inserting one finger in as you gasped in surprise. His fingers were still so, so cold, causing you to shiver again.

He slowly worked his finger in and out of your hole, teasing his second one before pushing them both in and stretching you open. As his fingers worked to stretch you open, Heeseung licked a stripe from your thigh to the base of your cock. You let out a loud yelp as he licked up the length of your cock, your hands flying to yank at the dark locks on his head. “Oh hyung that feels so good” you moaned out, your eyes squeezing shut from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that were washing over your body.

His fingers quickened their pace as Heeseung’s dark eyes looked up at you, he whispered with the head of your cock pressed against his bottom lip, “cum in my mouth gorgeous.” Heeseung’s mouth took you in, warmth engulfing your entire body as you cried out in pleasure. You could feel the pleasure overcoming you, making your brain foggy as all your senses were being overwhelmed.

All of a sudden the coil in you snapped, you came down his throat as he eagerly swallowed every drop you let out. Even as you came down from the intense feeling, his fingers were still working you open — albeit at a slower pace. When his fingers grazed your prostate you shivered while your thighs began to shake, throwing Heeseung a confused gaze.

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” His smirk causing your thoughts to muddle, he abruptly removed his fingers before smacking your thigh again. “Sit up now darling I haven’t gotten my fix yet.”

He laid back against the dark wood of his bedpost, a pillow separating his lower back from the wood. He removed his pants and underwear before turning to you and patting his thigh, beckoning you over. You let out a small chuckle, your post orgasm brain somehow finding the cheesiness of it all a little amusing.

Heeseung tilted his head in confusion as you crawled over, placing his hands on your hips before saying, “why are you laughing, darling?” He pulled you down to sit on his lower torso, his cock nestled between your cheeks which caused the blush on your face to deepen in slight embarrassment.

“You’re so cute” you placed an innocent peck on his lips, Heeseung gave you what felt like a hundred more as a response. He held you close as the grin on his face grew larger, both of your giggles breaking the kisses. As you both calmed down from your giggling fit, the eye contact you held began intensifying. Heeseung’s eyes seemed to hold all the stars in the night sky with the way they sparkled up at you, the light blush on his face deepening as you held him close.

His hand ran through the hair on the nape of your neck, his wide eyes and large grin seemed to distract you from the fact that you were both completely bare. His finger started to drag from the bottom of your ear down the slope of your neck before whispering, “Can I bite you darling?”

You could feel your soft length grow interested at his question, your eyes widened as they filled with curiosity. “You want to turn me?” Your question made the vampire look up at you, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“I don’t have to turn you.” Heeseung started, his cold hands tightening their grip on your skin. “I can feed from you and as long as I don’t take too much you’ll still be alive and, well, human.”

When the word ‘feeding’ fell from the man’s lips, you suddenly remembered the man — the vampire — below you could very easily kill you in two ways; by either draining all the blood from your body or turning you into an undead creature for the rest of eternity.

“I’ve been alive a long time Y/N” Heeseung’s voice bringing you back to the present. He continued, “I can control my appetite, I will not take more than you can handle and I will stop if you tell me to. You have my word darling.”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you tilt your head to the side to give him full access to your neck and collarbones and nodded. Heeseung’s hands roughly pulled your hips up, aligning his length with your entrance before pulling you back down to sit on his lap. Your body shivered at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, the head of Heeseung’s cock was pressing against your g spot, leaving you full.

As you tried moving your hips, Heeseung would stop your movements to slam you back down onto his lap. His hands moved from your hips further down to hold your ass, his tongue licking over a spot on the crook of your neck. Your neglected length had been interested even after already orgasming once, however all pleasure before this failed in comparison to the feeling of Heeseung’s fangs piercing into your skin. His hips moved achingly slowly as he sunk his teeth into your neck, your grip on him tightening. Even if you had only met Heeseung that night you already knew he had ruined sex with anyone else in the future, it would be only him for the rest of your existence.

Heeseung’s hips kept a slow pace, his soft groan was muffled while he fed from your neck. The intense pleasure coming from Heeseung’s movements juxtaposed the sharp pain on your neck, your post orgasm brain becoming even muddier. You felt Heeseung remove his fangs from your neck, placing kisses on the marks left behind while his hips picked up a faster pace. The sounds of your bodies moving together echoed throughout the room, your pants being interrupted by Heeseung’s voice in your ear giving you encouragements.

“There you go, that’s my good boy.”

“Knew I had to have you the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Darling you tasted so good, did so well for me.”

“Be as loud as you can for me Y/N, don’t hold back.”

The familiar sensation from earlier came back, this time magnified by ten. You could feel your muscles tightening as you reached your climax, your grip on Heeseung’s shoulders becoming more tense.

“Hyung I’m close,” you whined out. His thrusts were precise and fast, aiming and nailing your g spot head on every time.

“How cute,” Heeseung’s low voice went straight to your hard cock, his hand wrapping around your length and stroking in tandem with his hips. He continued, “My good boy wants to cum for me a second time. Make a mess for me sweet boy, I’m right there with you.”

You reached a moment of euphoria, your entire body tightening up before you came all over Heeseung’s hand. You felt Heeseung reach his high because his thrusts stilled, his grip on your body tightened before he went slack. Your body slumped into his as you now began trying to catch your breath. You heard Heeseung let out a giggle as he held up your tired body.

“Nope you’re not getting off that easy.” Heeseung quickly flipped you onto your back below him, the speed shaking you awake. His body was bent over yours, he brought one of his hands up to your mouth and put his palm to your lips. It was the palm that was covered in your release, “lick it off baby, you’re helping me clean up.”

You quickly licked your release off his hand, holding eye contact with him the entire time so you could see his proud smirk. His lips graced yours once you finished, your entire body slugging back into the sheets below you. “I’ll be right back baby.”

Your eyelids felt heavy while you watched him get off his bed, making his way across the room while nude which gave you a shameless view of his body.

He returned momentarily with some bandaids, along with a glass of water. “Sit up for me darling,” he said as he sat down next to you, putting the glass of water into your hands once you were up right. You lazily drank from the cup as Heeseung applied the bandaids to the wounds on your neck. “It’s not too bad but better safe than sorry.”

It seemed the vampire’s entire demeanor had changed, his touches soft on your skin as he took your now empty cup and placed it elsewhere. He laid back next to you, pulling the covers over your bodies before pulling you closer to him. “How do you have so much energy?” You grumbled, looking up at the vampire to see his bright smile.

“I don’t get tired,” Heeseung’s hand carded through your hair and scratched your scalp as he started talking, making it very difficult to stay awake. He continued, “It’s that vampire stamina, I don’t need sleep or rest. I don’t eat food either, well besides blood but it doesn’t have to be human. I physically can sleep, I just don’t need it to function so it’s basically just a nap.”

“Does that mean you can go another round?” Your hand had been lazily tracing patterns onto the vampire’s cold skin, slowly moving down his torso. Your body was still sluggish from your two orgasms but seeing the devious glint in Heeseung’s eyes was lighting a flame to your body.

“I don’t think you can keep up with me baby” Heeseung roughly pulled the (H/C) strands on the back of your head, pulling you up to make direct eye contact with him. “But if you insist.”

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, the feeling of his fangs eliciting a high pitched whine from the back of your throat; you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

Authors Note: Hey it’s V sorry about deleting my old blog but I’ll bring back a majority of my old fics. If you enjoyed, thank you very much !!! These are v fun to make and help me take my mind off real life stuff lmao. That’s it for now, brb folks -V

[girlkisser13]

zeus cabin headcanons

children of zeus

• over time, they develop lightning scars on their body from the sheer amount of electricity that passes through them whenever they summon lightning.

• the mortals call these "stretch marks".

• they have a hard time holding their breath for longer than a minute due to their father’s air-based nature.

• eventually, someone sets up a tent inside to make it feel less empty and uncomfortable.

• they have an intrinsic understanding of the law wherever they are and could pass a bar exam with no preparation.

• they can play electric guitars and basses without using an amp.

• they give off little shocks when they're happy.

• they have a natural charisma that draws others to them, coupled with an authoritative aura that commands respect.

• they are immune to static electricity.

• their personalities are intense, mirroring their father’s own mood swings. they are passionate and driven, but are also prone to sudden bursts of anger if things don't go their way.

• when chiron decided that the electricity bill was getting too expensive, he had the hephaestus cabin set up underground wires so they could extract electricity from their cabin.

• due to their strong personalities, they have a complex relationship with authority figures, sometimes clashing with them or struggling to fit into conventional roles.

• they’re extremely impulsive and quick to act, especially when they sense injustice or danger. their actions are often driven by a strong sense of urgency.

• a lot of them grow up to become pilots or meteorologists.

• the statue of zeus is constantly covered with blankets to prevent anyone from seeing his "hippie" face glaring down at them.

• they can move lightning-fast over short distances, becoming electricity in the process.

cabin exterior

• the cabin resembles a large, imposing greek temple. it is made of solid white marble, giving it a regal and timeless appearance. the building has a rectangular shape with a peaked roof, and it's elevated slightly above the ground, with steps leading up to the entrance, similar to ancient greek temples.

• the front of the cabin is lined with impressive, thick columns that support a triangular pediment. these columns are doric in style, which are simple yet strong, symbolizing zeus's power and authority.

• the triangular pediment above the entrance often has carvings depicting scenes associated with zeus. these include lightning bolts, eagles, and scenes of zeus sitting on his throne. the frieze running along the top of the cabin is decorated with intricate designs of mythological scenes involving zeus.

• the roof is tiled with golden shingles that catch the light, making the cabin gleam and stand out, even from a distance. it has a weather vane shaped like a lightning bolt at the top.

cabin interior

• the doorway of the their cabin is grand and imposing, with a large wooden door inlaid with lightning bolt designs. it has a high, arched entrance that makes every camper feel small as they walk in.

• the ceiling is a high dome with a large skylight in the center. the skylight is magically enchanted to always show the sky outside, whether it's day or night. during thunderstorms, the skylight shows the storm directly above, with lightning occasionally flashing across it.

• lightning bolt patterns are carved into the walls and furniture. the bedposts, chairs, and even the table have intricate designs that resemble streaks of lightning. these designs occasionally glow with a faint blue or gold light, especially during storms.

• the interior is primarily made of white marble and stone, giving the cabin a clean, powerful, and timeless feel. the floors are polished marble, and the walls have stone columns reminiscent of ancient greek temples.

• the cabin is never completely silent. there is a low, almost imperceptible rumble of thunder that can be heard, especially during quiet moments. it feels like the power of the sky is always present.

• the cabin is illuminated by electric lanterns that mimic the look of ancient greek torches. these lanterns have a bluish-white flame that flickers like lightning. they provide a soft, but sufficient light for the entire cabin.

• each bed has dark blue bedding, with gold trim and embroidery. the pillows are soft, and the headboards are engraved with thundercloud patterns. each bed is spacious and sturdy, resembling a king's bed, giving a sense of royalty.

cabin traditions

• whenever something bad happens to one of them, they kick the statue of zeus in the balls.

• to start each day with energy, the head counselor has a morning routine where they produce a loud clap of thunder to wake everyone up. it eventually becomes a competition to see who can make the loudest or most impressive thunderclap each morning.

• they take it upon themselves to predict the weather for the day, using their natural instincts and connection to the sky. they could even post a daily weather forecast outside their cabin door, which would often be surprisingly accurate and trusted by other campers..

• on the nights when the sky is clear, they hold a tradition called "sky bridge," where they create a makeshift bridge with ropes and wooden planks, connecting the cabin to a nearby high tree or structure. they use this bridge to sit and stargaze, feeling as if they're closer to the heavens.

divider by @plutism

[wordy-little-witch]

Buggy brainrot-

I spent a few hours today in the EER with mama and had to distract myself Somehow so you get my silly lil snippets of music video stories in my head-

Buggy accidentally seduces a bunch of people and doesn't even NOTICE because of his special brand of oblivious survival rizz

Basically during the 2 year skip where he gets named a Warlord, he does in fact attend a meeting or a few. The first one, he's a mix of audacious loudmouth show boating and critical assessing eyes.

By the second one he's decently comfortable with knowing the names and faces of his vicinity - he's plotting and he's got more than a few cards, knifes, and other items up his sleeves.

At some point, the meeting goes from relatively calm to absolutely hog fucking wild and somehow, someway, someone's belonging winds up damn near launched into the upper rafters of the room. There's a strict No Devil Fruit policy, enforced by a seastone earring, so while the arguments and in-fighting ensue, Buggy just kind of scoffs, walks put, comes back with a pole, jams it into the broken tiled flooring and proceeds to ignore them while he climbs. Pole art isn't too terribly different from his aerials and trapeze, and he's done just about EVERYTHING under the sun at last once, so it's nothing unfamiliar. His gloves are uniquely textured so he can safely handle his Muggy and Buggy Balls, too, so carefully using his momentum and muscles to climb and shift up the pole smoothly is a pretty simple matter.

He gets to the top, hooks his legs and feet properly, and twists his spine to reach out, unaware of the sets of eyes boring into him.

Mihawk is stone faced, but there is a heat to his gaze. Doffy's sunglasses have slipped down his nose a little. Kuma is pointedly Not Looking. Hancock is... frankly pretending to be uninterested but lowkey is staring. Buggy is oblivious, retrieves the hat or sash or earring, whatever it was, and shifts his weight, releases a hold and smoothly drops, stopping just before the floor to daintily rise, sashay over, and plopped the item on the table, fixing his gloves.

It's the silence that has him looking up, arching a brow. "What?"

Then he sees the time.

"Oh. Meeting's over. Bye~"

And baby boy DIPS.

(Nickelback - Midnight Queen)

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Shanks POV post-Rogers-disbanding, pre-Execution, the cabin brats solo on the seas

He's watching Buggy charm the absolute hell out of a guy at a bar in some no name little town. They've been landlocked for nearing a week now, their previous ship shot to hell by a pirate crew hounding their tail after they'd been sighted some three islands back. The ship held together long enough to pull a full miracle put of nowhere, helped along by a storm. Since then, they'd been gathering cash to pay off her repairs to keep moving, unwilling to part with Speed after all she'd done for them so far.

One source of income came from Buggy's silver tongue and sticky fingers.

The blue haired pirate was leaning over the counter now, twirling a loose lock of hair as he giggled, fluttering his lashes. The man he was buttering up was a few years their senior, bejeweled and slicked hair, a flush of intoxication on his cheeks as he warmly regarded the pretty thing at his side. Shanks could relate, at least a little, on the way the man's attention was focused so thoroughly on Buggy.

Pink tinted lips quirked into a smile, head tilting invitingly, to which the man responded as expected. He was under the blue haired pirate's spell already - Shanks checked the time - three minutes in. Not a new record, but close.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, honestly. It was not jealousy, not truly, that curdled his stomach. Instead, something bloomed viciously in his abdomen, something akin to possessiveness. Sure, he figured absently, people can find Buggy pretty in his disguise.

But Shanks was the one who saw his entirety.

Shanks saw the tan lines on pale skin; Shanks knew the taste of his freckles and skin; Shanks knew the scars on his left hip and between his shoulder blades; Shanks could map Buggy's face from memory with lips alone, and he damn well knew it.

The world can be played by Buggy, but Shanks would know the game.

And an hour later, outside of that little bar, he would welcome the smaller body leaning unflinchingly into his side, arm around the other's shoulders, heart full and his lover's pockets heavy, and Shanks would look back, would meet wide, dark eyes with a pink smudge on his chin. And Shanks would grin, sharp and unrepentant, turning to guide those same pink lips up to his own.

He's wear his boyfriend's lipstick with pride.

((NEFFEX - Rumors))

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy wears skirts whenever the fancy strikes, and sometimes it works perfectly for parties. He'll be the first to say that people who don't love dancing in skirts have never tried it before. While his fashion tastes aren't always expected, he revealed in the freedom there - and his crew thrived in such environments.

That was why he hadn't thought to make a big deal out of the first skirt day since Cross Guild was established. It simply WAS, in the same way as the weather, the same way as the meal plans, simply just footnotes in it all. He'd gone most of the day without seeing the two newest additions to the island, and frankly had forgotten to be vigilant of them.

It was a good day, a new shipment, a celebration, nothing too extravagant, just a fun night with his people. Really, Buggy hadn't even thought to glance up for yellow or violet eyes.

The crew was boisterous, but that was normal, music playing and laughter ringing. Buggy was sandwiched between Alvida and Marianne, a newer islander from a small island out East. The dialect there was unfamiliar by and large, but Buggy had grown up learning it from a man he considered a father, and Mari had so few who spoke her mother tongue.

Buggy simply had the idea to make tonight Extra fun.

After all, nobody partied like a Roger, and Roger always had the best songs. Bugs wasn't too bad with a fiddle. When asked, Mari beamed, no slouch herself, and offered to take the lead.

So they took to the stage, each swiping an instrument with playful glares, and heels tapped the rhythm as they began, hop-skipping as they bobbed and weaved, clapping joining as people whooped and hollered, making merry and enjoying themselves.

It was midway through that Buggy was caught playfully, fiddle lifted as one of the older mercenaries bowed him out, picking up the tune. He laughed happily, hands fisting his skirts as he twirled and danced, thoroughly enjoying himself-

And then he caught sight of Mihawk. He was watching, an odd note in his eyes, and Buggy could just barely see the way the other seemed to lean into the music. Fueled by a wild idea, high on the adrenaline and joy, Buggy walked over and offered his hand.

And Mihawk accepted.

He was a great dancer, and Buggy was delighted to be lead in a familiar dance, beaming boldly at the goth man before him. Traditional dances like this were few and far between - it only made them more fun.

That night began a change - first of which culminating into Mihawk fluffing Buggy's skirt with an almost-smile, a quiet statement following. "I should quite like to do this again some time."

Buggy only realizes later what that implied.

((Celtic Woman - Níl Sé'n Lá))

[pforpedro]

TWIN FLAME

Joel Miller x Reader

WARNINGS: Smut! (No spoilers), 18+ content, Reader is aged up, Joel being a protective dad, rough Joel with a hint of softness, not proofread, MINORS DNI.

SUMMARY: [SET PRE APOCALYPSE, Joel is 36, reader is 25] Joel thinks he’s got the hold over you, the upper hand for sure, that is until you challenge him and he discovers maybe he’s met his match.

Silence.

Is what Joel Miller craved for in the early hours of Tuesday morning. Birds sung loudly by the window sill, the sounds of voices flowing through the halls and squeezing between the crack in his bedroom door. He craved for just five more minutes.

“Daaaaaad!”

He grunted softly, burrowing his head deep into the pillow.

“Daaaad! Breakfast is ready!” Sarah called from the kitchen, followed by giggles and the crash of a frying pan hitting the porcelain floor tiling.

“Oh, shit!” You jumped backwards as pancake mixture splashed everywhere, splatters of liquid landing on your sheer tights.

“You’re literally the clumsiest person I know,” Sarah sighed, grabbing a cloth from the counter top and throwing it at you. You stuck out your tongue in dismay before crouching down and mopping up the liquid with the rag.

“He rises!” Sarah called, her voice following the footsteps that assented into the kitchen.

“Who you talkin’ to?”

“That would be me,” you smiled sheepishly, reaching a hand out above the counter top and waving towards the stairway while you continued to clean the residue seeping into the cracks between the tiles, “hey I hope you don’t mind but I think I broke your frying pan?”

“What, the third one this month?” Joel sighed, joking, but equally unamused.

“At least Y/N wakes up on time to make pancakes, for you might I add,” Sarah swatted her dads shoulder playfully as he took a seat at the small table just outside the kitchen.

“Ain’t you supposed to be at work?” Joel quizzed from the table, reaching out the grasp an apple from the fruit bowl as he flicked open the newspaper.

Your head popped up from behind the counter, tossing the rag into the sink and peering over at the older male, “ain’t you old enough to work an alarm?” You smirked playfully, “yeah, no, Zena is covering my shift this morning.”

“Why?” Joel pushed, biting down into the rosy apple clasped between his fingers.

“Never you mind,” you swooned, stepping out from behind the counter. His eyes fell to you like a sack of sugar, scanning you up and down. Your legs were laced in sheer black tights, hips sporting some high rise black torn shorts, oversized shirt which tied in the middle with ‘The Exorcist’ logo panning across the chest.

“Take a picture, it might last longer,” Sarah mumbled beneath her breath as she nudged her dads shoulder playfully, earning a glare from him. Sarah had soon caught on to her fathers not so subtle crush on you, and she figured the feelings were mutual considering the way you spoke to one another. Teasing, sometimes not so playfully. You were like an older sister to Sarah, so albeit it seemed a little strange, it was also funny watching the way you interacted with one another.

“C’mon, I’ll drop you off at school, pick you a breakfast bagel up on the way,” you raised your brows as you checked the clock, glancing over at Sarah and tilting your head slightly.

“Uh, uh, no way,” Joel protested, standing from the small round table, “you’re not getting on the back of that thing, I already told you that.”

“She has a spare helmet?” Sarah argued, gesturing towards you standing by the coat wrack.

“I already told you, no. No motorcycles.”

“Oh, c’mon old man, I know you’ve sported at least one in your lifetime,” you teased, folding your arms across your chest. He turned to you with a hardened stare, asking you as politely as he could muster not to push this further.

Sarah sighed, knowing there was no part arguing with him. Once he had his mind set, it was like pulling a sword from stone.

“You can take the bus, I’ll give you cash,” he spoke as he dug his hand into his back pocket, pulling out a five dollar bill.

“I got it,” you planted your hand on the table, sliding another five dollar bill across the fine wood, “covers the frying fan,” you scrunched your nose as you turned to Joel, seeing his expression fall as you smiled.

“Alright, fine,” he deducted the green note in his hand, tucking it back into his pocket, “c’mon you’re gonna be late,” he swiped his brow, ushering Sarah towards the door as he checked the time.

You made your way back into the kitchen whilst they said their goodbyes, picking up the rag in the kitchen sink and running the tap over it leisurely, watching as the pancake mix slowly began to run clean off the rag and down the sink hole.

You hadn’t heard the door close, the sound of the water hitting the basin of the sink drowning out the sounds around you, so when two firm hands caged you in against the kitchen counter your breath hitched suddenly. You flicked off the tap, relaxing as your senses were filled with Joel, his scent consuming you entirely.

“Can I help you with something?” You smirked devilishly, teasing him as you turned your head over your shoulder, catching his hooded eyes glaring at you. His hand snaked around your hip delicately, mapping out each curve carefully as his finger pads slid between your thighs.

This was something you had been longing for, and you couldn’t deny it any longer.

You’d been teasing Joel for the last few weeks just waiting for him to break, each time becoming a little more promiscuous. You figured it wouldn’t be long before he finally caved, but he held out strong. You weren’t sure why today was the day, but you weren’t complaining.

“You think you’re fuckin’ smart? Teasing me like that?” His voice was deep and gruff, breath hot as it fanned against the crook in your neck, his nose bumping your jaw as he placed it there carefully. You were yet to see this side of Joel, usually so loving and fatherly. This deepens, dark, dominant side made your skin shiver with excitement.

You bit your lip with a smile, cocking your brow as you spun in his embrace to face him, hands resting back against the counter, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your smirk drove him crazy, feeling the warmth of your hand slither between your bodies that were practically pressed together, groping his hardening length that pulsed hard behind his jeans, “but I think whatever it was… worked.”

If anything, you had this coming. You’d had your eyes on Joel for the last few months and you’d made that clear. Yes, he was your best friend going on younger sisters dad, but the heart wants what it wants, and the moment you caught his eyes staring you knew you had it in the bag.

He grasped your hips harshly, turning your back to face him, “you gonna act like a slut I’m gonna fuckin’ treat you like one.”

The sound of your shorts tearing made your heart skip a beat, his rough hands palming the plump of your ass cheek through your tights as he pressed his cock against you.

“Those where my favourite shorts,” you cursed, feeling the material drop to your feet as you took a step back, spinning on your heels and lacing your arm around his neck as you stepped into his space, drawing him out until his back slammed against the fridge, “you’re gonna pay for that.”

“Make me,” he groaned, lunging forward and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was heated from the get go, tongues fighting for dominance as his hand snaked down, hiking your thigh over his hip, your toes pressing into the cold metal of the fridge door as he ripped oxygen from your lungs.

All the pent up energy of longing looks, bending over a little too far whenever he was around, leaning against the doorframe so you could see the way his top rode just far enough up his torso to reveal the lining of his boxers was pouring into your lips. This wasn’t passion, this was desperation. This wasn’t want, this was need.

Your hand grasped his hair forcefully, fingers interlocking with his loose curls and tugging without mercy. He groaned softly at the sudden pain in his scalp, chin tilting to the ceiling as you held him there, licking a bold stripe up the length of his throat making him shiver.

Finally, someone who knew how to have a little fun.

You weren’t afraid to make those moves, because you knew travelling south, he was already mewling droplets of pre cum for you. You loosened your grip as you retracted your tongue into the warmth of your mouth, locking eyes with Joel as he dropped his chin back down to face you, “upstairs. Now.”

You stumbled up the steps as Joel tagged hot on your heels, kissing your neck fiercely as you breached the doorway. His large hands clasped the backs of your thighs, pulling you clean off your feet and laying you down against the mattress. You watched closely, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he tore off his shirt, tossing it down by the side of the bed and made quick work of his belt.

“Wait,” you leaned upwards quickly before he could discard the leather strap to the comfort of the carpet. Lacing your fingers around it delicately you peered up through lust filled eyes, “tie me up.”

“Fuck, you little slut,” he groaned, grasping the back of your hair and tugging harshly eliciting a strong gasp from the back of your throat. The pain was almost pleasurable as he held you there without menace, looking down at you with a sickening smirk.

“Dirty thing, aren’t you?” He hummed, “hands, now.”

You raised your hands before you as he released the grip on your head. Wrapping the leather around your wrists set your heart on fire, watching as he calculated the amount of times it swirled around before buckling it shut and tugging harshly, making sure it was secured in place.

“You haven’t even undressed me yet,” you smirked, brow ticking upwards slightly as he looked at you in realisation.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, grasping you by the hips and throwing you backwards. You adored the way he man handled you. Crawling above you slowly, he looked as though he was sent from above. So beautiful, sexy and delicate, yet hot and writhing with lust at the same time.

After hovering above you for a moment he sat to attention, thumbs sliding between the gap of his jeans and V line, slowly beginning to glide them down his muscular legs. You watched in awe as his cock sprang free, veins protruding, tip an angry red as it weeped his heavenly seed.

Your mouth ran dry, clit pulsing. You thought it was enough to make you cum on the spot. That was until he began touching himself, wrapping his bold fingers around the base and pumping slowly.

“Jesus, Joel,” you whimpered, rubbing your thighs together to try and gain some kind of friction. He tsk’d at your poor attempt to relieve the pressure gaining between your legs, chuckling lowly as his hands dropped from his cock to your legs. You jumped at the sudden touch, raising your arms above your head.

“That’s it, princess,” he smirked. His idle fingers graced you delicately, panning their route from your hip bone down to your heated thighs, “no underwear… dirty girl,” his breathing fell shallow at the faint scent of your arousal beginning to consume his senses.

“Please, Joel,” you whispered, lightly bucking your hips to him, begging for attention. He hooked his finger deep into the material of your rights and began tugging, shredding the material to gain access to your pulsing clit.

“Don’t hold back,” he breathed softly catching your attention. Before you could question his words he licked a bold, solid stripe up the length of your heat, watching your head fall back against the mattress, spine arching in ecstasy. The sounds you made only drove him on, collecting your arousal on his tongue to taste you in full.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned, large hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as he raised them over his shoulders, pulling you closer to his mouth. All the while he bathed in the pool of your rich taste, his hips had began to grind against the fabric of the quilt covering the mattress in a helpless attempt to relieve the pressure.

“Joel!” You squealed as his nose bumped your clit, the tip of his tongue swirling your hole in the process.

“Joel- Joel!” The hollow in your tone snatched his actions to a halt, sensing the way your stomach began to clench and hands fondled with the bed sheets that you were gaining on your orgasm.

“Asshole!” You cursed, raising your head from the mattress to see him smirking at you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“That’s no way to speak to me now, is it? After everything I’ve just given you,” without breaking eye contact he lowered his hands, grasping your thighs and tugging you close, “after everything I’m about to give to you,” he continued, suddenly feeling his tip at your entrance which had your teeth gnawing into your bottom lip.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you chanted with desperation, legs squirming in his grasp, “please, Joel, please-“

“Please what?”

“Fuck me!” You gasped, digging your heels down to pull him closer. Your eyes clenched shut as you felt his tip spread you wide, filling you inch by inch at a steady pace without halt despite your screams.

“Fuckin’ christ, Y/N,” he whimpered, your name sounding like heaven as it rolled off his tongue, “so fucking tight, so wet… so warm.”

“All for you, Joel,” you panted weakly, clenching around him making him wince. Not a second passed that he allowed you to adjust before he set a brutal pace, fucking into you without mercy. If it was desperation before you weren’t quite sure what to call this.

It was rough, your lungs burned from the screams that tore from your throat as you took everything he gave to you. He railed you without mercy, hips slamming into your core, tip working to rearrange the position of your organs. The sound of skin on skin filled the entirety of the house and you knew there was a possibility the whole neighbourhood could hear his name rolling off the tip of your tongue. He was needy, desperate but all the while managing to keep up the pace, never once letting slip. He pulsed as he rocked, grasping handfuls of flesh in a desperate plea to pull you closer, optimising for the ultimate option of holding you chest to chest.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as he continued the brutal pace, breasts bouncing in unison to his thrusts. To the sudden taste of drawn blood you heard him curse, his cock delving deep into your core as he neared his end to the finish line.

“S-slow down,” you whimpered, “this doesn’t have to end, n-not yet,” you begged, not wanting the sensation of his cock deep inside you to dissipate within a moments notice. You’d craved this feeling for so long and you knew he felt the same.

“You’re too good for me,” he groaned, rolling his hips just as hard, but slowing in pace, “don’t know how badly I wanna f-fill you up,” he turned to face you as he spoke, eyes drifting down to your plump lips smothered in crimson.

“You’re bleeding,” he swallowed, “your lip, it’s bleeding.”

“Don’t go soft on me now,” you smirked breathlessly as the soft underbelly of his nature crawled through the cracks. He smiled softly, bringing his spare hand to your lip as he stilled within you, resting his length inside your core as the pad of his thumb drew softly against the indent in your lower lip.

You watched with shimmery eyes as he wiped the blood away, locking onto your iris with his own as he held you tight. You could suddenly feel the heat as it rushed to your cheeks, the vulnerability shining through. There were no words that were spoken as you felt the absence of need, just his soft lips on yours. The wound stung from a moment as his saliva mixed with your own, but then the passion sank in.

He lowered you softly as his kisses deepened and the pace of his thrusts turned soft, loving you in a subtle sort of way. His hands reached upwards slowly, pulling away from your lips to release you from your leather chains. Your wrists were sore from friction, but where erased upon feeling the softness of his cheeks against the palm of your hand.

The slam of a door suddenly echoed through the home, making your heart slam against your rib cage.

“Dad?” Sarah’s voice rang clear from the kitchen. Your eyes sprung wide, fighting against one another to pull away from your grip.

“Stay here,” Joel demanded as he grasped his jeans from the floor and departed out into the hallway in a hurry, straightening out his unruly hair as he paced, slamming the door behind him.

Breathless, you sat on the bed, covering yourself with a pillow and a dumb, childish smile came to your cheeks. As stupid as it was and as surreal as this all seemed, you had gained confirmation that the magic you had worked to win Joel Millers attention had worked.

Who’s to say it wouldn’t work again in the future?

This story was yet to be finished, and you couldn’t wait to read those final pages.

[watermelonsugacry]

i’m getting the feeling that matilda is about 1d!reader, and i already know that it’s gonna break me

Building Harry's House: Matilda

A/N: Sorry this took forever to post but uni work is choking me without a sea view rn so tysm for being patient lovies 💚

SUMMARY: With the world knowing of their once secret relationship, Harry and YN navigate life together as an official couple and everything that comes with it. (9.6k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!reader, famous!yn

WARNING: mention of abuse (yn gets slapped), excessive drinking, mention of drugs

Previous Song Here!🍷// Building Harry's House masterlist // SINCE 2010 masterlist

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

Consistency is something that has always been a part of the spine in YN’s storybook. No matter how many years go by, Penny remains a burst of sunshine with a kaleidoscope of colors—Harry can see how YN came to have her own golden light.

Harry turns the wheel of the car with the palm of his hand and parks into the gravel driveway of Penny’s house. When YN finally saved up enough money to take her mum out of the rickety house she grew up in, she made sure to tell Penny that she could have any place she wanted—it didn’t even have to be in London anymore if that’s what she truly desired. Of course, her stepmum opted for a cottage in the countryside along with a forest for a backyard and greenery as far as the eyes can see. Colorful, homemade pottery, wind chimes, and furniture scatter the front porch, adding Penelope’s psychedelic touch to every little thing that YN’s seen since she was little. 

Harry’s been aware of how quiet his love’s been during their travels. After the unexpected phone call from her father in Italy, he didn’t hesitate to pack their things when she said she wanted to see her stepmum. He immediately called his private pilot and made plans to head to Doncaster as soon as possible. 

He watches as she exits the car without so much of a peep out of her mouth. He follows behind her as they make their way up the stone walkway that leads to the front of the house covered in greenery, much like YN’s home back in LA. He sees how YN pushes her fingers against the glass windchimes on the front porch before twisting the handle on the front door and walking in. 

He sees her stepmum round the hallway corner in a tank top that showcases the few tattoos she has scattered along her arms and tracksuit pants, her face bare and glowing. Her bare feet pad across the tiled floor as she readjusts her long black hair in a ponytail. When she kisses her stepdaughter’s cheek in greeting, Harry notices the yoga mat farther into the small living room. 

The place screams Penny: bohemian rugs, funky lamp shades and handmade paintings hung on every space the wall can fit.

After receiving the warmest welcome and being served tea out of her mismatched colorful mugs, the seal in YN’s silent mask finally cracks and it has her pacing across the kitchen floor. As he watches his love spill out everything on her mind that she’s kept in for the past two days and he can do nothing but lean against the doorframe of the kitchen and listen.

“Like, what could he possibly want from me? Money? Fame? A relationship with his daughter after eleven fookin’ years?” YN huffs out a laugh at the thought of her last suggestion with her hands on her hips. “Dunno how this bloke even got me personal number. That’s some hacker shite right there. And now I gotta change my number again and make sure that—”

“I gave him your number.” Penny blurts out from her seat at the table, making YN stop her pacing in the middle of the room. Her breathing stops altogether and the room goes silent with a faint sound of the glass windchimes from outside. Even Harry’s eyebrows furrow from his spot leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Whot? Wha—why the hell would you do that, Penny?” YN shakes her head as she tries to wrap her head around the fact that her step mum gave the one person she never wants to see again a leeway into her life.

“Look, I don’t support what he did or how he raised you—”

“He didn’t fookin’ raise me.”

“But he’s changed.”

“That’s like, the most bullshit reasoning anyone has ever given. And how would you even know that? Have you been talking to him?”

Penny fidgets with a strand of her long black hair and twists the ends as she mumbles out, “He’s reached out once or twice.”

“What the ‘ell? Whose side are you even on?”

With a hand on his hip, his other rubs against the stubble on his cheek as he watches the two women dispute back and forth. He doesn’t know if he should leave to give them some privacy or stay in case anything gets out of hand. 

He hates to see his love this way, pacing with frustrated fingers twisting the rings on her fingers so much that they’re sure to leave red marks on her skin. The crease between her eyebrows begging to be soothed out by his lips and the harsh nails raking through her hair demands to be switched with his gentle ones—the kind that has her falling asleep almost instantly.

“I was in the hippie scene, YN! I was young and naive and I fell in love with this bloke. I didn’t know what I wanted or what was right or what was wrong. But the one thing I knew for fooking sure was wanting you to be in me life.” Penny sighs out as she composes herself. “Look, you know I would never do anything to hurt yeh. He first reached out months ago; s’not like he called yesterday and I gave him yeh number willy nilly.”

“So what are yeh saying? That I actually go pay this man a little visit?” Before Penny could even begin her suggestion, YN scoffs and immediately shakes her head. “No.”

“YN—”

“No, not happening. No way.”

When Harry sees her stepmum let out a deep sigh and rubs a smoothing hand over her forehead, he thinks now might be a time for him to step in.

“YN, maybe you should listen to yeh mum—”

“Stay out of this, Harry!” YN snaps at him without so much as a second thought. “This is none of yeh damn business.”

“YN!” Penny scolds her stepdaughter but it’s no use as YN storms off to the backyard. It’s a rare thing for either one of them to snap at each other but when one does, it can be quite scary. Their last big argument was well over a year ago during the making of Harry’s last album and they’ve made it a habit not to revert back to their shitty way of communication. He almost lost her then and he’s sure as hell not going to let her go now. 

Penelope turns to Harry with a sorrowful expression, “Yeh did nothing wrong, Harry. She’s just stu—”

“Stubborn. Yeah, I know.” With a shrug of his shoulder and a sad smile, he says, “S’unfortunately, one of the things I love about her.” 

...

After walking off some of the steam around the massive yard, YN stumbles upon the garage she helped her stepmum convert into an art studio. Canvases the size of her line up against the wall (a painting in the works up on an easel), buckets of paints and brushes scattered every which way, and a pottery wheel in the center of the room. 

With her arms wrapped around herself, she walks along the shelving filled with miscellaneous items: Penny’s homemade ceramic creations, funky decor pieces, plants, books and the picture they used for the Story of My Life music video framed and displayed front and center.

She runs her finger across the array of books on the shelves, stopping and pulling out a particular book.

“Find anything yeh like?” YN looks up and gives her stepmum a small smile.

“Yeh still have this?” YN waves her old copy of Matilda. The pages were so well loved that one wrong blow of the wind could have the cover fall off of its spine.

“Of course, yeh wouldn’t let that thing go.” Penny takes a cautious step towards her stepdaughter and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, “But there are some things that you just have let go, right?”

Penny’s ready for the young woman to blow up again, sigh out in frustration, and even walk out of the room. But it’s safe to say that she wasn’t expecting for her to look at her with glossy eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

“I'm scared, mum.” YN whispers out and Penny wastes no time pulling her into her arms.

“It’s okay to be scared, baby.” She reassures her stepdaughter. “But yeh don’t have to be. You have to choose whether or not you want him to have that power over yeh. You are so strong, so courageous. M’sorry that I didn’t warn you beforehand.”

“S’okay,” YN pulls back as she wipes at her cheeks. “If yeh would have warned me I would just keep avoiding him. I think it's a sign, right?"

“Follow yeh heart, baby. You know what to do." Penny brushes the strands of hair away from her daughter's face in a comforting way. "Have yeh told him about what happened?” She doesn't need to say his name for YN to know who she's referring to.

“Does he need to know?” Even YN cringes her face up at her words, already knowing the answer to her question. She blindly points to the general direction of the backyard. "M'gonna go talk to him."

Harry can’t help but think of how much Penny’s house reminds him of his mum’s place he bought for her all those years ago. Like YN’s stepmum, she didn’t want anything too grand in the busy life of London but a cozy cottage with a massive yard. He remembers hearing a lot about how the two mums bonded over gardening and wonders if the sunflowers growing off in the corner of the yard was his mum’s doing.

He gets pulled away from his thoughts on one of the patio couches when he hears the sliding back door open and he’s met with his love.

“Hi,” she breathes out.

“Hey.”

“M’sorry I snapped at you. Yeh did nothing wrong.” YN sighs as she keeps her gaze to her fidgety hands, her thumb twisting the ring on her index finger. “Yeh been nothing but supportive and you didn’t deserve that. M’sorry. Can you forgive me?”

He wordlessly pats the seat next to him and she’s quick to climb up close to him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently holds the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. He’d forgive her for anything in a heartbeat; that’s how deep his love is for her. 

“S’alright,” Harry mumbles against her skin and feels her shoulders relax against him. “I forgive you.”

“Good. That would have been awkward if yeh didn’t,” YN huffs out a laugh through her nose in an attempt to ease the mood and he can’t hold back the small smile of his face. 

They stay like this for a bit, wrapped up in one another as they look out into the giant, forest-like backyard before them. As much as he’d like to pretend that everything’s alright and move on, he knows that it’s not healthy to. That’s all they’ve ever done during these past couple of years since the band started: suppressing thoughts and feelings in hopes they would disappear and everything would resolve itself on its own. In a perfect world, maybe, but they’ve wasted so much time doing that that they both see what they’ve been missing out on.

As much as he doesn’t want to pop the bubble they’ve created, he knows this needs to be done—or at least try to.

“YN?” When she hums in response, he puts a reassuring hand over hers and is rewarded with the eyes that make him weak in the knees. “Do you feel comfortable telling me about your dad?”

“He’s not me dad,” YN shakes her head instantly. “He didn’t—doesn’t deserve that name. He isn’t me dad. He’s my father and the only reason he even gets that much is because we share the same DNA.” 

YN lets out a deep sigh and avoids her boyfriend’s gaze to look out to the trees scattered around the backyard. She’s never talked to Harry or any of the boys about her father, nor has she ever wanted to. When topics of her family came up during interviews, music video projects, or even group dinners, Penny was only mentioned and brought along. Out of respect, nobody tried to pry her open for any other information about if she had a dad, any other siblings or relatives she was close with. It was only Penny and the Tomlinsons—no one else.

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” As Harry’s head runs around with unfulfilled questions a thousand miles a minute, ready to close the conversation and reassure her that she can when she’s ready, she manages to mumble out, “But I do feel comfortable with you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’m never going to want to talk about me father but since I plan to spend the rest of me life with you, I need to tell you about this part of my life.”

When Harry turns his body towards her to give her his full attention, her nerves begin to spike up again. But with his hand in hers, it grounds her and makes her feel an overwhelming sense of safety. So with that, she takes in a deep breath before lowering down the wall of her past that she’s kept hidden from the world for years. 

YN, Louis, and some of her other friends ride their bikes down the streets of Doncaster after getting out of school. It was a particularly cold day this time of year and they were all wrapped up in thick coats and scarves. Now, YN isn’t big on birthdays. She never celebrated them in her own household but the Tomlinson’s never failed to give her a cake, collectively sing her the infamous song, and give her a present or two. But this year is different. This year, YN turns 16 and Penny nearly jumped up and down in excitement when her stepdaughter asked if she could bring some friends over for a little party. 

Nobody has ever really been to her house, even Louis—her best friend since she was five years old—doesn’t spend too much time over there either. He was already so used to her suggesting to go over to his house instead that he began to question if she was feeling alright when she told him her plans.

The only reason why she’s even inviting everyone over is because her father said he’d be out late at work and won’t be back until the late hours of the night. Not that she wasn’t used to him not being home, it’s just when he was, he was accompanied by a beer bottle and bitter comments.

The group drops their bikes on the small yard in front of her house before trekking up the short, creaky steps of the porch as they chat and laugh lively amongst themselves. There’s a sense of relief not seeing anyone in the small living room once she pushed and twisted her key in the lock. Her eyebrows furrow for a second when her step mum isn’t there. She did her car in the driveway but brushes it off before turning to the group.

“Alright lads, yeh guys can just leave yeh stuff in here and I can go get us something to eat from the kitchen.” YN smiles at her small group of friends as they all happily agree. Too embarrassed to admit it to herself but she’s actually excited about her little get-together. She’s never hosted a party before and Jay and Penelope pre-made some snacks for her to pass around.

“Let me help yeh with tha—” Louis says as he begins to shrug off his puffer coat when Penny hurriedly comes into the living room. 

“YN,” The young girl furrows her eyebrows for the millionth time at the way her stepmum’s voice shakes and at the fake smile plastered on her face. “‘ello everyone, welcome. Hun, um can I talk with yeh for a second? Ah—Lou, stay there babe. The kitchen is actually a mess from earlier.”  

Louis stops in his tracks as he feels the confusion continues to rise up. Instead of questioning it, he takes it upon himself to entertain the group for the time being as his best friend and her stepmum step off to the side.

“Penny, what’s wrong? Yeh scaring meh.”

“Baby, um,” Penny anxiously pushes her long black hair behind her ears before looking over to her small group of friends in the living room. “There was a little hiccup at your father’s work today...”

No. Please, no.

“Well, wha’s goin’ on in here?” A voice sounds from somewhere behind her and the inevitable chill runs down her spine. 

 When YN turns around, her father stands before her. She’s quick to assess the situation: dirty white shirt, beer bottle in hand, eyes pink and puffy, and the stench of his breath.

“Having a little party without meh or whot?” Samuel taunts with a sickening smile before taking a swing from the dark bottle. Her stomach drops at the sight of her friends’ eyes widening at the man before them.

“Sammy, baby.” YN sees her step mum quickly come to his side and place a hand on her husband’s chest with a gentle voice. “Come on, we were just heading out, right?” 

Please, this can’t be happening. Not now.

“Come on, let YN have her party and we can go out for dinner like we planned.”

“No,” He says sternly, shrugging his arm away from her gentle hand. “S’me house. I paid for it. Why do I ‘ave to leave?” He slurs.

“S’alright, we were just leaving.” YN tries her hardest to not make this a bigger scene than it’s already becoming. “I actually forgot I left the snacks over at yeh house, Lou. Why don’t yeh lads head over there and I’ll be over in a sec.” 

“I don’t think—”

“Louis, I’ll meet up with you guys over there.” YN smiles reassuringly but her eyes tell a different story. He can tell that she’s just begging him to take the group away next door and let her deal with her father in the privacy of the worn down walls of the house. 

She feels ashamed and embarrassed by the way her friends awkwardly gather their things and shuffle out of the house. 

“Hanging around with that Louis bloke again?” Samuel provokes as soon as she closes the door behind the group. YN wouldn’t usually give in to one of his verbal pokes and digs, but whenever he brings up her best friend, it makes the fire in her chest burn hotter. 

“Got fired again?” She retaliates in a bored tone.

“Yeh being smart with meh? Yeh just think you’re so smart, huh?”

“Well I did skip a grade so what do you think?” YN tries to brush past her tispy father over to the kitchen to grab the pre-made snacks but it’s easier said than done. He immediately blocks her from walking any further.

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Her father yells in her face and the smell of alcohol washes over her stronger than before. It makes her scrunch her up nose up at the scent and she keeps her gaze on his dirty shirt than his eyes. “Yeh think yeh can do whatever yeh want and invite people over? Just like that? Yeh can’t just do anythin’ yeh want, Marilyn!” 

This wasn’t the first time Samuel has called YN by her mother’s name, drunk or not. Marilyn left her father when YN was merely four years old, too fed up by her husband to deal with him for another day and too selfish to bring her daughter to her new life. YN remembers the yelling from downstairs and loud shut of the front door. 

She remembers the bright blue and red lights from the police car flashing from her backyard later on in the night, and the two officers saying something about a car accident. She also remembers how it was the first time she ever saw her father cry. 

She doesn’t remember a lot about her mother. When she was older, she found a few pictures of her that her father kept away and needless to say, she was shocked. She almost thought they were pictures of her until she saw a younger version of her father next to her.

“Yeah, and you know what? I wish I was her.” YN bites back through her clenched teeth, finally having the strength to look up and meet his eyes. “I wish I was her so that I can fookin’ leave you like she did!”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she feels a hot sting on her cheek. The strong impact startles her, her body reacting on its own from the unexpected action that her hands have to catch herself before her face can hit the ground.

“Samuel!”

She hears her step-mum yell, but it sounds muffled. Everything around her fades into a high ringing noise. It wasn’t uncommon for YN and her father to have some heated, verbal arguments. The both of them get red in the face and nasty words are exchanged that should never be said between a daughter and a father. As much they both had the urge to do so, never, never has he ever laid a hand on her until now. 

YN puts a hand on her burning cheek and whips her head around to look up at her father. His chest is heaving in anger, eyebrows deeply furrowed and she can practically see the steam radiating off of him.

As she picks herself off the floor and Penny is quick to her side but YN pushes the woman away from her while keeping her stern gaze on her father. 

Without another word, she marches towards the door. She thinks she hears Penny calling out after her, maybe even her father, but she doesn’t care. She swings the door open and makes headway towards her discarded bike.

She pushes her feet quickly against the pedals, her legs burn at how fast she’s going but continues on. She doesn’t even spare a glance at Louis’ house when she rides past it—her surroundings just all become a big moving blur. The tears on her cheeks feel ice cold as the wind whips at her face, but it simultaneously soothes the fresh marks on her skin. 

“I used to think that if I pedaled hard enough, I would fly away. Like some blue bird in fookin’ Snow White or something.” YN wraps her arms around her legs as she brings them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she continues to keep her gaze on Harry’s hand in hers. She hasn’t been able to look him in the eyes since she started to share her truth.

“Where did you go?” Harry asks softly.

“Well I wanted to run away, but I literally had nothing on me. So after circling around Donny for a bit, I sneaked into Louis’s room that night. Penny found me easily,” YN lets out a watery chuckle and wipes under her nose with her sleeve. “Was the first place she looked but I um, I didn’t come back home for about a month. Pen brought me clothes from home and stuff; she knew I didn’t want to go back there.”

“And your father?”

YN looks out to the orange sun set that peaks through the trees of the spacious yard and shrugs. “That was the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. Pen still stayed with him, I stayed at Jay’s and when the summer came around I went back when he wasn’t there. Two months later I had me XFactor audition and I never came back home.”

“M’so sorry, YN.” Harry’s index finger nudges under his nose to help keep his tears at bay.

YN shakes her head and kisses her teeth. “Don’t be. Y’know I hate it when people give me pity and all that. Makes me feel like I can’t hold me own. If anything, I just felt bad for me mum. Like I just left her there to go on tour with the band for two years before I could come up with the money to buy her a decent place of her own.”

“Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty for any of that, you know that right? You should never apologize for simply growing up and trying to move on, YN. Hey, look at me,” Harry gently nudges his hand under her chin to turn her gaze to him. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you can handle yourself. I mean, look how much you had to deal with and are still here; your golden light shining through the darkest of times. But you don’t have to do this on your own anymore.”

When he pulls her further into his arms, he hears her sniffle back her tears and snuggles further into his chest. His heart breaks at the sound and he feels so helpless, like he could have done something to ease her pain. She was hurting right under his nose and he didn’t do anything. But he’s reminded that this isn’t about him, it’s about her. He can’t imagine going through what she did for so many years. He doesn’t even want to humor the idea of something like that happening to his own mum.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by her response muffled into his chest.

“Can you um...do you mind coming with me to see him next week?”

...

The day to go meet up with her father for afternoon tea came around sooner than YN expected. She barely slept the night before, tossing and turning every which way to release the pain in her temples. If it bothered Harry so much, he did a good job at hiding it because with every wiggle and frustrated sigh, he adjusted their position along with her. He peppered loving kisses to anywhere her skin was near his mouth at the time and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, encouraging her to relax. 

It wasn’t until Harry tugged her on top of him, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and massaged his blunt fingers into her scalp and back that she was finally able to succumb to sleep when the sun began to peek through the sheer curtains. 

After a few phone calls from Jeff and work related matters, Harry walks back into the master bedroom of his home in London with his eyes on the phone in his hand. 

“Darling, wanna start heading o—?” He stops when he sees YN still in her pajamas and her hair messily clipped to the back of her head. She sits criss-cross on the floor with plastic packaging and cardboard all around her. “Baby? What are you doing? Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Look, I finally framed my ABBA poster. It’s been rolled up and stuck in that closet since forever and I found these fancy frames I ordered a while ago but never put them to use. I think I’m actually going to order more and just redo all my posters and stuff.” YN rambles on with her hands on her hips as she looks around at the items surrounding her.

“Baby—”

“Oh! And I have to show you this viral TikTok I saw earlier.” YN scrambles to her feet, moving around Harry and swipes her phone from the dresser behind him. “It’s a life hack on how we can maximize space under the bathroom cabinets because as much as I hate to admit it, we both have loads of skin care stuff and this way we can stay organized! And then—”

“YN,” Harry grabs a hold of her shoulders. When he sees her wide eyes look up at him, he gently takes her jaw in his hands. “S’okay to feel nervous. We don't have to go to your home if you don’t want to, lovie. You did nothing wrong and if you don’t want to go, there’s no harm in that.”

He sees the way her wide, tired eyes soften as he can practically see her working the gears in her head. 

“No. No, you’re right.” YN lets out a deep sigh before kissing her teeth. “I hate it when you’re right. Bruises me ego.” 

Harry huffs out a chuckle and presses a loving kiss to her forehead before heading towards the connected bathroom.

“Come on, I’ll even get the shower going for y—” Once Harry opens the glass door of the shower stall, he eyebrows knit together at the balled up pieces of clothing on the floor banded together by rubber bands. YN gives him a sheepish smile. 

“I learned how to tie-dye.”

...

It’s hard not to notice the way YN’s knee keeps bouncing and her hands fidget with the rings on her fingers. He doesn’t point out the way she keeps moving the dials for the AC or how she tweaks the volume of the music every other minute. 

He licks his lips before giving her thigh under his hand a loving squeeze and saying, “Baby, do you mind grabbing me that chapstick I put in yeh bag?”

YN rummages her purse in search of the tiny tube. Harry glances at his love and finds that while one hand is shoved sifting through her bag, the other one holds an abundance of items: her keys, her wallet, a snack-size bag of Haribos she bought at the airport and their two passports.

“I can’t bloody find this stupid, little—”

“Hey, hey. S’alright, forget about it yeah?” Harry takes the items in her hands and tosses them in the spacious footwell of the car. He intertwines his fingers with hers and brings their hands to his mouth. “Thought it would take your mind off of things but I guess it only made you more upset.” Harry chuckles, trying to lighten her anxiety by pressing kisses to each of her knuckles. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Fook.” YN brings the heel of her other hand to her forehead and closes her eyes. Harry can feel the frustration radiating off of her. It’s heavy and bleak, and not like his YN at all. He’s suddenly thinking of making a “wrong” turn to the airport to go back to Sunny California where her golden smile shined the most. Or even pulling over at the side of the road to say how there’s a suspicious noise coming from the engine and how they need to wait it out before they continue. “I know m’being a bother. I just can’t stay still. I feel so silly—”

“You are not silly for feeling the way you feel. This is a huge step for you and I just want to thank you for allowing me to be with you during this time. I never want yeh to go through this alone, I know you wouldn’t let me go through this thing alone if it was the other way around. And if this turns out bad, I got a few—” Harry pinches his index finger and thumb together and brings it to his lips. “—back home we can do after.” 

“Yeh could have told me that before we left?”

He laughs at her disappointed tone before making a turn onto the designated property. “I didn’t think we’d make a good impression on your father if we showed up stoned.”

“Holy shit,” YN ducks over to Harry’s driver’s side window at the mansion driveway they pull into. “Are you sure this is the right address?”

“You’re the one who put it into the GPS.”

Like second nature, Harry opens her car door and intertwines his hands with hers before making their way up the driveway.

“Now I feel fookin’ underdressed.” YN adjusts the cardigan that keeps falling off of her shoulder. 

“You look fucking gorgeous.” Harry leans down to plant a kiss to her cheek. 

“Oh, no.” YN cracks a smile and pinches at his lips with her knuckles. “I’ve been a bad influence on you, haven’t I?” 

“Wha’ do yeh fookin’ mean?” She giggles as Harry micks her Yorkshire accent. Him and the boys would like to make fun of her accent throughout the years but Harry’s always done it to defuse her anger, to bring a smile on her face and ease her bundle of nerves. “This is how I bloody talk and shit, innt?”

“Is it now?” 

“Aces, man.” Harry smiles brightly at the way she covers her laugh with the back of her hand as he reaches over to push the doorbell. “Just buzzin’ in excitement, aren’t yeh? Oh bloody ‘ell, bloody ‘ell.”

YN and Harry’s laughter gets cut off by the front door opening. There stands an older woman, probably in her late fifties. Her blonde hair looks like it was freshly done at the salon and looks like a fluffy yellow cloud on her head. The woman’s sparkly cocktail dress and matching red lip are way too fancy for an afternoon tea, and if it wasn’t already for the massive size of their house, YN might have been surprised at her attire. 

“Hello there. We were just expecting you both.” The woman’s American accent rings through YN’s ears. As the woman extends her manicured hand to greet the couple, YN’s eyes immediately go to the sparkly rock on her finger. “My name is Della and you beautiful young lady must be—”

“YN.” A voice continues from behind the pristine woman, the same voice that runs a chill down her spine as it did when she was a kid. 

A man appears at the doorway, his eyes widening like he almost expected her to not come at the last minute. 

She doesn’t know who this man in front of her is, but it certainly isn’t the man she remembers. There’s no beer bottle in his hand but a gold wedding band on his ring finger. Instead of his stained shirt, a freshly pressed white button-up and a sweater vest covers his chest. Her nose doesn’t burn from the stench of alcohol but of minty freshness. 

But even though his eyes aren’t surrounded by pinky, puffiness, she can tell that those are her father’s eyes.

“Hello, Samuel,” YN utters out the words with as much professionalism as she can, almost as if she were interviewing him for a prestigious job. 

“I’m—I’m so glad you were able to make it.” The older man huffs out a laugh of disbelief as he runs a nervous hand over his thinning hair; his clean, combed and styled hair. 

When Harry sees his love swallow thickly from uncomfortableness, he extends an outreached hand, “Hello, m’Harry. It’s nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Barlowe.”

YN just stands with her hand still clasped in his as the older couple shakes her boyfriend’s hand. 

“Please, please come inside.” Della steps aside and opens the door wider. 

YN can feel her skin tingle by the feel of her father’s eyes on her and she hates the way she’s having trouble meeting his eyes.

It’s an uncomfortable experience walking through the spacious house, everything clean and neat that it almost looks like no one has ever lived in it before. The couches and decorative carpets are white and aesthetically minimal, grand chandeliers hanging in every room they pass and a kitchen that looks like it’s never been used. She almost feels the need to take off her shoes in fear of leaving a mark on the perfectly clean titles. 

As YN looks around the museum-like house, she quickly looks down at the feeling of Harry giving their intertwined hands a reassuring squeeze. Even if he can’t do anything about her situation, she appreciates the fact that he’s letting her know that he’s here with her for any support she needs. 

Once the group sits down on the patio outside, YN almost jumps in her seat when two women with white aprons come out with trays ready for their tea. 

Della and Samuel move in sync with one another as they drink their tea. They might as well be robots, lifting their white tea cups with such delicateness and gently dabbing their cloth napkin around their lips precisely three times. It’s borderline scary, like a jumpscare out of a horror movie was bound to pop out any minute. 

But she has to admit, Della isn’t a stuck up monster as she initially thought upon meeting her at the front door. She’s actually a very sweet woman who smiles at her husband with so much love in her eyes.

YN’s learned that her father was working as a janitor at a law firm company shortly after she and Penny left his life. There, he was inspired to go to law school and with some help from some people in the company, he was able to attend. He soon worked his way up to become a partner at the firm and the small company became bigger than anyone ever expected. He met Della in 2015 when she was working as the firm’s secretary and married a couple months into dating. 

“He would always stop by my desk and take from the lollipop bowl I had there. He would always ask me to go out with him and I kept telling him no—I honestly think it was because he liked my accent and I was playing hard to get.” Della whispers not so quietly and it makes a chuckle bubble out from YN’s throat. It puts a smile on Harry’s face to see his love more relaxed, not totally letting her guard down but enough for her shoulders to come down from their pinched position. 

“What made you change your mind?” YN questions with a sincere smile and takes a sip of her honey-induced tea.

“This guy—” Della playfully slaps her husband's chest. “Got in front of the whole office, guitar in hand and sang to me. Oh the name of the song is slipping from my mind...how did it go again?” Della snaps her fingers as she racks her brain. “Um... don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control...”

“I want a perfect body,” Samuel says along.

“I want a perfect soul,” YN finishes and looks down at her lap. “That's um, that’s Creep by Radiohead.”

“If m’not mistaken, that was one of the first songs I taught you how to play on the guitar.” Her father smiles and sits up straighter in his seat. 

“Yeah, you let me use your old Lancaster.” Harry sees the way her smile falters at the mention of the memory. YN was in middle school when her father showed an uncommon amount of kindness one day. It was the day she rummaged through the garage and found the pictures of her mum along with his old eclectic guitar. Instead of scolding her to not look through his old things, he sat down with her and showed her the simple cords to the song (thanks to the years of practice from Penny, she was able to pick up the melody pretty quickly). They smiled, laughed, and bonded. But like many things in her life, consistency crept its way back in.

Samuel saw sight of a picture of his deceased wife peeking out from YN’s hoodie pocket and a switch flicked inside him. He suddenly snatched the beautiful guitar and smashed it against the ground. After three swings, the base completely disconnected from the neck. He walked out without so much as another word and left YN panting, frozen in a state of fear and shock.

“I loved that guitar,” YN says softly and she’s back at avoiding his gaze. 

“I did, too. S’a shame I don’t have it anymore. Sold it to an old buddy of mine back in the day.” Samuel sighs out in disappointment and YN’s eyebrows quickly knit together. When she looks up at him in confusion, he sees him shake his head in reminiscence.

“Hey, maybe you should treat yourself and buy a new one, huh?” Della puts a hand on her husband’s arm with an encouraging smile. “There’s got to be a store somewhere that sells some.”

“Reckon’ you’re right, D.” Samuel smiles. While he leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek, Harry too leans over to his love. “That’s a great idea.”

“Baby, y’alright? Wha’s wrong?” Harry whispers.

“S’just that—”

“Okay, so I would hate to have you both feel uncomfortable about this and Sam warned me not to bring it up,” Della chuckles. “But before you two leave, would you guys mind signing a CD for my kids? They just love both of your music and they would absolutely die if they knew you guys were here without a little something.”

“You have children?” YN raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Two girls,” Della smiles brightly. “Sydney just got back from college—oh sorry, uni—last month and our little Abigail just turned the big 16 last week. We had a little surprise party for her and we invited all of her friends over. Oh, it was so much fun. And the cake was just so delicious—”

“Della, honey.” Samuel puts a gentle hand on his wife’s. “I think we’ve heard enough about the party—”

“I would actually love to hear more about it.” YN speaks up, straightening up her back and turning her full attention towards the older woman. 

“YN,” Harry whispers gently into his girlfriend and puts a comforting hand on the back of her chair.

Della nervously chuckles. "Oh, I don't know-"

“Please. Please, go on." YN insists. "Did you bake the cake yourselves? Did you spend all night the day before preparing little snacks for all of her friends, too? Did you guys buy her a sentimental gift? Samuel?”

YN gives her father an expected look, patiently waiting for his answer as he squirms in his seat. He nervously coughs into his hands before saying, “Um, we uh...well she just got her license not too long ago so we um...we put some money together to buy her a car.”

Della shifts her gaze back and forth between her husband and his daughter as the tension begins to build up. She sees the way YN purses her lips together and nods. 

“She had been asking for one for so long and since it was a special occasion, Samuel wanted to do something nice.” Della reasons with a wavering smile. “I’m sure that Sam here did something just as special for you when you turned her age. What did he give you?”

Harry—all of them really—can see the way Della tries her best to lighten the mood but right now he knows that she should just stop talking altogether. 

“A slap across the face.” YN nods nonchalantly, not at all bothered by the horrific look on the older woman's face. “Yeh know, the kind where yeh least expect it and the force of it is just so strong that it actually knocks yeh off your feet. Makes you hear a little ringing sound, too. Isn't that right, Samuel?”

Della looks over to her husband as he furrows his eyebrows and as much as Harry hates to admit it, the resemblance she has with her father’s current expression is undeniable. 

“I’m sorry,” Samuel shakes his head as he clears his throat. “I actually have no idea what you are referring to.”

The wind immediately gets knocked out from YN’s chest and if it wasn’t for Harry’s hand on her back, she’d think she was dreaming.

“M’sorry whot?” She scoffs. “So you’re telling me that you don’t remember the reason I left home?”

“Yeh went on to become a world famous singer. I always knew you would someday.” 

Harry can feel the anger radiating off her body as her father lies right through his teeth. Till this day, she can still hear his drunken words slurred to her:

You’re a waste of space.

Yeh think you’re gonna make it as a singer? You’re pathetic. 

You’re not worth it.

Just as Harry mentally (and almost physically) prepares himself from standing in between his girlfriend and her father when she goes off on him, he’s taken back when she lets out a laugh. She’s laughing. Her eyes squeezed shut with one hand over her stomach and the other over her mouth.

“Why is that funny?” Della looks around at the people surrounding the table.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” YN says in between giggles. “But that’s the biggest load of shit v’ever heard. So you’re saying that yeh don’t remember all of those years of yelling at me? Yelling at Penny? Drinking excessively? Breaking things violently in front of me? Hitting me?”

“Enough!” The loud bang to the table and the movement of the fine china startles everyone as Samuel’s voice booms throughout the patio space. “I invite you into me house to try to rekindle our past, to heal wounds and move on yet you bring up with shite?”

“Rekindle our past? Dunno how you expected to do that when you can’t even be honest about what yeh did to me! And heal wounds? Hate to break it to yeh Samuel, but those wounds aren't wounds anymore. They’re scars now. Already patched up and healed with no help from you.” YN lets out a small chuckle to herself before shaking her head. “I don’t know why I even came here. Della, you seem like a smart woman so I would advise yeh to have a little chat with your husband because he clearly isn’t the man that you know. Thank you for the tea.” And with that, YN’s chair screeches against the pavement before standing up.

“So that’s it?” Samuel spits. “And you? Harry, you’ve barely spoken a word since yeh got here.”

“How believe me, I have plenty to say,” Harry bites back as he stands up and puts a protective hand on YN’s back. “But out of respect for the love of my life, all m’gonna say is that you’re a piece of shit, man.” 

“Get the hell out of me house!” Samuel yells as he abruptly stands from his seat, the metal chair falling loudly to the ground behind him and he points towards the door.

“Glady.” YN scoffs and once Harry intertwines his hand with hers, they make their way out of the house. 

It’s a known fact that throughout the years of the two being in the public eye, they’ve been media trained to be the sweetest people they can be towards anyone they meet. Harry has been portrayed for years as a ‘bad boy’ who's never done anything bad and YN the ‘good girl’ with permanent innocence. It’s been rumored around the fandom since the band started that as sweet and soft spoken as they come off for their jobs, when they get mad—they get furious. So while many fans think it’s one of the many delusion based fandom-facts, no one has truly seen how scary the two can become when they get angry. 

“Wait!” The couple turns around to find Della quickly making her way over to their car but the two ignore her calling as Harry proceeds to open her door. “YN, please!”

With an annoyed look to her love and a sigh, YN relecutaly turns around, “Whot?”

“I’m so, so sorry about what happened back there. I had no idea he had done those awful things to you. If-if I would have known...”

It doesn’t take long for it to all click in YN’s head. Her expression softens as she recognizes the look in the woman’s eyes from a mile away. 

“You don’t know about me past.” She tilts her head to find Della’s eyes. “But you have experienced it, haven’t you?”

Harry’s surprised by the bold assumption, but when he flicks his gaze over to the prestigious woman, his heart strings pull greater than they have ever before.

“I don’t know what happened.” The older woman brings a shaky hand to her mouth as her eyes begin to water. “It first started shortly after we got married all those years ago. He was nothing like that when we met.”

“What I said back there is true. You are a smart woman. You know what to do. Think about your girls. They deserve the world, not this. Don’t let them go through what we did.” She surprises herself by wrapping her arms around the older woman, Della is quick to reciprocate. The hug doesn’t last longer than a couple of seconds,

but it was somehow something they both needed. So as she watches the couple drive away, Della is left with a truth she pushed back facing years in the making.

...

No matter how many years they’ve been working together, writing songs together and making music side by side, Harry still manages to get nervous showing her his work. But this isn’t any kind of love song he’s written about her in the past. This was on a deeper level of intimacy between them. This isn’t just about himself or his feelings of longing and loving towards her, but of her past.

He taps his leather journal in his open palm, gathers his tin container and with a deep breath in, he makes his way over to her where she’s seated in his backyard. In the middle of his closed-off yard, she’s sitting on a blanket he put out earlier, a guitar in her hands as she mindlessly plucks pretty melodies from the wired strings.

He leans down to press a kiss on her exposed shoulder before lifting the spaghetti strap of her dress back up and plopping down next to her. She easily flicks open the lid from the container and she smiles at the sight of a lighter and the familiar rolled up substances. 

“Romantic dinner for two, Mr. Styles?” She pauses her movements when he puts a hand on top of hers and she looks up at him expectantly.

“I uh, before we get into it, I actually wanted to share something with you first.” YN notices the familiar journal in his lap and gives him a cheeky smile.

“Another love song about meh? M’starting to think you fancy me.” When she notices his knowing look, she gives him a closed lipped smile. “Sorry, go ahead.”

When she sets down her guitar, he reaches out and takes into his lap instead. She’s pleasantly surprised by his actions. He usually writes on piano as his choice of instrument and feels the butterflies start to flap their wings in anticipation of what’s to come.

He leans over himself to make sure his fingers are placed correctly over the strings and right as he’s about to begin, he stops, “Don’t make fun of me, alright? M’still practicing.”

She laughs and grabs a hold of his chin as she plants a sweet kiss to his lips, “Promise I’ll keep my opinions to myself.” Her giggle is muffled when he pulls her back in for another kiss but sits back and patiently waits until he’s ready. 

With a final deep breath in, his fingers begin to pluck beautifully. He still needs a little finer tuning on his part but he’s doing a wonderful job so far. 

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels.

YN tilts her head at the lyrics but lets him continue on.

Nothing 'bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now.

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal.

It’s been a few days after the visit to go see her father and after crying and venting to her mum about what happened, the couple hasn’t brought the topic up since. 

You don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up, mmhm

There’s still so much she’s holding onto, so much still sitting on her chest that she's still unable to let go of. But Harry knows her more than anyone and understands her love language right down to the T: music.

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

YN lets out a watery chuckle at the book reference, the one she loved so dearly as a child.

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead insidе.

You showed me a power that is strong еnough to bring sun to the darkest days.

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind.

“This song was inspired by an experience YN and I had with a mutual friend—a person who we disguised as Matilda by Roald Dahl.” Harry explains from his interview chair for the Harry’s House documentary. The couple agreed without a doubt that they wouldn’t fully explain that the song was about YN. They usually never do but the song speaks for itself. “I played it to a couple of friends and all of them cried. So I was like, ‘Okay, I think this is something to pay attention to.’”

You don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own.

It shocks YN to realize that while she went through this part of her life by herself, she wasn’t alone. Ten years ago, YN gained brothers, a family consisting of the boys, her managers, tour and production crew, and the fans. She had a family by her side this entire time and she didn’t even register in her mind. 

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

As soon as he plays the last note, YN quickly shuffles on her knees over to him and wraps him up in her arms. She digs her face into the crook of his neck as he grips onto her shoulder blades, pulling her incredibly closer to him as he can. 

“People have so much guilt with things that they don't necessarily need to have guilt with sometimes. I think it's your right to protect the space around you and be protective of yourself and look after yourself.” 

“I’m sorry you went home to that.”

YN shakes her head reassuringly and takes his face in her hands. She’s been crying so much lately that she’s surprised that she hasn’t run out by now. She has so much love for the man in front of her. She was serious about before: she’s never felt this way about anyone ever before. YN presses her lips lovingly to his. “You are my home, Harry.”

Her favorite dimpled smile appears on his face and she presses her forehead to his. 

“You are my home, YN.” He says before pulling her back into him for more kisses.

“I think this song is going to touch a lot of people. It speaks to so many who’ve gone through toxic family members in their lives, people who weren’t loved in the way that they should have been loved,” YN gives the interview camera a sad smile. “S’a powerful one, this one.”

Back in the studio, YN can be seen in the recording room sitting in front of a Casio piano. With her chunky studio headphones on she plays along to Harry’s voice singing in her ears. 

Oh, there's a long way to go,

I don't believe that time will change your mind.

She can’t help but tuck in her lips in an attempt to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. 

In other words

I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go.

YN takes in a shaky breath and closes her eyes as her fingers continues to press on the keys.

You can let it go.

In a cathartic way, she finally releases the bands that she kept from her past. She lets go of her abusive father and the power he held over her for all of those years. She lets go of her biological mother’s name and accepts that she was never her, she’s her own person. She lets go of the guilt of leaving home, of leaving Penny—of leaving her mum there with her father for two more years and lets gratefulness seep in for the fact that her mum isn’t in that position anymore. 

But most importantly, she lets go of the nasty feeling her father soaked her in. 

She’s not pathetic, she’s brave. She’s not worthless, but worthy. She’s not a waste of space, she lights up the room with her golden light.

Taglist:

“It’s a weird one, because with something like this, it’s like, ‘I want to give you something, I want to support you in some way, but it’s not necessarily my place to make it about me because it’s not my experience.’” Sometimes it’s just about listening.” Harry sneaks a discreet peek at his teary-eyed girlfriend from her seat somewhere behind the camera. “I hope that’s what I did here. If nothing else, it just says, ‘I was listening to you.’”

Next song here! 🇬🇧

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