#we have a rough series of events but next to no details on how much time happened between them

[theoriginalcrossjumper]

current mood: repeatedly banging my head into the wall because of animes that have Major Important Events happening over the span of decades before the "main story" even starts, but have NO ACTUAL OFFICIAL TIMELINE for when these Major Important Events ACTUALLY HAPPEN, forcing you to dive SO DEEP into reddit pages (and manga panels and anime screenshots and wiki pages and character data booklets) that you wind up with a master's degree in that anime JUST so you can piece together what MIGHT be a semi-viable timeline of historical events in the show that STILL has holes in it because the actual show decided "timeline? what timeline? we work on dramatic timing alone lol" was a reasonable organizational method.

if this seems very pointed and specific, it's BECAUSE IT IS.

[dindjarindiaries]

Broken Wings - Chapter 1

summary: You meet Clone Force 99 when they fall into the same helpless situation as yourself, and you quickly find yourself getting tied up more and more with them—and their sergeant.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: strangers to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, loss of limb, trauma, eventual/mild smut, eventual pregnancy, canon character death, canon compliant

note: this story will follow tbb canon events, but quotes and other details will not always be 100% accurate to maintain originality

word count: 5.468k

series masterlist ⟹ next

chapter 1 ⟹

It was the sudden commotion that finally got you to lift your head from where it’d been tucked towards your chest. You reopened your eyes and focused your gaze on anything other than the leg you had stretched out in front of you as you listened closely to whatever was happening behind you.

“Wrecker, attempting to resist at this stage is not only ineffective, but also unwise.” The speaker’s voice was calm and pointed, despite the fact they were clearly a new captive of the same Zygerrians who had also taken you from the wreckage of your ship.

“I don’t care!” This voice was much rougher. Your brow furrowed as you kept listening to the exchange. “They can’t stop me from—.”

He was cut off by the sound of both crackling electricity and his own exclamation of pain. You huffed to yourself and shook your head, even as the weight of the device around your own neck grew heavier. Guess they can stop you.

“Take it easy, Wrecker.” There was another new voice, but this one was oddly familiar—though that may have been its low, smoky tone enticing you. “You need to save your energy.”

The next voice was unmistakable. “Yeah, and keep us from getting punished on your behalf.”

A clone. They’re clones.

Your eyes doubled in size, and your heart began to race inside your hollow chest. How could he have already sent a group of clone troopers after you? There was no possible way he had found you. You had made sure of it.

And, of course, the Zygerrians were taking this group of clones right over to the vacant space at your side. You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a deep breath. Even if this was the end of your short road to freedom, you wouldn’t be letting them know how much it affected you.

“We’ve tolerated enough of your noise,” the Zygerrian that had been leading the group sneered at them. “Now keep quiet, or else.”

The rough voice you had heard, the one they called Wrecker, spoke up again. “Or else what?”

The sound of electricity and his own pain rang out again, along with the frustrated groans of his fellow troopers. You couldn’t help chuckling to yourself, despite the circumstances. This group of clones he had sent after you couldn’t even evade capture from a rogue group of Zygerrians.

Not that you could, either, but you had been unconscious when they found you. You didn’t even have a chance to fight them.

The Zygerrian walked away, joining those who stood guard around you. Their threat didn’t keep the group of clones from speaking, though they at least lowered their voices enough to keep their conversation more private. “Well, this is great,” the clone whose voice you had immediately recognized grumbled. “What do you think are our chances of getting out of this mess, Tech?”

“Seeing as I do not have the kind of data required to make a sound conclusion… I do not know.” The first voice you heard sounded nothing more than annoyed and curious.

Maybe it was the loneliness of sitting here for stars know how long or the madness of knowing you had been caught so quickly, but either way, you were the one to offer a response. “They’re low.” You narrowed your eyes, but still refused to look in their direction. “Especially if I get my hands on you.”

There was only stunned silence for a few heartbeats, but Tech recovered quickly enough to break it. “And what exactly have we done to earn such a threat from you?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Come on. You’re clones.” At least, one of them was. The others sounded similar enough for you to conclude they all were. “I know he sent you here.”

There was no silence in response to your words this time. There was only that smoky voice from before, uttering a single word that was genuine enough to make you question every preconceived notion you had just conjured up about these men. “Who?”

With a sigh, you finally turned your head to look at them. Immediately, you were struck by how different they all were. Their armor was mostly black instead of white, and it was painted with accents of red. You could tell they were all clones, but they still looked vastly different from one another, just as their voices had been. Your stare, however, was drawn to only one of them, the one who had just spoken.

Your heart started to race for a very different reason.

He had the familiar face of the clones, but every feature was sharper and more defined. Half his face was covered by a skull tattoo, and he had grown out his dark hair enough for him to need a bandana to hold most of it back—aside from a few pieces that framed his face. His brown eyes were nearly golden in this light, sparkling with both concern and intrigue as they focused on you.

You blinked a few times. He was handsome, very handsome, and it was the last thing you needed right now.

You willed the words to come, and after a few more moments, they did. “You really don’t know who I’m talking about?”

“Not unless it’s Cid.” Wrecker’s lame attempt at a hushed tone drew your gaze over to him. He was almost double the size of his fellow troopers, and the scarred skin around his whitened eye proved that he was no stranger to battle. The deep, dramatic gasp he took was a stark contrast to his otherwise tough exterior. “Do you think she could be Muchi?”

Tech spoke before you could, his chained hands pushing his goggles further up his nose as he did so. “Considering Cid made it clear that Muchi is an adolescent, I highly doubt it. Though…” his gaze flickered upward in consideration, “I suppose Cid seems old enough to perceive anyone younger than herself as a ‘kid.’”

You frowned. “I’m not a kid, and I’m not Muchi.”

The fourth member of their group, one who looked the most like the other clones you knew, returned your grimace, his eyes narrowed. “Then who are you, and who’s after you?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d ever tell you that.”

The one with the face tattoo gave you a softer look. His eyes were full of understanding, and while it was unnerving for him to see through you like this, it was also somewhat comforting. “Is there at least something we can call you for now?”

You thought for a moment, though the nickname came quickly: your callsign from the piloting academy. “Birdie.”

He nodded, and you could have sworn there was the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Well, Birdie, we’re not after you. We’re looking for someone named Muchi.”

The regular clone snapped his head towards this one. His voice was a low warning. “Hunter…”

Hunter. So far, these names of theirs seemed to have a significance that matched up with their personalities, and the sound of this one tied a knot of thick dread within your chest. It would make sense for him to send some kind of “hunter” clone after you.

Hunter offered his fellow trooper a reassuring nod. “Echo, it’s fine.” He rattled the chain that linked them together. “We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

You tightened your jaw. “I’m not gonna help you take someone against their will.” You looked down and added the next part under your breath. “Especially on behalf of the Empire.”

“We are not affiliated with the Empire.” You looked back up after Tech spoke, your brow furrowed. He took that as an invitation to continue, though his topic shift also took you aback. “What happened to your leg?”

You didn’t look at your leg as you tucked it underneath you the best you could. You barely bit back your whimper as it reignited the fiery pain that had long since been throbbing within it from your knee down. “It’s fine.”

You caught Hunter’s eye at just the right moment, seeing him level you with a glance that was both concerned and curious. You immediately shifted your focus back onto Tech.

“What do you mean you’re not with the Empire?” You shook your head. “All the clones are.”

Echo lifted his chin. He was the only one matching your defiant energy, and you liked that. “Not us.”

You gave him a half a smile, but before you could respond, Wrecker attempted another whisper in Hunter’s direction. “Hey, Sarge.” He jerked his head towards something overhead.

Your brow raised at his title. Hunter being their leader made sense, based on his calming aura and authoritative presence alone, but you were way more curious about what you were seeing than his position within this small squad.

There was a young girl scaling some of the rock structures surrounding the Zygerrians’ base, wearing similar colors to the clones themselves. Wisps of her short blonde hair fell around her face as she paused to wave in the clones’ direction, her brown eyes lit up with determination. 

You glanced back down at the squad just as Hunter gave her a subtle shake of his head. There was a look in his eye that you had never seen someone direct towards you, something that made his aura even more oddly comforting: protectiveness.

“Who’s that?” You couldn’t keep the question to yourself. The idea of rogue clones running around the galaxy with a young girl made little sense to you.

Hunter’s voice was filled with the same protectiveness you had seen as he spoke, though there was also an unmistakable layer of warmth. “She’s one of ours.”

The smile was impossible to keep off your lips as you caught both the fondness and the concern he had for her. It was reflected in the faces of the other clones, too, but there was something about Hunter’s tone specifically that had nearly been paternal.

You were getting way too curious about this group of clones.

Hunter finally looked around his squad. “She shouldn’t be here.”

Tech tilted his head. “Well, she is currently our best option at getting out of this… situation.”

“And finding Muchi,” Wrecker added.

Your mind suddenly flooded with dozens of questions that you wanted to ask them, specifically about whoever this Muchi person was that they were looking for, but you bit your tongue. If you somehow did manage to get out of this situation, you were taking the first ship you could find and getting the hell out of there. The less you knew about these clones, the better.

The girl was still making her best stealth approach when she suddenly slid, causing a few pieces of crumbled rock to hit the ground. The Zygerrians were alert, but before their heads could fully turn and investigate the situation, Wrecker spoke in a much louder tone than before. “You better get me out of these chains right now!”

The Zygerrians’ stares fell on him, and they exchanged a few amused looks before one of them stood forward. “And why is that?”

“Because.” Wrecker’s tone was threatening, and if you hadn’t gotten a hint of who he was underneath this guise, you would honestly be terrified. “I’ll lose it if you don’t. And you don’t wanna see what happens when I lose it.”

The Zygerrian frowned and started to open their mouth, but they were cut off as a commotion broke out near one of their giant crates. You looked, and your heart sank as you saw the young girl caught in the arms of two Zygerrians. Even if you didn’t really know her, it still sickened you to think of someone like her being captured by these kinds of people.

One look at the clone troopers told you exactly how they felt about it. Every single one of their faces were hardened in hardly-concealed fury.

Especially Hunter’s.

“Let me go!” The girl’s voice was strong and defiant, as were the kicks and tugs she gave them. You smiled at her, recognizing pieces of yourself in her.

“‘Atta girl,” you mumbled underneath your breath. “Give them hell.”

That made Hunter glance in your direction. You furrowed your brow, returning his stare with confusion. There was no possible way he had heard what you said.

“This is what you get for sneaking around,” one of the Zygerrians sneered at the girl.

“I wasn’t sneaking.” The girl held up her hand, showing them what was in her palm. It was a metal rod with a curved end. “I was unlocking.”

That’s when the cage she was near suddenly flew open, and your jaw dropped as a rancor ran out of it full-force. It roared into the sky before flinging the nearest Zygerrians aside.

“All right, now I’m gonna lose it!” Wrecker yelled the warning before pulling his bound hands apart, easily snapping the cuffs that had previously been restricting him.

Echo voiced the same thought you had. “You couldn’t have done that earlier?”

Wrecker answered only after he’d torn the device off his neck. “Not without backup!”

It was pure chaos. The clone troopers were making quick work of freeing themselves and retrieving their gear while the Zygerrians were attempting to fight off the rancor, which was quickly charging away. You were trying to craft your own escape plan, but in the back of your mind, there was a hindrance that continued to eat away at you.

Your leg definitely wasn’t fine, and you had no idea how you were going to get anywhere on it.

Echo knelt down beside you and nodded. “I can get these off for you.”

Your brow shot up when he lifted an arm that had a flat-headed working tool on the end of it instead of a hand. Still, you nodded, refusing to miss an opportunity for freedom. Echo easily unlocked the chain and did the same to the device on your neck, returning your nod only once he had finished. He stood and went over to help the other captives, leaving you to figure out your leg situation on your own.

That was fine. You didn’t need people knowing about your weaknesses.

You took a deep breath and rubbed out your sore wrists before pressing your palms flat against the stone underneath you. Your uninjured leg attempted to support you on its own, but as you pushed yourself upwards, you still needed help from the injured one—and it couldn’t provide it.

You tried to disguise your gasp of pain as a simple exhale, but you clearly hadn’t done a good enough job of it. One of the clones was kneeling by your side again, and when you gave them a quick glance, you realized it was Hunter. His helmet was now concealing his face, though its soft tilt was almost as comforting as his gaze had been before.

“I know you’re hurt.” Hunter’s modulated voice was low, meant to stay between the two of you. “At least let us help you get out of here, and then you can go off on your own. Okay?”

You blinked a few times in shock, only nodding once you had recovered. Any of the words you would’ve said were lost deep inside your throat. You hadn’t realized there were people like this in the galaxy, who would offer their help without expecting anything in return.

Maybe you should’ve remained skeptical, but the chaos of the situation and the pain in your leg was making it difficult to think straight—as was Hunter’s proximity.

And his touch, which was now settling on your arm as he slung it over his armored shoulders. He took practically all your weight as he helped you to your feet, and you put on your bravest face as you attempted to straighten out your bad leg. Hunter’s visor was carefully watching your every move.

“You okay?”

You were still so stunned by him and the amount of kind concern he was showing you. Your voice was breathless when you finally found it again. “Yeah.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

Hunter returned your nod before he started to crutch you over to where the rest of his squad was waiting, including the young girl. She was giving you a delightfully curious once-over, even if her furrowed brow was telling a different story. She was quick to speak as you and Hunter approached.

“Are you okay?” The girl frowned. “Did they do something to you?”

You couldn’t help chuckling lightly at her concern. It was easy to tell she had picked up the troopers’ sense of protectiveness. “I’m fine. Just a bad leg.” You willed the strength to stand on your own as you looked over at Hunter and nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

Hunter helped you ease your arm off him. “You don’t have to thank me, and we’re not done yet.” It was difficult to stand on your own, but you did it and managed to keep any evidence of pain hidden away as the sergeant went on. “Echo, Omega, you help these people get to safety. Wrecker, Tech, and I will get Muchi.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “Wait, the rancor is Muchi?”

Echo’s helmet snapped in your direction. “That’s what I said!”

Hunter drew one of the blasters from his holster. “Let’s get going.”

You glanced down at your feet, trying not to focus on your awkward-looking leg. This was likely the last time you were going to see Hunter and the two others who were going with him, and you wouldn’t get to say goodbye.

You were getting way too lonely on the run.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech darted forward, leaving you with Echo, the young girl Omega, and the other former captives. You looked up to meet Echo’s stare through his helmet.

“Are you okay to walk, Birdie?” Echo asked you.

Probably not. “Yeah, I can handle it.”

“Birdie? I love that name!” Omega smiled up at you. “Nice to meet you, Birdie.”

You beamed down at her. “You too, Omega.” You gestured with your head back towards the Zygerrians’ encampment. “You’re very brave, you know.”

She grinned from ear-to-ear. “Thank you. My brothers have been teaching me a lot.”

You would’ve knelt down to her level if you trusted your body enough, but you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head at her. “Bravery can’t be taught.”

“I hate to break up the moment,” Echo interjected, “but we’ve gotta get moving.” He nodded towards the distance. “I see some speederbikes we can get you all loaded on.”

He led the way, as did Omega beside him. You decided to hold up the rear of the pack, knowing that your slower pace with your leg would hold them up. It was manageable for a time, but not for much longer.

You had just made it to the speederbikes when the sound of commotion caught your attention. You tensed and looked where Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech had gone, your chest constricting when you realized they weren’t together anymore.

Instead, Hunter was alone with a Zygerrian. Every instinct within you cried out to help him, if only to truly thank him for his kindness. You relented.

“Echo,” you called, watching as the trooper’s helmet turned towards you. “Save a bike for me.”

“Where are you going?”

You had already started to back away. “I’ll be right back!”

With that, you were on your way over, hopping awkwardly as you tried your best to run with your leg. The adrenaline was masking the pain for now, and that’s all that mattered. The closer you got, however, the more you realized you really weren’t suited to help Hunter in this fight. You had no weapons, thanks to them all being stripped from you by the Zygerrians, and you could barely stand on your own two feet.

But if you’d learned anything about yourself, it’s that you would always find a way, no matter what.

You leaned down on your good leg and swiped up a large rock, giving it a small toss inside your hand before you reached back and slung it forward. It connected with the side of the Zygerrian’s head, making him trip over a few steps as he clutched the now-bleeding wound.

“Birdie?” Hunter’s voice caught your attention, drawing your gaze over to where he was recovering from the Zygerrians’ shock. A golden whip was still wrapped around his wrist, but what struck you—and stuck with you—was the concern in his voice as he called for you.

The protectiveness.

You weren’t given much time to relish in it. The Zygerrian had recovered quickly, and he had also taken note of the worry in Hunter’s voice. He withdrew his whip from Hunter’s wrist and shot it in your direction, and if the pain of its contact with your bad leg wasn’t enough to make you see nothing but black, the shock he sent through it certainly was.

Everything was a blur after your body hit the dirt. You didn’t regain consciousness for an alarming amount of time, but there were faint glimpses you remembered, almost dreamlike in your fragile state. You had been picked up and carried somewhere else before you were set down again. The problem was that you didn’t know who you had ended up with.

When your full awareness returned, your survival instincts made you assume the worst.

You sat up and reached for your empty holster. You cursed, remembering your lost weapons, and tried to find a nearby object to use. The action alerted the nearest silhouette, who spun around in a chair to face you.

“You’re awake.” Hunter’s voice was much calmer than it had been the last time you heard it. You kept your wide eyes focused on him, willing your heaving chest to settle. Hunter noticed, raising his hands in surrender and standing as he gave you a nod. “It’s okay, Birdie. You’re safe.”

You lifted your chin to hide the hard swallow you took and let your gaze scan the area. “Where am I?”

Hunter used one of his raised hands to gesture to the space around him. “Our ship.”

It was certainly a ship made and used for battle. This was the inside of an attack shuttle, with a cockpit at the front and a weapons station at the back—which was curiously half-closed off with a curtain and furnished with blankets. Hunter was still standing by some kind of console with a large vidscreen, which was near the bunk you had been set upon.

“It’s called the Marauder.” You looked down as Omega joined the conversation, her smile just as bright as it had been before. She stood at Hunter’s side, respecting your boundaries the same way Hunter was. “It’s our home.”

Your mouth went dry at the sound of that word. You had certainly strayed far from your own home, if all had gone according to plan. You set your attention back on Hunter and kept your tense shoulders set. “Where are you taking me?”

Hunter’s brow furrowed as he gave his head a small shake. “Nowhere. We’re just on the other side of the planet.” He ran a gloved hand over his hair. “I’m sorry we couldn’t ask you if that was okay first, but we figured you’d be heading to the spaceport, anyway.”

You relaxed at that, exhaling a relieved breath before offering him a small nod. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me here.” With your adrenaline beginning to fade, you were starting to feel the aches and pains of the day full-force, causing you to run your fingertips along your forehead as you exhaled a heavy breath. “What happened? Did you get Muchi?”

“Yeah, Wrecker put her to sleep.” Omega was buzzing with enthusiasm as she beamed towards the ship’s open hatch. “I think she’s starting to wake up, though.”

Hunter sighed at that. His hands were set on his hips as he looked at the hatch over his shoulder. “We have to get her to Cid’s.”

Your lips tightened. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Hunter’s stare returned to you. He gave you a brief once-over. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

There it was, the note of genuine concern in both his eyes and his tone that made the tips of your ears burn. You deflected the warmth it brought you with a huff as the memory of your last conscious moment rushed over you. “Yeah, I wasn’t much of a help in that fight, was I?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened at your self-deprecating words. “Actually, your sacrifice gave me the perfect window to take him out.” He nodded at you. “I should be thanking you for your help.”

You blinked a few times in surprise. The warmth of his gaze made yours fall, forcing you to encounter your injured leg. Your brow shot up when you realized it had been secured in a tight wrap.

“Tech helped me with that.” You looked back up at Hunter as he spoke. “We were trying to figure out what was wrong with it. I think he got it, but… well, you’d be better off asking him.” Hunter gestured with his head to the open hatch. “Researching is his hobby.”

You huffed, the corners of your mouth pulling up in a small smile. “I appreciate it.”

Your smile faltered as you watched your fingers run over the wrapping on your leg. This would be another favor you owed someone, another debt that would have to be paid, and you refused to be in that situation again. It didn’t matter how kind these clones seemed. You wouldn’t, and couldn’t, let yourself be in someone’s debt again.

Hunter took a cautious step forward, drawing your gaze up to him again. He set a hand on Omega’s shoulder, wordlessly dismissing her as she headed towards the open hatch. “Is it bothering you?” Hunter gestured to your leg before crossing his arms over his chestplate.

He was even more distractingly handsome up close.

You shook your head. “No.” You straightened your leg, still sitting on the bunk as you did so. “It feels a lot better, actually.”

Hunter nodded, though his brow furrowed at you. He shifted his weight before he spoke again. “What happened to it?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Your gaze darted around the small space in consideration, your fingers mindlessly brushing over the fresh wrap. When you gained the courage to meet his stare again, the golden flecks within his eyes convinced you to speak the truth.

“My ship crashed.” You gave your head an aimless shake. “That’s all I know. The impact knocked me out right away, and when I woke, I was with the Zygerrians.”

Hunter’s gaze softened, though he kept the rest of his body rigid as his jaw ticked. “So, you’re out a ship.”

You let out a mirthless chuckle and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Hunter’s gloved fingers tapped his upper arms rhythmically. After a long pause, he dared to ask his next question. “Did whoever’s after you make you crash?”

Your chest inflated with a breath that you held until your lungs burned. Hunter was an easy person to trust, despite his otherwise gruff persona, but even he couldn’t get this information out of you. Not now.

You finally pushed yourself off the bunk, surprising yourself with how easily you were able to stand on both your legs. Hunter seemed just as shocked, his arms lowered back to his sides as if he’d been preparing to catch you. You gestured with your head to the open hatch. “Don’t you have to go to this Cid person’s place?”

Hunter circled his jaw before nodding. “Yeah. Can’t keep her waiting long.” Still, he made no move for the hatch, instead inhaling a steady breath before adding more. “She has refreshments there, if you want to grab something before moving on.”

You crossed your arms and let your lips curl up in another smile. You traded your caution and fear for amusement and confidence as you raised your brow at him. “Is that an invitation, Sergeant?”

Hunter’s shoulders straightened as his stare met yours again. You enjoyed the faint flush that painted his cheeks, even though he tried to deflect it with a quiet chuckle. “Only if you want Tech to talk to you non-stop about your injury, and Omega to ask you a thousand questions about your life story.”

You looked towards the hatch, seeing the rest of Hunter’s crew standing outside with Muchi. Omega was laughing as Wrecker set her upon the rancor’s back, and the creature was beaming at the group that had somehow made her feel safe enough to stay calm, despite her wild nature. Maybe if the rancor could let herself feel safe with them, then you could, too.

“What the hell.” You let your arms fall back to your sides as you stepped towards the hatch. “I’m sure he won’t catch up to me in a standard hour.” You brushed past Hunter and smiled to yourself. “And even if he could, I’m too hungry to care.”

Hunter huffed at that, and you could hear him following you. You stopped, however, when you looked down at the stairs that separated you from the ship and the ground. Your leg was stronger, but this would prove to be a challenge for it, and you weren’t keen on falling down hard enough to knock yourself out for a third time today.

Then came the gentle touch on your elbow. “Go ahead, Birdie.” Hunter's low voice was calming from behind you. “I’ve got you.”

For a moment, you were overwhelmed by a rush of unprecedented warmth from head-to-toe, accompanied by an explosion of sparkling glimmers within your stomach. You took a deep breath to combat the foreign feeling and nodded to acknowledge Hunter’s reassurance before stepping down. It was easier than you thought it would be, but Hunter’s gentle grasp on your elbow still worked wonders in helping to keep you steady.

“Birdie!” Omega waved from Muchi’s back once your boots hit the hangar’s floor. “Are you coming with us?”

You laughed at her. “Only if I get a meal out of it.”

The rest of the group had already turned to you, and you found yourself stiffening out of instinct. Tech’s gaze was fixed pointedly on your leg as he pushed his goggles further up his nose, while Wrecker was laughing at your comment about food. Echo was the only other cautious one, though you couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him for that. He raised an eyebrow at you before shifting his gaze to Hunter behind you.

“It is good to see you have made a recovery,” Tech said, breaking the brief moment of tense silence. “Though your vitals were stable, I was uncertain you had enough strength to rouse so quickly.”

You set your jaw and hung your hands on your hips. “I have plenty of strength.”

Tech tilted his head. “Clearly.” He pointed at your leg. “Though we have yet to test the strength of your leg, which seems to be in poor shape. I can provide you with a more detailed briefing about it once we arrive at Cid’s.”

You just nodded, too stunned by his straightforwardness to say anything. The weight of Hunter’s stare drew your gaze over to him, and you caught his amused smile as he gestured to Tech with his head. “Told you.” He then looked at his squad and raised his voice loud enough for him to be heard by everyone. “Let’s get going.”

The squad obeyed, and you stayed close to Hunter as the group headed out of the hangar. It was strange to find yourself among them, a group of strangers who were becoming more and more familiar, but you were comfortable in their presence. Even the thought of leaving them in a standard hour’s time or so was more saddening than you thought it would be.

But a brand-new start was awaiting you, and if there was one thing you learned about this galaxy, it was to always expect the unexpected.

series masterlist ⟹ next

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

broken wings tag list: @dindadjarin

[ja3hwa]

Day 27 : Hybrid - Yeosang

「Title」 : My Heart Is With The Sea

「Word count」 : 2.76k

-> Genre: Fantasy Au. Smut. Fluff. Angst. Comedy.

Paring: Pirate!Yeosang x Hybrid!Reader

[Warnings] : Warlock Hybrid Yeosang. Swearing. Gross drunk men. Mention of harassment. Hero Yeosang. Powers. Fire blades. Mention of a saloon. Old-timey words. Pet names. Saliva kink. Big dick Yeo. Sub reader. Dom Yeosang. Dirty talk. Details of the reader's body fitting into a curvy plus stature. Begging. Unprotected sex. Cumming inside. Slight breeding kink. Fingering. Yeosang is a cocky bitch. Mention of a Woosan relationship. Poly relationship mentioned. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: I made the reader Plus size since I've been feeling really shit about my body image so yee. Also, I wanted to write more but I've run out of time so if this gets good attention and people want more. I'll be more than happy to turn this into a min series. And I was making this a JongSan fic but again since I ran out of time I could do Jongho's scenes.

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar.

It was like any other day. The air was riddled with the smell of the salty sea that was just over the bend of the hill. Loud men filled your ears with drunken nonsense in between slurps of their ale. It wasn't even midday, but yet, at least twenty men were already on the floor. But you guess it's happy hour somewhere beyond the big blue.

You sigh, picking up three glasses before putting them on your tray and moving towards the bar in a swift motion in order to avoid creepy men's hands. Most didn't mean to play rough, but most men just have sticky fingers. You knew you'd get harassed because this is the type of job you got. And most of the time, it didn't phase you, but you knew it annoyed others more than you.

"You lay a hand on her again, and you will lose those fingers." Yeosang barked, picking up the drunk guy that was hunched on his chair by the shirt collar. Yeosang's free hand was held behind him but not out of the men's view. The whole table saw out a blade made of fire magically appeared in the shaggy-haired male. They were nothing but shitting their pants, feeling anxious about angering the warlock.

"We are sorry about our friend Sir Kang. Please forgive his foolish actions." One of the less drunken men at the table slurred. It was as if they all suddenly sobered up, feeling a tension simmer through the whole saloon.

"How about I punish you anyway. Just to prove a point." Yeo smirked, loving to see fear consume such pitiful excuses of humankind. They all jumped to their friends' defence, making the bar roar with loud shouting. You sighed, having lost the fun while watching the interaction. So you whistled loudly, getting everyone's attention, including your brooding Vaelock lover.

"Alright, ladies. You've had your fun. Now fuck off before I send word to the knights." And just like that, all the men from the table piled out through the front door in a hurry. They were like puppies running away with their tails between their legs. But you knew when the sun set by the next few hours, they'd be back. They always came back.

Yeosang dropped his power, fixing his jacket slightly before waltzing over to you with a sly smirk. It always made him feel power when he got to hurt or scare men, but it made him feel even more powerful when it was that he was protecting you. He leaned against the large dark oak bar while he watched you behind it, placing the empty and half-empty tall pint glasses into the wash-up tub. He just stood there for a moment, watching you with abortion in his eyes. He watched how your hair would fall in front of your face when you bent down for something. Or how you had tucked your shirt into your pants today. It sat nicely on your plump figure. And he can't let his eyes wander too much as they land on your lips. Your very kissable lips. The lips he loves so much, especially when they are wrapped around his co—

"You got such a staring problem." You mumbled with a small smile, making him suddenly look away with a blush painting his features.

"I do not." He feels slight embarrassment from his dirty thoughts only moments ago. At least you couldn't read minds. "I'll be off by the coming hour." He changed the subject.

"Off on another adventure." You sigh softly, feeling a little lump in your throat form. You knew his life was on the sea, but it always made you nervous when he left. The waves can be large and unforgiving. Just as the weather can be cruel. His life can easily be taken away, and it kept you up at night whenever he felt for the docks.

"Yes. Captain said he found some news on Atlantis city. If we find it, we will finally be able to be done with these wanted posters and outlaw crap." Yeosang spoke with only a small amount of distance in his tone. Like he was off in his own world. They had been looking for this cromer thing for months with the idea that they could get redemption from the kingdom of East Valley. And how did they disrespect the kingdom, you may ask...well, that was a very long story. But in the shortest way to put it, they angered the king.

And why might a king be mad at a group of immature pirates? Simple. They are pirates, and royalty just has something against the lower class, especially those who bend the rules and live out on the sea. And because San and Wooyoung slept with the Princess....at the same time...

They went to East Valley on a job. To find a cromer for this warlock, but in toe, figured out that the King was the one who had it stolen from the old wizard years and years ago. So they needed to get into the castle, grab it, and leave. Like they weren't ever there. But the Princess saw San and Wooyoung and when Seonghwa told them to keep her distracted, he didn't think they would fuck her...

"Wait... You are looking for Atlantis city?!" Your voice came out strained and uneasy. This caught Yeosangs attention, tilting his head in concern.

"Yes. I thought I told you months ago?"

"You said you were looking for a hidden kingdom. I couldn't have guessed Atlantis." You were worried. Anyone who goes looking for such a place nine out of ten turn up dead or go missing. Worry clouded your mind, feeling your breath quicken. Yeosang suddenly jumps the bar so he can stand next to you. His body heat melted your cold, anxious thoughts. He leant his head on top of yours, holding you tightly in his arms. He knew of your worry and how to beg for him to stay. And he felt guilty every time he left. But he loves the sea and wouldn't see a life without it. But he also couldn't see a life without you. He was stuck at a crossroads.

"I'll be safe. You know I will. Hwa is an excellent navigator. And the captain would never put us in danger for anything. We come first." His words made you feel better, slightly. He pulled away from you so he could look you in the eyes. They were filled with tears, just waiting to be let out. You didn't want to cry. But your emotions seemed to have other plans.

"Just promise me. Promise none of you will get hurt ..."

He had to chuckle at the fact you referenced everyone. You had grown close to his crew since the day you met. Yeosang obviously tried to keep you for himself for a while, but alas, the others also found interest in you. Little did they know you were actually bedded with Yeosang already.

"None of us will be in danger. I promise." He gave you a small kiss on your forehead. It was a moment of peace in his arms. Like the world had stopped. You were the first to pull away, putting down the bar rag and moving things around to keep your hands occupied. Yeosang chuckled at your flustered state, suddenly recalling the dirty thoughts he had prior. And then a new thought came to mind.

"You know..." He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of your pants before pulling your body back into his. Your back flushed against his chest he leaned down so his face could sit nicely in your neck. "I could go for a parting gift. Something for me to remember while out at sea."

Your face flushed red and you looked around the large opened room, thanking the gods that the only customers that were still in the bar were either passed out of too far to hear your lover's filth idea.

"I..." You were going to decline out of embarrassment, but then the idea simmered in your mind making your thigh clench at the thought. "My shift finishes in ten minutes."

He chuckled darkly at you, giving your neck a few kisses for saying. "You know where to find me." Leaving, you flustered while he walked out of the bar as if nothing just happened.

-

"Yeosang!!" You moaned feeling a slight burn at the twisted position you were in. Your legs were hung over his shoulders while he practically bent you in half as he pounded into you. His teeth grazed against your neck as his muscles tensed from the exertion. Your hands fly to find something to hold onto, gasping out moans as his hands find yours. His fingers lace with yours before pinning them to the mattress.

“I’ll make sure to fill your cup. So you are nice and full while I’m gone.” Yeosang grunted, feeling sweat beads form against his hairline.

You whine in response, his words weren't fully registering in your pleasured-filled mind. You were so lost in the grunts and pants he spilled into your ears as he pressed so deep, fucking into the perfect spot that had your thighs quivering on either side of his head. Your plump legs were dropped to a more comfortable position on his waist as he gripped your cheeks with his fingers. Your mouth opened instinctively as he pursed his lips, gathering saliva before spitting it in your mouth and smothering your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. Teeth clanking together from the punishing thrusts as his hips rutted yours.

“My pretty Darling. Mine… All of this is mine.” A sick smile curled his lips, goosebumps lining his skin when your shaky hands found their way up his chest and to his shaggy black hair. Fingers tangling in it as you blubbered incoherent words, a shift in his hips tensing your body and making your hands tug the sweat-dampened strands. He’s strained from the angle of his head being pulled back. The column of his neck looked as if it was begging to be marked up as you pulled him down to you, latching your lips to his pulse point and sucking harshly on the skin. His vulgar sounds vibrated against your mouth as his warm right hand slipped between your slick bodies to toy with your clit. Your back arches painfully at the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck Yeo... Please FUccckk.” You scream throwing your head back feeling Yeosang press sloppy circles to your sensitive bud while his thrusts suddenly lose their rhythm. He suddenly wanted to see your face, so, picking up his hand slightly he waved a finger in the air, making your hands tug off his hair within a second. You try to move your hands away from either side of your face but alas, his power that bands an invisible cuff around them made it impossible.

“Come on baby, whose cock is this, hmm?”

You mumble inaudibly over the wet sounds of skin slapping. His lips brushed over yours mixing his breath with yours. His hips snap forward, his thick cock ramming into a spot that got you seeing stars. His hand leaves leave your clit, one gripping your hip, bruising the soft curves while the other grabs a hand full of your large bust. “I asked you a question, Doll..”

 “Mine- mine, all mine-“ you finally cried out, words slurring together from the seemingly permanent fog that had settled over your mind. He finally let your hands free from his hold in a silent gesture for his next move.

“Prove it then.”

“I can’t- I- Yeo, please-“ you cry, tears pooling in your eyes while your fingers slip down to dig your nails into the skin of his shoulders. The stinging sensation only urged him to keep going while a shaky moan escapes his lips.

“You can do it, Darling. Take what’s yours.” He demanded, jaw clenched tight and pace faltering. Your ankles hooked together at the base of his back, heels digging into the spot to pull him impossibly deeper as you frantically rocked your hips against him along with his thrusts. Yeosang grunts in a pleased response, head dipping down to bite a mark to your shoulder as his cock twitched in your velvety walls. Your orgasm tore through you like a wildfire. Stealing the breath from your lungs and making your body convulse. His guttural moan was almost barely heard over the roaring in your ears as hot spurts of his cum filled you.

Your body was worn out when he slipped from between your shaking thighs. A soft whine pulled from your throat when you felt his middle and ring finger against your cunt, pressing the seed that had seeped from you back into your walls. Your overstimulated cunt already clenched around the digits and body fully reacting to the shocks of pleasure as he finger fucks you.

“Best parting gift ever,”

-

Yeosang ran over the dock as fast as his legs to take him. The ship was in sight, and his heartbeat finally could rest easy, knowing his captain wasn’t just going to up and leave him like he had been threatened in the past. His feet land on the familiar oak beauty. He spots his friends scattered around the deck, one in particular―a like blonde―shaking his head in annoyance.

“Next time we leave you.” The blonde shouts heading up to the stern deck where the wheel is. Yeosang just huffed out in response, turning his attention to the redhead and his feline-featured lover.

“So how was it?” Wooyoung giggled.

Yeosang choked looking dumbfounded. “What?!”

“You know. How was she? Or he. Or both. I don’t judge.”

“Shut up Wooyoung.” Jongho suddenly appeared from the captain's quarters fixing his overcoat slightly. “Don’t you have a kitchen to stock?”

Wooyoung went to reply with a snarky remark but San pulled him away with a small smile telling him to drop it. Yeosang shook his head slightly glancing over at the younger male. The ravened hair man waltzed over slowly, keeping his unreadable expression until he stood only centimetres away from him.

“She okay?” He spoke softly knowing exactly where he had been for the past couple of hours. Yeo had to chuckle at his words as sudden flashes of your fucked out expression and blissful moans echoed in his mind.

“Uh yeah. Last time I checked.” he couldn’t hide the smug smirk on his face.

“Last time you checked uh-huh.” Jongho smirked lightly hitting his shoulder while nodding.

Yeo just bit his lip, watching Jongho walk away.

-

“Cap, what's the plan?” Yunho tilted his head until he heard a crack. Seonghwa was pacing around the large map on the big oak table. “Do we travel west?”

“If he cut through this roar he can make it to the caving island before the storm hits,” Mingi spoke up an idea, making the captain nod slowly, leaning into his chair ever so slightly.

“Do it. Three days will be added to our trip, but we'll make it happen.” Hongjoong waved his hand, standing up before turning to look out the window, seeing the dark clouds approaching east. The rest of the crew gear up for the sudden travel. Heading west to a small island riddled with caves big enough to hold a ship until the storm blows over.

-

“This storm is getting bad out there. They should be okay right…” You stood by the water's edge as your friend Livera played with a stick in the sand making random scribbles.

“I’m sure they are fine. Besides the storm is probably not that bad.” The red hair knelt down finding a crab suddenly emerging from under the sand. She bit her lip in excitement, eyes widening with sparkle inside them.

“I just… What if―Bubs if you are so worried, why don’t you go find out?” Her big soft ears that were perched on the top of her head twitch while her tail bright red tail wags slowly.

You turn your attention away from the sweet fox, noticing how the waves crash against the bank as if the ocean calls for you to join it. “Maybe I will.”

And you run straight into the water before diving in deep.

- Part Two -

-

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© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[asaka-lucy-touhou]

⛩️ Touhou/ 🌴 Danganronpa2 Crossover

I’ve been imagining a storyline where Danganronpa 2 characters (Hajime Hinata and Nagito Komaeda) find themselves in Gensokyo. With the help of Alcibiade(@elfen-alcibiade), who shares a love for both games, I’ve completed a manga depicting part of that story. Detailed explanations can be found at the end of this post. We hope fans of both series will enjoy it!

▼Detailed explanations:

In this manga, Hajime and Nagito are invited to a banquet at Hakurei Shrine some time after wandering into Gensokyo.

The events leading up to this banquet aren’t fully fixed, but here’s the rough outline I have in mind: Nagito, known as the "Ultimate Lucky," is led to the Human Village with Hajime and stops by Geidontei. There, he displays incredible luck at Sannyo's gambling den, becoming famous in a single day. Mamizou, who also happens to be at Geidontei, finds this amusing and challenges him to a few games but loses badly. Frustrated, she suggests Nagito play a game with Reimu, another person known for her luck. Reimu, unaware of the extent of Nagito’s fortune, confidently agrees to the match.

--------

From here, I’d like to explain how Alcibiade (@elfen-alcibiade) and I collaborated to create this manga. While I had the general concept in mind for a long time, the entire story was too long to draw. So, I thought it would be nice if I could draw just one scene someday instead. When I shared this idea with Alcibiade, they provided the line art of Reimu in the first panel. This was incredibly helpful, as it gave me a concrete image of the scene.

Reimu’s dynamic pose, with her hand confidently outstretched, inspired the idea of her and Nagito playing Chinchirorin, a traditional Japanese gambling game where three dice are thrown into a bowl. It’s a simple game where luck plays a significant role. While the rules can vary by region, in this manga, the strongest roll is 1-1-1 (pinzoro). Reimu’s confidence in the pose made me imagine her expecting a good result, only to be surprised by Nagito’s extraordinary luck. In this way, the storyline and composition of this manga were largely shaped by that initial pose, and I’m deeply grateful to Alcibiade for their support and collaboration.

I already have some ideas about what happens next: Reimu accusing Mamizou of cheating (even though there was no cheating), Aya trying to interview Nagito as the winner, and Hajime and Nagito running into the three fairies planning a prank at the banquet. Alcibiade even drew a part of this sequel! If you're interested, check out their blog for more details!

Hmmm, there is so much more that I haven't written here yet, but I'm not sure how much more I should explain 😅 If anyone has any questions, feel free to send me an ask. Thanks for reading! 🫶💖

[danceswithsporks]

Calm - Part 8

Part 2 of 6 in The Complete Series

Wrecker x Seamstress!Reader

Parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Chapter Summary: Chai returns to Pabu with interesting news for all of you that will shake everything you��ve worked to repair.

Authors Note: Here we are! The second to last chapter before the end of this fic! I can’t believe we’re already almost there! I sadly don’t foresee the final part being finished before the premier of S3 of Bad Batch but I’ll def do my best to get it done soon!

If you haven’t seen my previous updates in regards to the final season! The events of The Complete Series have already been pre-planed and outlined for each fic! Nothing will change unless I find it massively imperative to the story!

Calm, well as calm as things can be when you’re making clothes to outfit an army. Or more directly ex-army. Somehow you’d been talked into supplying clothes, along with others, to Chai’s new business. She wouldn’t give too many details, apparently the less you knew the better, but she’d taken on supplying clothes to those who’d served in the war and their families. Wrecker had told you that they were important men to him and his brothers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were mainly clones. There were those rare moments where you sent children's clothing as well that made you wonder who else was being helped. You didn’t push to find out. 

You were proud of Chai. It had been six months since Tech’s death and although things were rough in the beginning, she seemed to be doing better. She was helping those in need and running a successful business on an entirely different planet. At least you figured it was successful with how much you were being paid for making all this clothing. You could have sworn you’d heard Crosshair mention something about wealthy donors but once again, you didn’t push. If it was this much of a secret then you’d let Wrecker and the others keep it. All you knew was that those you cared for were helping those in need. That was enough for you. 

So when Chai returned suddenly to Pabu and asked to talk to you, you were a bit surprised. 

“C-Chai! What are you doing here?” Standing in the doorway of your home, you took in the almost frazzled look on her face. “Are you okay? What happened?” Your hand moved to her forehead where a healing cut could be seen. 

“I needed to leave. Can I come in?” She fidgeted slightly before stepping in when you moved to the side. Her eyes looked around at your home and she smiled softly at the signs of a family living here, not just you. On the dining table was a handmade clay vase that housed a bouquet. A few new holo-flats of you, Omega, and Wrecker had been added to the walls and a child’s jacket could be seen on the couch. “Omegas at school?”

“Yeah, Wrecker’s down at the docks helping bring it today's catch. Sounds like it was a good one if they needed his help.” You moved into the kitchen and grabbed the tart you’d made the night before and two plates. “Sorry about the mess. Omega had her first sleepover a few nights ago and we’re still recovering.” Five little girls did more damage than you thought possible. 

Chai followed behind you and grabbed two glasses and a pitcher of water from the fridge. “Wow, sounds like everyone’s settling in.” 

Placing the plates on the table, you nodded. “It’s taken some work, but I think we’re finally getting back to normal. Omega’s making a lot of friends at school and even Crosshair is settling in.” 

“Are they still having nightmares?” Chai placed the glasses down before taking a seat at the table, the bag she’d been carrying sat on the floor next to her leg. 

You chewed your lip for a moment before sighing softly and sitting down. “Periodically. But calming down after is getting easier.” 

“That’s good.” Pouring two glasses of water, Chai chewed her lip for a solid minute. It was clear there was something on her mind. 

“Chai. What’s going on?” You reached across the table and took one of her hands in yours. “What happened? How did you get this?” You pointed to the cut on her forehead. 

She reached up with her free hand and carefully touched the still-tender cut. “Fang. He attacked me behind the shop.” 

“What? I hope you taught him a lesson.” You moved to stand but felt yourself pulled back down. 

“I did my best but someone ended up stepping in and saving me.” Chai didn’t make eye contact with you as she spoke, clearly glossing over something. 

“You know that Crosshair and Hunter are going to demand you take self-defense lessons now, right?” Releasing her hand, you grabbed the knife and cut two slices of tart. All of the boys had taken on caring for Chai. No doubt feeling a sense of duty to protect her and be there for her in Techs sted. “Did you get the name of your savior? I hope you thanked him properly.” 

Chai watched as you placed a slice of tart on a plate and passed it to her before plating one for yourself. “It was…Tech.” 

Your hand froze over the piece of tart in front of you. “Wh-what?” You had to be hearing things. Maybe she said a different name? 

“It was Tech who saved me. He’s…alive.” The look of disbelief on your face seemed to match hers at the time. 

Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on her words. She was being serious, wasn’t she? “Ch-Chai, are you sure? It’s not someone who looks like him?” 

Chai reached into her bag on the ground and grabbed her datapad. Tapping at the device pulled up the surveillance feed from the shop. She clicked on a saved file that showed the clone stepping in and saving her, his face clear and crisp on the screen. “Here. I couldn’t believe it at first either.” 

You took the datapad from her and watched as Tech tased the attacker before helping Chai stand and rush into her shop. “But wait, why are you here if he’s alive? Shouldn't you two be making up for lost time?” Passing the device back to her, you caught the way her bottom lip trembled. “Chai?” It was like a damn was broken, as soon as you said her name the girl broke into a fit of tears. 

“He doesn't remember me!” She covered her face with her hands and broke into loud sobs, her body shaking. “Kix says it’s a severe case of amnesia and there’s a possibility that he’ll never get his memories back!” 

Oh, that was a lot more than you were expecting. “Amnesia?” Stars, that was far worse than him just being dead. At least with him being dead, she could move on. With him alive and her knowing that he didn’t remember her it would be like torture. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.” 

“I tried, I tried to just be normal with him. I made him tea and talked with him like we used to but” she sniffled and wiped at her face with the long sleeve of her shirt. 

“It wasn’t the same?” She nodded to you, making you frown. Standing you moved around the table and held your friend close. “There’s the chance he’ll remember one day. Right?” 

“Echo says it could come with time. I just...I couldn’t be around him. Not yet at least.” Her head shook against your shoulder. “Am I a coward?” 

“Shhh” You rubbed her shoulder gently. “Not in the slightest. You suffered more than the rest of us through all of us. I don’t think of you as a coward for leaving.” You tapped your teeth for a moment before continuing. “But I will think you a coward if you avoid him forever after this.” 

“Avoid who?” Wrecker stood in the doorway of your home with a smile and a large fish in tow. “Hey, Chai. Didn’t know you were coming for a visit.” 

“It’s not a visit.” She shifted awkwardly against you. How would she tell him that his brother was alive? From what you’d told her, he’d suffered harshly after the supposed death of his brother. “I’m moving back.” 

“Was it Kix? Did he overstep? I told him he needed to be careful with his flirting with you.” Wrecker shook his head disapprovingly before moving to the kitchen to place the fish in the fridge. 

Kix had a crush on her? She never noticed that. “Umm, no.” She wiped her face with her sleeve once more before pulling away from you slightly. “Kix has been nothing but a gentleman. They all have been.” 

Wrecker stepped out of the kitchen with that happy smile still plastered on his face. “That’s good to hear. Didn’t want to have to beat up my vod.” He chuckled deeply but found the gesture not returned. “What’s going on?” He looked at Chai closer and noticed the cut. “What happened? Is the shop okay?” 

“She was attacked behind the shop. By Fang.” You stroked your friend's arm gently before stepping away. You’d handle this. “But one of your brothers stepped in and saved her.” Stepping over to the man you loved, you grabbed one of his hands and looked up at him. 

“Which one? Gotta thank him.” Why were you looking at him like that? “Sarad? What is it?”

“You should sit down, Wrecker.” Stroking his hand gently, you took him over to the couch and watched as he sat down. That sweet, pure brown eye was staring at you with so much love. He was doing so well lately and now you were going to destroy all this progress. “Love, the brother that saved her was” You took a long deep breath. “My love, it was Tech.”

-*-

Wrecker watched as the same scene played over for the fifth time on Chai’s datapad. Tech. His vod. He was alive. “Tech…but how?” He looked at Chai who’d now taken a seat across from him while you sat safely next to him, a hand on his forearm.

“His repel line snagged on a service ladder. It helped cushion his fall.” Chai poked a fork at the tart still sitting uneaten on her plate. “His femur injury reopened from the fall and he developed amnesia. Some villagers found him and nursed him to health. Once he was healed, he left to try and figure out who he was.” 

“He found his way to Ord Mantell and to you. It’s a sign from the universe.” You leaned your head against Wrecker's arm and watched him press replay on the video once more. It was no surprise that he was shocked by the news. He’d watched his brother die. Had blamed himself for weeks over his death. If this was how he was then how would Omega be? 

“Will he get the memories back?” His eyes took in the way Tech carefully approached Chai after tasing Fang. It wasn’t the usual confident way Tech moved, this was timid and filled with nervous energy. How could Tech be alive? His brain just couldn’t seem to wrap around the knowledge. 

Chai picked up her glass of water and swirled it for a moment. Unable to look at the large clone before her. “Kix and Echo say there’s a chance they’ll never come back. But that’s a small chance. For now, we just need to not force anything. Let it all come back naturally.” Which she was doing amazing at by running. Maybe you were right, she was a coward. 

Tech could never remember them. If that happened then it would destroy Omega. “Omega can’t know. Not a word to her about any of this.” He placed the datapad down on the table and chewed his lip. “We need to tell Hunter and Cross. They deserve to know.” 

“How long can we keep something like this from her though? Surely one day someone would slip and reveal it. How mad would she be when that happened? How heartbroken?” Beside you, Wrecker shifted awkwardly in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of lying to Omega. It was clearly for her own sanity but still. 

This was something he needed to talk to Hunter about. He was their leader for a reason. “Just…nothing to her for now. Not until we have a plan.” Or Tech got his memories back. 

“We can invite Hunter and Crosshair over for dinner tonight.” You looked at Chai and smiled softly. “You’ll be there too. Once Omega goes to bed we can go over everything and see what they think.” 

Chai just wanted to go home and check in on her family. It had been months since she’d seen them last and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed them. “Are you sure you need me?” When you nodded to her with a stern look, she knew there was no way out. “Alright.”  She moved to stand up but stopped when she heard the door open once more. “Oh, Omega.” 

“Chai!” The young blonde quickly ran across the room and hugged the woman tightly. “What are you doing here?” She could have sworn you’d said it would be a miracle if Chai came back anytime soon. 

“Just came back for a visit, that’s all.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small container. “Brought ya something from an old friend.” 

Omega's eyes lit up and sparkled as she opened the container. “Mantell Mix! Thank you!” She excitedly jumped in place before turning to show Wrecker. For a brief moment, she found a serious look on her brother's face. But as fast as it had appeared, it was gone. How strange. “Wrecker look! So happy they let us out early.” 

You moved around the table and took Omega’s satchel from her. “Why did they send you home early?” It wasn’t like the school to let the kids out early. 

“The teacher droid said a storm is coming.” Omega popped another piece of mix into her mouth before moving around the table and sitting closest to the tart. She remembered you making it the night before and how delicious it looked. Silently, she pointed at the tart earning a smile and a head nod from you. Her eyes lit up at the silent permission you gave her and quickly she grabbed the knife and cut a slice. 

“Yeah, all the boats are being called back early. That’s why they sent me home.” Wrecker watched as Omega carefully cut a slice of tart and happily ate a small bite. 

“Storm, huh?” You walked over to the kitchen and grabbed your datapad. Sure enough, on the screen was a message from Shep to the entire island letting them know about the storm. “Looks like it’s gonna be a rough one. We should probably secure the shop and the house. With us being so high on the mountain we’re gonna get hit with the wind worse.” Already you could hear the wind picking up a bit. 

Wrecker stood and stretched carefully. “Chai, want me to walk ya home? Gonna check in on Hunter and Cross and invite them to hide out here for the night.” He looked at you. “If that’s ok, Sarad.” 

Already you were making a mental list of everything you’d need to do. There was fabric air drying that would need to be pulled in and patio furniture you’d need to secure. Wrecker asked you once more if it was ok for the boys to hide out at your place and you smiled. “You never need to ask, Wrecker. <strong> Our </strong> place is always open to your family.”  Strong arms wrapped around your body and pulled you close as a warm stubble-covered face rested against your cheek. 

“Thank you.” Came as a whisper from him and you knew it wasn’t simply for letting his brothers come over. With the news that you’d all just received, all any of you wanted was to be with those you cared for. Your arms wrapped around him and held him close. “Of course, my love.” 

Omega made a fake gagging sound as she watched the two of you. “You two are doing it again.” She watched as you smirked and rolled your eyes. 

Chai chuckled at Omega’s dramatic playfulness. “They do this a lot?” 

“All the time. Super lovey-dovey. Especially after they go on one of those long dates in the Marauder.” She bit into another piece of tart. The flavor exploded in her mouth as a berry popped. She giggled playfully as you gasped at her words. “Well, you guys do! For like three days after you two are extra kissy.” 

You hadn’t realized your trips to the waterfall with Wrecker lifted your mood so much that Omega noticed. Chai shot you a knowing smirk and you felt like you were going to die from embarrassment. “Good to know, Mega. How about you get started on your homework?” And give you a moment to not feel so embarrassed! 

“Don’t you need help securing the shop?” She took another bite of the treat in front of her, enjoying the way your cheeks were getting redder and the way Wrecker was trying not to laugh. 

Damn, you did need her help. “Uh, yeah. But I need to fold fabric and bring stuff in so it’ll be a bit before I need your help.” Beside you, the clone was shaking from trying to hide his laughter. It wasn’t funny…ok it was a little bit. You thought you’d been secretive about how the trips went but it seemed not. Stars, Doll was going to have a field day with this, and with the way Chai was looking at you? It seemed like she was going to tell the innkeeper as soon as she could. “Homework now and I’ll grab you when it’s time.” 

Omega nodded and stood with her now empty tray. “Okay.” She paused for a moment and looked at the three adults in the room. Something was going on. Things had felt tense and heavy when she walked in earlier but now it seemed fine. Maybe things were okay? But something in her stomach was telling her that they weren’t. It was that same feeling she’d had after they’d lost Tech. 

“Omega? You ok?” You walked over and took the plate from her while watching her carefully. The girl blinked a few times before shaking her head and nodding. 

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Can I take the mix with me?” She held up the container for you to see. 

“Just a little bit. Wrecker brought home a beautiful fish for dinner tonight. I figured you could help me make it after we get the house secured?” A strand of hair was brushed behind the girl's ear with your hand. The blonde locs were getting long. The length looked good on her. 

Brown eyes lit up and shined at you. “Yes! Of course!” She loved cooking with you and Wrecker! It was always so much fun! The feeling in her stomach disappeared slightly, now replaced with the excitement of helping you. She’d definitely finish her homework fast now. With a wave to everyone, Omega took off for her room. 

You waited until her door had shut before speaking to Wrecker and Chai. “Let the guys know we want them for dinner, but don’t tell them why. It’ll come as a shock to them too and it’s better if we do all of this as a family.” 

“Including Omega?” Chai looked down the hall to the extra rooms. The girl was so sweet and pure for everything she’d gone through in life. She could only imagine how this would make her feel.

Wrecker looked down at you and the two of you shared a silent look before he shook his head. “Not yet. Not until we have better news for her.” 

“Agreed. We can take a group vote tonight to see what Hunter and Crosshair think. But I feel that they’ll agree with us.” Walking over to Chai, you hugged her tightly. “I hope you’ll come back tonight for dinner.” 

Chai returned the hug while nodding. “Of course. As long as the storm doesn’t get too bad. I’ll be here.” 

Omega stood with her back against the door to her room, her ears straining a bit to hear what was being said. What were you guys not telling her? Why did you need to take a vote with Crosshair and Hunter? She heard the door open followed by the heavy footsteps of her brother. Whatever it was, she’d find out. 

-*-

“Stitches, dinner was amazing.” Hunter sat back with a satisfied sigh, his hand on his stomach. He had to admit that you were one hell of a cook. Wrecker was one lucky man to have you by his side. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. But it would have been nothing without that amazing fish Wrecker caught today.” With a happy hum, you stood and began to clear the dishes. 

Omega stood up quickly and grabbed some of the plates nearest her. “I’ve got it!” The longer she stayed up the more likely the adults would say something to her, right?

You watched in surprise as the young blonde grabbed the dishes in your hands and carried them towards the kitchen. “O-oh. Thanks, Omega.” It wasn’t uncommon for her to help you after dinner, but it was a surprise that she was so eager. Usually, you had to ask. You felt a tug on your wrist and found Wrecker pulling you back down into your seat.

“Seems like the kids settled in nicely.” Crosshair pulled a toothpick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. Arms crossed, he watched Omega place the dishes into the sink and turn in the water. “So, what’s going on? Why are you here, Chai?” 

Eyes flickered quickly to Crosshair as he asked his question. “Umm, perhaps we should wait until she’s asleep.” Your voice was low as you tilted your head towards the kitchen. 

Hunter chewed his lip while the sound of clinking dishes filled the room. “That important, huh?” When you nodded to him he sighed. “Should have known this wasn’t just a group dinner.” 

“We still have a reason to celebrate. Chai’s home. The gang’s almost completely back together. Just need Echo.” And Tech. But the others didn’t know that yet and the idea of him being able to join you all once more was still just that, an idea. If the amnesia was as bad as Chai was saying it was then it could truly be a long wait before he was truly back to you all. You caught the way Chai shot you a look. No doubt she wished you could say Tech's name as well. 

“If we’re gonna celebrate then we need some cake.” Wrecker proudly cheered, trying to keep the air light and joyful. The moment the others learned of Tech everything would change. 

You chuckled brightly while leaning against Wrecker. “Well, I didn’t make a cake. But Chai brought some macarons from the shop.”  

Chai smiled at you and pulled the round container from her bag. “Assorted flavors. Couldn’t decide on just one so I made a little of everything.” The lid popped off with a small hiss and the colorful rainbow of treats was now visible to all.

Reaching across the table, you snagged one of the pink ones and happily took a bite. “Mmm, Rosewater?” The flavor lightly danced across your tongue making you hum excitedly. 

“Of course. I know they’re your favorite.” Reaching into the container, Chai grabbed one of the yellow ones. “Omega! Come try some of these and let me know how they taste!” 

The sound of dishes clattering into the seat and the water suddenly turning off made those around the table chuckle. The blonde came running into the room with still-dripping hands as sweet chocolate eyes scanned the table for the aforementioned treats. You smiled brightly as she found them and quickly made a grab for one. Hunter reached out and gripped her wrist, mentioning that she should dry them first before touching the macarons. The girl made a defeated whine before wiping them on her pants quickly. Earning an eye roll from Hunter and Crosshair and a laugh from the others. You allowed yourself the moment to enjoy the happiness of your group, knowing that in roughly an hour it would all change. 

“So, Omega. How’s school been going?” Chai watched the child wiggle happily as she bit into one of the sweets. 

“Really good!” Omega bounced back and forth in a happy dance as she took another bite. “We learned about currents in the ocean and riptides. Lyana said that’s why we can’t go to the cove?” She looked at you and Chai for verification.  

You nodded while reaching for another macaron. “Yup. The current is too strong and will pull ya right out to sea. Usually, people use boats to get over there or if the tide is low enough then they swim over. But that’s rare these days. Especially since the tsunami.” 

Omega sighed dejectedly “Oh man. It sounds like a cool place. I wish I could see it.” 

“Oh, it’s the coolest. We used to spend so much time there a few years ago. Was the first place you showed me after my family moved here.” Chai ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass. The amber liquid within pairing nicely with the sweets she’d brought. “Isn’t that where you and Paolo-“

You feigned a coughing fit, stopping the woman from continuing her train of thought. She shot you a knowing smirk and it took everything in you not to fling a macaron at her. You loved her but damn did she know how to push your buttons. “Like Chai said, it’s a cool place. Maybe we’ll take you there when the weather gets better.” 

“Paolo, huh?” Wrecker smirked at you before leaning over and kissing your temple. “You’ll have to tell me more about him later.” He teased you with a grin while grabbing a treat for himself. It wasn’t hard to figure out where Chai had been going. He’d wondered who your first had been, seems like he’d just found out. As did the others. 

“Take it that the spot is popular with the teens and young adults of the island?” Crosshair raised a knowing eyebrow as he watched you and Chai redden at his question. When you nodded sheepishly he smirked. Perhaps his pretty little Doll would be up for a visit. 

“Why would it be popular for them?” Omega bit into her third macaron with a happy hum. Why was everyone looking at her like that? “Oh, is this another adult-only thing?” She hated being young. Even if she was technically older than the boys. 

You’d be flinging macarons at all of them at this rate. Omega was hearing far too much for someone her age. Clapping your hands loudly, you tried to change the topic “Omega, how about you show Chai the new decorations we added to your room?” 

Omega tilted her head as you changed the subject. She may be young but she wasn’t dumb. You wanted to talk about something else. “How old do I need to be to be able to talk about this stuff?” 

“18” 

“18”

“18”

“18”

“30”

Everyone looked at Hunter in surprise at the absurd number he’d just spit out. What? He wasn’t ready for any of these conversations with her yet. You’d mentioned to him something about the talk about puberty soon and he’d nearly passed out. “Uh, 18. Of course.” He feigned a laugh as the sound of the rain outside picked up. “Chai, these are delicious.” Hunter picked up a raspberry macaron and stuffed it into his mouth. He wasn’t cut out for this life.

Now Hunter was getting red! Omega giggled before stepping away from the table with two more macarons in her hand. “Come on, Chai. I’ll show you my room. We got these pretty star decorations that hang from the ceiling. I really like them.” 

You watched as Chai followed the girl down the hall while chatting about the new decorations. Thank goodness Omega tended to be easily distracted. Picking up your glass of wine, you took a slow sip and sighed. This was nice if only it would last all night.

-*-

“He’s alive?” Crosshair felt his heart race at the words. Alive. Tech was alive. Omega had been sent to bed and the group had retired to the shop to not wake the girl. Already he’d heard from Chai twice on how his brother had survived and yet he still couldn’t comprehend it. “Tech? You’re sure?” 

“Yes.” Chai passed her datapad to him, the video from earlier playing once more. “It’s him in every way possible.” Even if he wasn’t fully himself, it was him. 

Hunter leaned against the wall closest to the door with his arms crossed, a frown on his lips. “Kix is positive there’s nothing we can do?” The door was currently cracked open slightly allowing the smell of rain to waft into the shop. Outside the wind howled with the storm and thunder rang out in the distance. The smell of your shop and its fabrics mixed with the rain making his senses override. It was a curse, his heightened senses, made situations like this difficult. Tech was alive, his brother was alive and yet he couldn’t focus on it. It was like his brain was telling him it was all too much. That he needed other things in his mind. 

Chai shook her head quickly. “Nothing. He’s worried that if we push too hard we could cause more damage.” There was so much she’d wanted to try and yet she couldn’t risk him losing his memories forever. Something she equates to torture and thus why she’d returned to Pabu. Being around him, even for that little bit of time the first night, had been far too tempting. All she’d wanted to do was kiss him once more and yet she couldn’t. She’d lied to him, told him they had just been friends. 

“All we can do is support Tech and be here when he’s ready.” You leaned against Wrecker, his arms tight around your waist as the two of you sat with your back against the counter. “The real question concerns Omega. Do we tell her?”

“The kid’s been through a lot.” Crosshair pointed at Wrecker with his toothpick. “Ya said she had those nightmares for months.” 

“Yeah. A mix between Tech’s death and what happened on Mount Tantiss.” You felt Wreckers shift so one of his knees was up, it began to bounce nervously. Reaching out silently, you placed a hand on his knee to calm him. “She still has one every once in a while now, but it’s not as bad as it was and she’s gotten better at calming down on her own.” 

Hunter chewed his lip in thought for a moment. “We shouldn’t put her at risk then. Won’t be fair to the kid.” He didn’t like the idea of lying to her and keeping such important news a secret. It was clear on everyone’s faces that none of them did. “Echo still not answering?” 

Chai shook her head before tapping at your datapad in her lap. They’d been trying for the last hour to contact Echo and get his input on everything but had failed. She worried something had happened when not even Kix had answered her call. “Somethings wrong.” 

“Something bad?” You continued to hold Wrecker's knee still, able to feel the tensing of it as he tried to bounce it. 

“They would have triggered one of our alarms if it was really bad. I would have gotten a notification.” What if it was Tech? What if something had happened to him? What if … he’d left? Would it be considered her fault if he did? Chai shook her head before trying Echo once more, this time from her datapad. After a few moments, the call still wasn’t answered. Sighing, Chai placed the datapad down. “Looks like it’s up to us. I vote we keep it a secret until he remembers her.” 

Crosshair and Hunter both shared a look before nodding in unison. “Agreed.” Came in dual voices. 

Wrecker swallowed loudly before nodding as well. “Yeah. Sounds like a smart idea.” 

Thunder cracked loudly outside making you jump slightly. “Then we’re all on board with this. Until Tech remembers her, Omega will not know he’s alive.” 

“What?” A soaked Omega stood in the doorway of your shop, a shocked Hunter staring down at her. “H-He’s alive and you weren’t going to tell me?” She hadn’t been able to sleep knowing you were all keeping something from her. Tech had once taught her that water could wash away one’s scent and thus made it harder for Hunter to track, a lesson that she’d used to her advantage. Sneaking out to your shop had been easy and she had silently thanked the universe for the door being cracked open. She hadn’t caught the entirety of the conversations, just the end, but it had been enough. 

“Omega!” You jumped up at the sight of the soaked girl. “Look at you.” Turning around you grabbed a pile of fabric off the shelf and ran over to her, ready to wrap the material around her and dry her off. “You’ll get sick if you stay drenched lik-“Your words were cut off as she moved away from you angrily. 

“I trusted you!” Her brown eyes shook with a mix of anger and sadness. “You were just going to lie to me? For how long? A week? A month? Forever?” 

You shook your head quickly as you stepped towards the girl once more. “Omega, it’s not that simple. We…”

“Why should I trust what you have to say?” She looked at everyone in the room. “Why should I trust any of you?” With that she turned and bolted out of the front of the shop and down the path, her bare feet sliding slightly against the cold cobblestones.

Instantly you were racing after her, the cold sting of the powerful rain whipping across your cheeks. “Omega!” Where was she going? 

Wrecker and the others weren’t too far behind you. It had taken them all a moment to process what had happened before they were moving and running down the path calling out for her as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her act this way. Running off recklessly into a storm. “Omega! Stitches!” He called for you both loudly, his voice booming like thunder. 

Omega wasn’t sure where she was running to but she allowed her legs to carry her wherever they desired. How could all of you agree to lie to her? Keep from her that her brother was alive? Alive. Tech was alive! But he didn’t remember her? Wasn’t that what you’d been saying? That you’d keep the secret until he remembered her? How could he forget her? After everything they’d been through together. The past conversations with him ran through her head, especially the one in the cave after the mining incident. “Tech … ” tears mixed with rain as the girl continued down the path and now towards a destination. 

“Omega, please!” She turned left off the path and suddenly you understood where she was heading. “Omega! Stop! It’s too dangerous!” Behind you, Wrecker's voice boomed as he called out for the both of you. The path turned from cobblestones to mud and grass as you followed her toward the cliff overlooking the cove. You hadn’t had time to put shoes on and thus the thick mud was now sticking to your feet giving you some resistance. “Ome-“ you gasped before tumbling forward and the feeling of fire shot through your ankle. You landed in the mud with a hiss and swore loudly. Looking at what had tripped you, you found a sharp rock jutting out of the earth. Pain shot through your ankle as you tried to fight back tears. 

Wrecker was just barely far enough behind you to not see you trip due to the downpour showering the island with a wall of water, so when he found you sitting on the ground with mud on your face and your hand around your ankle he was shocked. “Sarad! Are you ok?” He yelled to you over the rain and thunder. Taking a closer look at your ankle he noticed red seeping from between your fingers. “You're hurt!” 

“Don’t worry about me! Get Omega! She’s heading towards the cove!” Fuck your ankle hurt. You watched as he gave you a nervous look. “Go, Wrecker!” 

“I … but your ankle. Are you sure?” When you nodded to him he kissed the top of your head quickly before taking off once more in the direction that Omega had run. Hunter and the others had to be close. “Omega! Stop!” 

“Leave me alone!” Omega yelled over her shoulder as she continued down the path. Where was the turn-off towards the beach? It was so hard to see with all this wind and rain. Suddenly, the ground tapered to a point making Omega fumble to stop. With a screech, she slipped in the mud and went over the edge. “Wrecker!! Help!” Her hands gripped a large root sticking out of the mud. Below her, the waves of the ocean crashed against the rocks and licked at her ankles. If she fell she’d be swallowed by waves and pulled out to sea. 

Wrecker heard her before he finally saw her. It was like a flash from the past. She hung from a root with fear in her eyes. Below her, the sea churned and reached for her like some terrible monster. Instantly he was back on that broken rail cart staring down at Tech. His brother hanging from a repel line for dear life as troopers fired upon them. The height wasn’t nearly the same but it still threatened to push him away from the edge. No, he’d worked too hard with you to face these fears. If it came to it he’d jump from their ledge to her. He’d lost Tech that day, he wouldn’t lose Omega. Reaching down, he gripped her wet hand tightly. “I’ve got you, Omega! Just hold on.” The crash of the sea below and the thunder and rain above mixed into a deafening roar that nearly drowned his voice out as he tried to find a better grip on the child. She’d weigh nothing to him and he knew as much, but it was finding a grip. 

Omega scrambled to cling to Wrecker's large arm that offered safety, both hands letting go of the root and holding onto his hand instead. She felt herself move as he began to pull her up and a sigh of relief left her lips. Her hands slipped from Wreckers, the mix of mud and rain making it too hard to hold onto. A scream left her as her eyes closed and she braced for the icy grip of the deadly waves below. 

“No!” Not this time. He wouldn’t lose another family member. His hand shot out and gripped the first thing he felt, her shirt. With an angry yell, he allowed his body weight to pull them both back and thud into the sticky wet mud.

Warmth, fabric, safety. Omega opened her eyes and found herself in the protective grasp of her brother, both of them safe on the ground. He’d saved her, ripped her straight from the air, and certain death of the angry sea below. 

Hunter and Crosshair both supported you on one of their shoulders as the three of you finally caught up with Omega and Wrecker. A red bandana was currently wrapped around your ankle to staunch the flow of blood and protect it from any more mud. Crosshair was positive it was broken, Hunter was hopeful it was just a sprain. They’d wanted to sit and wait for Chai to run and grab one of her brothers to help get you back to the shop while they went after their siblings but you’d been decidedly against it. This was partially your fault. You should help get her back. 

“He got her.” You let out a relieved sigh at the sight of Omega in Wrecker's arms. The girl's face was currently buried in the clone's chest as her body shook, a sign she was crying. 

“Here, hold onto her. I’ll let them know you're ok.” Hunter passed you to Crosshair and nodded to you before walking carefully toward the other two. 

“So, you and Doll?” A knowing smirk was passed from you to Crosshair who rolled his eyes. 

Crosshair shifted you in his hold while chuckling deeply. “You do know I could release you and let you fall into the mud, right?” 

-*-

“There. Nice and clean.” You ran the towel over Omega locs one final time before placing the towel down and covering the girl with a blanket. You’d all been out in the mud, wind, and rain for far longer than necessary, you wouldn’t be surprised if one of you got sick. Once you’d all returned to your home it had been a few rounds of everyone showering before Crosshair took a look at your ankle. Hunter had been right, it was sprained. Much to everyone’s relief. Until the storm subsided and you were able to get to the island doctor you’d need to be off of it. Something that Wrecker was diligently seeing to. Omega knelt in front of you on the floor while you rested on the couch with your foot propped on a pillow. A blanket was laid over your lap and one of Wrecker's large long-sleeve shirts enveloped your body in a warm embrace. The big clone himself was in the kitchen making all of you warm drinks, also worried about someone getting sick. 

Omega chewed her lip as your fingers began to run through her hair, the feeling making her relax slightly. “Thank you, Stitches.” She heard you whisper ‘You’re welcome’ and the room soon fell into silence again. It was five minutes before anyone said anything, the silence being broken by Wrecker stepping in with a tray of hot milk and honey. Carefully the mug was pulled from the tray and Omega allowed the warmth of the mug to radiate through her body before finally taking a sip. The warmth of the sweet and creamy drink raced through her body in a calming surge. She needed this. The warmth gave her the courage to speak finally. “Were you really going to keep it from me?” 

You’d wondered how long it was going to be before she said something. Looking around the room at the others, you took a sip of your drink before sighing. “Sweetie, there’s something you need to understand.” The figure in front of you moved and turned around to face you. Those sweet brown eyes stared into your eyes making your heart twist. How could you have thought about lying to such an innocent child? Yes, you’d been doing it to protect her from the pain of knowing the truth. But Omega was smart for her age, she understood things better than most. You’d fallen into the trap of seeing her as a child when she was in fact an advanced clone. “Tech has a severe case of amnesia.” 

“Like Gregor had?” She looked at Hunter who nodded. “Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? Gregor got his memories back. I helped Nala Se look him over when he returned to Kamino.”  Omega looked at everyone with a happy energy. “We just need to support him and be there to help him remember, right?” 

The way she seemed so hopeful at the prospect hurt the clone Sargent’s heart. “That’s just it. It’s been six months and he hasn’t remembered anything. Kix and Echo are concerned that he may not remember anything at all.” Hunter placed the warm drink he’d taken from Wrecker down on the table. “Ever.” 

“O-Oh.” She knew all of this, didn’t she? She’d researched amnesia after hearing about Gregor and had read as much as she could. That's how she knew about being there for him and helping him to remember. No matter how she tried to search her memories though she couldn’t seem to remember anything else. 

You watched as her bottom lip slowly began to tremble. “Oh, sweetie. It’ll be ok.” Moving to get off the couch, you felt Wrecker's protective hand on your shoulder silently telling you not to move. Instead, he reached down, easily picked Omega up, and hugged her tightly. The little clone's face buried into Wrecker's chest as sobs ripped from her once more. 

Chai stood from the opposite couch and walked over to Omega. Gently she stroked her back and shushed her. “When I found out I felt the same way you’re feeling. How could I even be around him knowing he didn’t remember me?” You cleared your throat next to her and she raised her hand to calm you. She was going somewhere with this. “But Echo talked to me and told me something that put things into perspective for me. Would you like to hear what it was?” 

Omega turned her face from Wrecker's chest and looked at Chai. “Y-yes.” Chai offered her hand to her and with a small bit of hesitation, Omega tapped Wrecker indicating that she’d like to be put down. Taking Chai’s hand, she moved next to you on the couch and sat down. 

Kneeling in front of the girl, Chain reached up and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. “Echo helped me see that if Tech doesn’t get his memories back then that means that we can make new memories together.” She let out a hum softly. “Think about it, getting to know him all over again. It could be fun. I know you’ve all been through a lot with one another.” She looked at the group as a whole. “You all have a brother's bond with him, made memories that only you know of. You’ll get to make new memories with him now, we all will.” 

“Then …” Omega chewed her lip in thought. Should she ask her the question brewing within?

“What is it, Omega?” You reached over and stroked a piece of her hair. The blonde looked at you nervously. 

Swallowing the fear inside of her, she looked back at Chai. “Then why is Chai here and not with Tech?” 

“Because..” Chai remembered what you’d said earlier that day, that she was a coward. “I’m a coward. I ran when faced with the knowledge that he may never remember me.”

“Why?” Omega knew she was asking a lot of personal questions right now, but she needed answers to so many burning questions inside of her. 

“It’s hard for me to explain. But know that I love your brother very much. I left for selfish reasons and planned on staying away because of those reasons. But being with all of you reminded me how important being there for the ones you care for is.” She took Omega's hand in hers and patted the back of it gently. “It’s Tech, he’ll get his memories back, and if not then we’ll make new ones together.” 

“So you’re gonna head back then?” You watched your friend nod at your question. “When?” It made you happy to know that she’d be going back. Tech was far too important to just give up on and avoid. Now that all of you knew he was alive and safe, you needed him to come home. 

Chai smiled softly while wiping away a stray tear from Omega’s cheek. “Probably in a week or two. I’ll try Echo again in the morning and let him know I changed my mind. Gonna stick around and help my family with the shop for a bit. My brothers have been doing the stocking and everything is a mess now.” Standing up, she stretched her arms over her head. “Maybe Omega could come with me. Seeing his sister may be what the clone needs.” 

Hunter and Crosshair both shifted awkwardly at the request. Omega hadn’t left the planet since they’d rescued her. Too worried about someone else coming after her. “Maybe.” Was all that came from Hunter before he grabbed the cup of cooking milk and honey. 

-*-

“Echo, what are you doing here?” It had been weeks since the clone had been on Pabu and nearly a week since you’d last spoken to him. Last you’d heard Tech was in some kind of Jedi trance working on getting his memories back. 

“Hey, Stitches. You still have that pile of clothes you made for Tech?” He watched as a small smile began to form on your lips. Stepping to the side he allowed another figure to stand in the doorway. 

“Stitches, it has been a while.” Tech nodded to you with, to your surprise, a smile. He extended his hand out to shake yours, another surprise.

You took the offered hand, grasped it tightly, and pulled him into a tight hug. Tears burned at your cheeks as you took in that the clone remembered you and was here on Pabu. You held him tightly for a few moments before sniffling and stepping away. “Sorry. Just happy you’re back. Come in, I’ll grab those clothes.” 

Echo chuckled while slapping Tech's shoulder firmly. “You’re not the first to hug him like that, probably won’t be the last either.” Both of them stepped in and followed you as you walked over to a linen closet in your main area. “I see Omega’s still making messes.” 

“Huh?” You looked over your shoulder at a stack of books and blankets on the floor. “Actually.” Moving a large box to the side, you found the stack of clothes perfectly folded where you left them. “That’s Wrecker’s mess.” With a happy sigh, you pulled the stack out and looked at the two clones. Tech was giving you a surprised look that made you smirk. “He didn’t tell ya that they live with me now, did he?” 

Tech crossed his arms and shook his head. “It seems Echo deemed it unnecessary for me to know such information.” 

“Thought it would be more fun for you to learn this way.” Echo took the stack from you and looked through it carefully before deciding on something for Tech to change into. “Where are they anyway?” 

“Oh that’s a good one, she liked that one a lot when I made it.” White linen pants and a cream-colored cotton top. You’d made a gorgeous cream flowing sundress for Chai to match him. Nearly every one of his outfits had a matching outfit for Chai. “Wrecker took Omega down to the docks to grab dinner. Sounds like the fishermen brought in another good haul today. Ever since the tsunami the catch has been perfect. One of the benefits of that day I guess.” You smirked at Tech. “What do you think, Tech?” 

“It is indeed a great benefit. However, I feel I may have something better.” And thus he’d come to the question that had been burning at him the entire trip to Pabu. “Will she be happy to see me?” 

Oh, how sweet was he? Walking back to him, you looked him over carefully. Stubble was beginning to form on his chin and his hair was now longer and nearly covering his eyes. At least his giggles were back. “We should clean you up a bit. Looks like you need a haircut.” Reaching up, you brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “Tech, she’s going to be so happy to see you, she may just cry.” 

“Tech?” A small voice called from the doorway. She couldn’t believe it, he was here. Omega shakily made her way towards the clone, nervous that this was suddenly all a dream. 

Tech turned and looked at the sound of his sister's voice. With another smile, he waved to her. “Hello, Omega.” The child was suddenly in his arms and holding him in a deathly grip. If she was Wrecker’s size this may hurt, but at her size it was endearing. 

Omega felt tears run down her cheeks as she felt Tech's arms wrap around her and hold her close. This was real, he was alive and he remembered her, right? “You remember me?” 

“Of course, you are my sister after all. My vod.” Her hair had gotten longer and she seemed approximately two inches taller. Interesting how much she’d changed in the time he was gone. No longer did she dress as a clone but as a young woman. Instead of pants, she was wearing a sundress with small heeled sandals and a braid around her crown with a ribbon holding the ends together at the back of her head. “You look like you’ve settled. I am glad this place has been good for you.” 

He really did remember her! A tear-stained smile played on her lips as she continued to hold Tech. Like heck was she going to let him go anytime soon. “Wrecker! Get in here!” Still holding onto the goggled clone, she turned them both to face the door. 

“I’m coming, ‘Mega!” Wrecker ducked as he entered the house, arms holding a small crate filled with crustaceans for dinner. Smiling, Wrecker looked for a place to set the crate down when he finally registered who was standing in the room. “T-Tech?” His eyes went wide as he dropped the crate, making you squeal in happy surprise, and walked over to his brother and sister. 

“Hello, Wrecker.” There he was, the last face he’d seen before the fall. Omega didn’t move as the large clone pulled them into a tight hug. Now this was a squeeze that could injure them. 

“Wrecker, riduur, you’ll injure them.” You placed your hand on the large clone's bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“S-Sorry.” Tears trickled from the corner of his eyes while he stepped back. “Tech, I’m sorry I didn’t pull you up.” The words spilled from him before he could stop them. It was like seeing his brother instantly made everything want to pour from him. 

“We were being fired upon and the rail cart was in jeopardy of falling. Understandably, you were unable to simultaneously protect Omega and pull me up at the same time. Thus while I enacted Plan ninety-nine.” Tech reached over and placed a hand on Wrecker's shoulder. Echo had explained the difficulties that Omega and Wrecker had both experienced after his supposed death. “Wrecker, my falling had nothing to do with your inability to pull me up. However, if it will help you to feel better, then I will accept your apology if you accept mine for having to watch me fall.” 

Wrecker swallowed the large lump in his throat as he nodded slowly. “Deal.” Was all that he could seem to say before he pulled his vod back into a tight hug. Tech grunted at the feeling but didn’t fight the hug, much to Wrecker’s delight. 

You blinked back tears as you watched the scene before you. Wrecker and Omega both seemed to visibly relax their shoulders and you realized that some kind of weight that neither had realized they were carrying was finally released. Beside you, Echo let out a happy sigh. Everything finally felt right. A calmness settled over the room as the three stayed in their hug for five minutes. “OK, OK. We can’t hog him all day.” 

Omega wiggled her head free from the hug and looked at you. “Why not?” She didn’t want to let her brother go.

“Because.” Echo smiled and held out the change of clothes with his good hand. “He’s got a date that he’s already late for.”

Taglist:

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[conversationswiththemoon]

I finished Dragon Age: Veilguard

I finished my first playthrough of DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD today. So what follows will be heavily spoilerific. I will talk about the ending, but not give away any big spoilers.

SPOILERS!

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THE BAD: I'm going to get the critiques out of the way.

So, this game got off to a rough start. It was in development for 10 years, during which it was restarted multiple times because of executive meddling. EA, which owns Bioware, wanted it to be a live-service MMO game, whereas the franchise has only ever been single player RPG. Because of that it, the story structure suffered, even after someone finally convinced EA that nobody would buy an MMO Dragon Age game.

There are some big departures from previous games that were glaring and hard to swallow. For one, the hallmark of Dragon Age is that major decisions you make influence your world state in the next game. For this game... virtually no details from prior games are imported, including several that were pretty major. So because of that, a lot of character interactions are really watered down, which is a disappointment. You DO get to recreate your Inquisitor (protagonist of game #3) but frankly, the interactions are pretty generic compared to similar returning characters of the past.

The other big problem I had with the game is that the writing simply refuses to let the viewer sit with discomfort. A big part of prior games is that there are choices made that have no clear right or wrong answer. They're gray and hard and morally challenging. Fans will debate endlessly over them. They enrich the world immesurably because even if you absolutely HATE a particular companion, you at least understand how they got to their particular POV. But not in Veilguard. In this game, the few-and-far-between friction points are smoothed over quickly.

In previous games, there were arcs where companions went from enemies to friends or friends to enemies over the course of events, but here they stay largely static. Friendly from the start, with quickly resolved conflicts. Banter suffers from it, making a lot of the dialogue between companions much blander than previous installations.

This bleeds over into Rook's dialogue. (Rook is the player character.) The most they can muster is some mild occasional grumpiness, even when outright hostility may be called for. I got to punch one asshole, but that's about it.

Bad guys often get kid gloves, too. I noticed that human baddies get off lightly compared to baddies of other races, and thought it was an odd choice for a game series where you used to be able to outright execute traitors and other murderers.

The politics are also pretty watered down. Major plot points in the prior games revolve around there being slavery in the places this game takes place. Particularly slavery of the elven underclass, the eradication of which is central to the motive of a major character.

We see, literally, like one slave in this whole game. When one of the factions you spend your time helping literally exists to eradicate slavery in their city but the parts of the city you see are slavery free? That's a cop out.

Other factions are similarly neutered; the Antivan Crows, a ruthless assassin's guild who we are told by a former member take in children and kill those that don't succeed... suddenly become the kinder, gentler mafia that support their fledglings.

So what I'm saying is that the world feels like its had all of its edges sanded down and smoothed over for comfort (whose? why?) and in a way, that feels like a betrayal of what a Dragon Age game should be. Dragon Age games are SUPPOSED to challenge you. They're supposed to make you think about what tactics are best to reach your goal. They're supposed to make you take into account people who have had wildly different life experiences and how you can reconcile to meet that goal. So this was a particularly bitter disappointment.

Also I took issue with writing for one companion in particular, Taash. Spoilers for Taash's arc in this paragraph. Over the course of the game, Taash, a first gen immigrant, comes out as non-binary. They're written more immaturely than other companions, but we've always had a young and kinda bratty companion in the mix so I shrugged at that. But the weird thing is that even though they're non-binary, the game forces you more than once to decide FOR them whether they're more like their parent's culture or like the culture they grew up in. You literally force them into a different binary. Like. It's a baffling hypocrisy, and frankly something I imagine would be super insulting to immigrants in general. Very tone-deaf writing from Trick Weekes, whose writing I usually like.

The romances were a pale shadow of what they have been. The one letter we get from Inquisition's romanced character had more romance in it than the entirety of the full romance in this one. I romanced Davrin. He was sweet and hot. But the fact that I couldn't strike up a conversation with him outside of preordained story beats sucked, and the romances are so back-loaded they don't get proper time to breathe.

Minor, but there isn't an epilogue where we can spend time with characters after the final fight the way we could in games past, and in that way it ends kind of abruptly.

And finally, having basically the fantasy KKK and the Evil Fascist Empire capitulate and fall in line under the banner of their traditional enemies felt way too fait accompli and handwavy. And to that end, there is not nearly enough elven outrage when they find out their Gods are, in fact, capital-E EVIL.

THE GOOD:

I had a lot of fun playing the game. The combat style is a huge departure from prior installments. It's not without its faults (ranged players have a notably difficult time with several bosses) but it was fun even if I didn't use all of the features for my class. I will try them next time.

The environments are GORGEOUS. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Just jaw-dropping. Honestly I thought I was going to hate the aesthetic of the whole game based on the early marketing, but I really ended up liking it a lot.

You get a baby griffin AND a charming skeleton manservant. I would lay down my life for either.

The Big Bad villains are well done and appropriately terrifying.

The Blight is shown in all its hideous glory and the parts that involve it are appropriately gross. (Do you like Dr. Pimple Popper? Boy howdy, have I got the game for you!)

I thought most of the companion quests were executed well, especially Emmrich's.

I liked the armor variety and crafting/improvement system. I really enjoyed how fully customizable Inquisition's system was, but as an alternative, this felt good to me, too.

After the first big main quest, the game gets noticibly better. I went from grumping all the time to actually enjoying it. By act 3, the game is in full swing, and the finale is just so so GOOD. Truly, the pacing of the finale is chef's kiss. There are ways for it to go fully wrong, but even when everything goes as well as the writing will allow, it still stings in all the right places. Mass Effect players will notice a particularly noticible Bioware hallmark in there.

OVERALL: I'll play this game again. I want to spend more time with the companions, trying different combinations and playstyles. It's a really fun game. But from a writing standpoint, it's easily the weakest Dragon Age game to date, which is a real shame. It's hard to say how much of that is the game lead / writers being afraid to show teeth and how much of it was executive fuckery. It's probably a bit of both, honestly.

[thewakingcloak]

The State of Things Past

this post is mirrored from the Studio Spacefarer Patreon! please consider supporting me, and you’ll get access to devlog posts, gifs, and other info before the public!

Like I mentioned in my previous post, The Waking Cloak has been in development for eight years.

ProtoDungeon: Episode III has itself been in development for a few years, pretty much since 2019 (oooof). I've gotten plenty of questions about how the project is coming, as well as the occasional question of whether The Waking Cloak / ProtoDungeon is even alive at all at this point. Thank you for asking this. It means people are still interested in these games.

Okay, but still, what happened? Why are things taking so long? Well, this post is the first in the Christmas Carol series, in which the ~Ghost of Spacefarer Past~ appears to explain things (wooo spooky explanation sounds).

Progress has been made, very slowly, on ProtoDungeon: Episode III. I'd love to have done more, but, well… in the time since I released Episode II, we continued adjusting to parenthood for our first kid, went through the pandemic, had a second baby (who is now almost 3yo), and survived through a series of really difficult events, which culminated in a move to a new house in a new town and the start of a new chapter (but that last bit we'll save that for the Ghost of Christmas Present so he feels useful).

But yeah, it's been a rough ride. My wife and I are intentionally open about what's been going on. At the same time, the internet is an extremely public place, and I don't want to overshare, or worse, trigger anything for anyone, so I'll try to keep this list brief:

Two miscarriages (the first one was late term, and absolutely, brutally devastating)

The loss of our faith community due to the pandemic

Loss of job for my wife due to the pandemic (the pandemic was unkind to teachers)

Loss of a dream job prospect for my wife (same issue)

The great Texas freeze and power outage (us huddling under blankets in shifts through the night with our newborn infant (he's fine now!))

Severe, life-threatening post-partum and post-natal depression

Family covid and two-week cabin-fever quarantines (twice, despite being vaccinated and careful)

The death of my grandma (we were not able to attend her memorial due to aforementioned covid and living on the other side of the country)

Multiple heart attacks for my father despite his active and healthy lifestyle

Autoimmune disease scare for my wife (may still be a thing, just dormant?)

etc., etc., ad infinitum.

A lot of people have had things significantly worse, so this is definitely not an attempt to "compare griefs" as it were. This is just context for, no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise, the fact that I didn't have the mental or emotional (or temporal) space for creativity. It was one thing after another, and we were just trying to keep our heads above water.

Even when we'd mostly recovered from the hits that just kept comin', we moved away from what my wife lovingly refers to as the "trauma house", and she started a teaching job at a brand-new school. Both were good things, but they were pretty big transitions, and it takes time for the ol' brains to adjust. We love our new home now and have a bit more breathing room.

Okay but also I HAVE been working on ProtoDungeon. Dev was really sporadic, but it did happen. The next post will have more detail on the status of Episode III, but there were kind of two big things I worked on during the past three years, big shifts in the foundation of ProtoDungeon and The Waking Cloak.

First, I switched game perspective. I made a few posts about this a while back, but PD/TWC interiors were originally like Zelda interiors (where you see the insides of all four walls). There are good reasons to do this, but it was also kinda making me crazy. So I switched to a more natural front-perspective, keeping things consistent with the exteriors. It definitely was the right choice for the game I wanted to build, but it took time.

Second, and building on that, I made the game fully faux-3D. You can walk behind or in front of stuff--not something the old Zelda games did, and still pretty rare for 2D games. I was toying with the idea for a long time, but I played through an old PlayStation title, Alundra, and that convinced me it could be done. It's way harder than you might expect, and it was a massive block for me for literally years. I was able to slowly work my way past it and finally resolved it with a 3D z-tilting method, but dev slowed to a crawl.

And that's it for now! The ghost releases you from your vision of Spacefarer Past….

Thanks for reading :)

[jakekiszkasleftnutsack]

Fan Service - Chapter 2

Josh Kiszka x f!reader

. . . . . . .

Read Chapter 1 here

Summary: After a passionate night in Josh’s dressing room it’s time to camp for another round of DIG. What could the universe possibly have on deck to ruin the third concert in the Michigan lineup?

Warnings: 18+ content minors DNI, swearing, feelings, pining, fingering, dom!Josh, unprotected sex (advised against), oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink, general roughness, etc.

W/c: 7.5k

A/n: Here it is. It’s been a minute since I’ve been this motivated to write so the timeline is a little wonky, just pretend it makes sense ok. I appreciate everyone who sent me requests and suggestions for this series, and special thanks as always to my gresties for cheering me on. Again, apologies for my shameless self insert. Hopefully we like where this story goes, let me know your thoughts! Thank you for the continued support, i love you all!

Edited by the lovely @gretasamfeettt

Vibes: Something About You - Level 42 and golden hour - JVKE

. . . . . . .

Being born and raised in the Midwest has made you mostly impartial to the cold. You’d spent many a chilly night around dying campfires, many afternoons skiing down powdered hills, and even more mornings trudging through snowbanks just to get to school. Spending ten hours trying to sleep on cold concrete with only a tent to protect you from the early March wind and snow, however, is turning out to be a little out of your comfort zone.

You don’t really mind though, you’d happily suffer through any amount of discomfort to see your favorite band, and having your two best friends with you does dull the pain somewhat. It had been their idea originally to camp out for the slew of shows happening in your area, so you all bought your tickets months in advance and spent the days leading up meticulously preparing. The vibe has been a bit off ever since you rejoined your group the night before, haphazardly dressed after a romp with a rockstar, but they seem excited for you all the same.

Now that you’ve had time to register the events of the night before, you’re scared shitless. You were living in the moment, but when time resumed its normal pace, the reality that Josh Kiszka picked you is almost too much to bear. You were hesitant to give up too many details when they tried to poke and prod them out of you, even if it meant they would believe you to be mildly full of shit. Hell, you can hardly believe it yourself, but there’s no part of you that’s willing to risk breaking his confidence. The experience you shared with Josh was special to you, and you will not be souring it by any means.

You look down at your phone and reread the last text he sent you, ‘I better see you there.

Josh does own a cell phone and uses it quite often, to your complete surprise. After you rejoined your friends the previous night and began the drive to the next city on your roster, you texted your name to the number he gave you. He texted back immediately to wish you a good night, and when morning came and you wished him good luck he returned with that little crumb.

He wants to see me again… Of all people…

He’s probably just being polite…

“Smile for Joshy!” You extend your arm to snap a selfie, posing in line outside the venue to send him in return. The bundled faces of you and your friends are doing their best to smile through clenched teeth and not look frigid in the Michigan winter air.

The caption reads ‘Camping out just to be sure you do’, and you send it off after gaining an approving nod from everyone.

“I’m not convinced this isn’t some sort of elaborate ruse,” your best friend, Quinn, jests after dropping the smile she forced for the picture. “If you’re Josh Kiszka’s sneaky link now then how come we don’t have backstage passes?”

“Ohh my god. I’m not some clout chaser, I can’t just ask him for things ‘cause he paid attention to me once.” You scoff slightly at the insinuation. How could you possibly ask that man for anything after he already gave you the time of day?

Your answer must not be satisfactory, prompting a retort back. “Okay, but he gave you his phone number, and he’s still texting you? If he didn’t like you he would’ve just let you leave. I saw the way he watched you get whisked away, it was like a fucking romance movie.”

He did give me his number, some random one-night stands I’ve had haven’t even given me their phone numbers afterward. Maybe there’s a point there..

The thought feels so ridiculous in your mind you barely want to let it take root. He’s already taking up so much of your headspace, letting the idea that you might have a chance with him seems much too dangerous of a concept.

“Would you stop getting my hopes up? Everybody knows they don’t have groupies… plus he just slept with me the one time, it didn’t mean anything.” You trail off, suddenly disappointed with yourself for remembering that small fact.

Disappointed about what? Getting attached already? Pitiful.

“Who said anything about being a groupie? I’m sure that’s not the reason he doesn’t show all his fuck buddies off to the masses.” Nina, the third part of your little trio, chimes in. “If I had known that getting beat up in the pit was the way to bag a Kiszka I would’ve knocked my own ass out in front of them a long time ago.”

“Why does everyone keep saying I got beat up?!”

. . .

Not too much later, your phone lights up, his name is on the screen accompanied by a silly picture of him you had saved. Highway Tune plays loud and clear through the speaker, but all you can do is stare as your fight or flight response kicks into gear. Beyond unprepared for an event like this, you turn your hand to show your friends the screen with a deer in headlights look on your face.

“Speakerphone, bitch. Now!” Nina screams at you frantically as the opportunity slips away.

Fuck.

With an appropriate sense of urgency, you clear your throat and swipe across the glass to answer with a cute but casual “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” In your experience, no introduction means business. Even when separated by the phone and however many miles, his slightly acidic tone gives you chills.

“Camping! Ya know, for the barricade!”

“You mean you’re outside the damn arena right now?” He sounds relatively calm in contrast to the intensity of his words, it’s hard to tell if he’s really angry or not.

“Well yeah! It’s how you get to be up front… you do know what goes down at your shows, right?” you giggle in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Y/n… How long have you been out there?”

“I don’t know… some hours…” You dart your eyes to the girls, silently begging them to not say a word about how you drove through the night on no sleep from the previous show to get right back in line for another.

“It’s freezing fucking cold outside, absolutely not, I won’t have it.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“You won’t have it? It’s what everybody does, honestly, it’s fine I have my friends with me. It’s part of the whole experience.”

A contemplative sigh comes from his end of the line followed by a long pause.

“Josh?” You hear some distant voices and shuffling around coming from whoever he’s taken a second to speak to.

“Your friends can come too.” He finally answers.

“Josh, what are you…you’re not sending another goon to kidnap me again, are you?”

“Yeah Peach, stay put for me alright?” The line beeps dead, leaving everyone's jaws dropped at the audacity.

After a moment passes, Quinn is the first to say something. “So. Peach, huh?”

. . .

Faster than you had expected, a wide guy in a baseball cap with a scruffy beard approaches you and your friends in line. You instantly recognize him to be the same guy that rescued you from the pit and kept you like a present for Josh backstage the night before.

“Hey, it’s you!” You exclaim, relieved to be seeing a somewhat familiar face.

“Nice to see you again, Miss y/n. Mr. Kiszka asked me to show you and your friends inside.”

Slightly panicked glances are being shot all around amongst yourselves as you pack up your stuff, unsure of the unorthodox situation that won’t stop unfolding. Gossipy murmurs and glares are shot your way from those in line who may have been snooping, but once your blankets and chairs are picked up he leads you around the side of the building to a door out of sight from the other campers.

“What’s your name?” You ask him as you follow his lead close behind. “Since you know my name I don’t wanna keep calling you security boy.”

He chuckles and shoots a smile over his shoulder. “I’m Trevor, but security boy is fine if you like it.”

“Okay, security boy. How long have you worked for Josh?”

“I’ve been head security for the band for a couple months now.”

“I thought they just used venue security, I never see them out and about with bodyguards.”

“You’re half right. I mostly oversee the local security teams at the concerts and events, but they’ve been needing personal security more than usual lately. Besides, I’m pretty much an assistant at this point with how much they have me run errands like this.”

“Oh, so I’m just another errand, huh?”

“I’m more like your babysitter at this point, don’t you think?” You share a laugh, and instantly tension begins to ease.

You arrive at a small dressing room, which he unlocks and opens up for your group to drop your coats. One by one he hands you each a lanyard with a badge attached, indicating your new security clearance.

“You can warm up and get changed in here, I’ll come to get you when it’s time to head on out. I’ll leave ya to it.”

Josh has him ‘run errands’ a lot, I hope this isn’t something he’s used to…

“Wait…” Standing in the doorway once your group has started unpacking, you fight with yourself for a moment about whether you should ask the million-dollar question. “Is Josh… does he do this a lot? I mean…”

It rolls out with the most pathetically apprehensive voice you’ve ever had the displeasure of speaking, upon hearing it you wish you could take it back. He looks at you for a moment but ultimately seems to take pity on you and places a hand on your shoulder. “No ma’am, he doesn’t.”

He seems earnest enough, and you believe him as much as two strangers can trust each other in these kinds of circumstances. His gesture is enough to soothe a bit of the self-doubt that hasn’t left you alone for about 24 hours.

“Thank you, Trevor.” He touches the bill of his hat and tips it with a gentlemanly nod and half a smile before turning away, leaving you to close the door behind him.

. . .

As the lot of you are getting ready, putting makeup on, and doing your hair, you hear a knock on the door followed by Trevor’s voice. “You ladies decent?”

“Yeah, come in”. You answer without looking up from the flick of eyeliner you’re expertly applying in the mirror.

The door clicks open and the honey-smooth voice floats in before the man himself. “How’s everything coming along in here?,” he says, casual as can be. You flicker your attention up to catch his cocky smile when he enters still in his street clothes. You can’t help but chuckle a little to yourself as you watch your friends attempt to stifle their reactions, but ultimately fail while tripping over each other to meet him.

He greets them politely, asking their names and apologizing for any discomfort in rooting you from your spots in line. As any good fangirl would, they decline his apology and thank him for the opportunity to be inside instead.

“The guys and I were all really worried about everyone out there in the cold, but we know you’re all so dedicated, we couldn’t stop you if we tried.” They agree with him, giggling shamelessly at the charm that seems to come so naturally to him. Watching him interact with fans after knowing how he acts in private is almost comical.

“We really do appreciate you setting aside a spot for us, we know you’re really busy.” You pipe up for the first time.

Gross. You really couldn’t think of anything better to say? Idiot.

He locks eyes with you from where you’re standing against the mirror at the back of the room but says nothing, apart from the way his lips twitch when he takes in the sight of you. Even the blind would be able to notice the instantaneous effect you have on him.

“We didn’t think you guys really knew each other” Nina blurts out while the two odd girls out watch something unspoken bounce back and forth between you.

“Oh no, we definitely know each other. Isn’t that right y/n?” You know the question is rhetorical, but you tip your chin slightly in agreement anyway, a blistering heat behind your eyes. “Would I be able to get a few minutes alone with your friend here, if you guys don’t mind? She’ll join you in a moment, Trevor is just out in the hall to show you to some snacks.”

They nod and scurry out of the room, offering supportive glances, a suggestive wink, and a pair of smiles from behind his back as they file out quicker than you can protest.

His entire demeanor changes when the two of you are left standing alone in the confines of the dressing room, free from anything that could act as a buffer. He was gracious and polite with your friends, clearly putting on a little bit, but you’re with a different person once he shuts and locks the door behind them. Just like the other night, the tension in the surrounding air is palpable.

Don’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t be desperate and weird. You can do this y/n, be confident and breathe.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to do all this, Josh.” You set down your eyeliner on the counter behind you, doing your best to appear nonchalant despite your heart doing its very best to pound its way out of your chest. As exciting as being in his presence is, you’re also terrified to your core. The energy shift is so seamless you have no room to be rattled by his next move.

Josh shakes his head as he strides towards you, as if hearing the silliest words ever spoken into existence. He closes the gap between you in a few short paces, trapping you in place against the counter. There are barely a few inches between your bodies but you’re steadfast in your cool as a cucumber facade, no matter how unconvincing it may be.

“As much as I appreciate the time you’re willing to put in, I wish you had told me you were gonna wait out in the cold. I could’ve saved you so much earlier.”

“I didn’t really think that was an option. I don’t expect any special treatment.” You long to reach out and touch him, to tear down the invisible barrier holding you back. It’s scary, like there’s some sort of rule you’d be breaking if you did. You’re just trying to be respectful, when in reality that’s the last thing you want to do.

“You should. I can’t give it to everybody but I can give it to you.” Your cheeks flush red forcing you to look down and away from him to avoid getting too flustered, only for him to raise your chin again with one finger to keep your eyes on him, ensuring you really hear what he has to say. “You’re not part of the general population anymore mama, you’re my sweet peach, remember?”

In the wake of his genuinely sweet albeit loaded comment, a wave of emotion returns to blindside you, shattering your smoke screen of indifference like a freight train.

Does he crave me in the same way I crave him?

Could he ever feel anything close to what I feel?

I idolize and ache for him, but what does he think of me?

He’s already been inside me. He’s already had more of me than most other men ever have.

I’ve earned his favor and attention, why am I so quick to reject it?

Does he pity me?

What if he just pities me…

“I’m scared.” You choke out. Without a high to hide behind there’s nothing to stop your bleeding heart from exploding right here in his hands. He catches up with your train of thought though and is so quick to reassure you it might as well be second nature.

“Y/n, what are you scared of?” his eyes flicker back and forth as he searches yours.

“That none of this is real.” you feel you should elaborate but you can’t. Any attempt at trying to explain the thoughts that have been gnawing at you would come out like word vomit. Some preconceived notion you cooked up in your paralyzing anxiety is telling you not to act like his stardom has any effect on you. You’ve wrapped yourself in a cage of barbed wire made of your own cowardice, only to be cut open if a single wrong move is made. He probably goes out of his way to avoid girls like that, so you exercise the minimal restraint you feel capable of to keep it short. Out of fear, of course.

Ever so delicately he takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and ghosts your knuckles along the baby soft skin that rests there. In a breath he leaves a kiss, focusing on the spot for a moment before returning focus to your wet eyes.

“Last night I asked you to trust me and you did, and I took good care of you. Do you still trust me?”

You nod your head.

“Then trust that I’ll continue to take care of you, okay? This is real, I’m real. Look…” he bares his teeth over the back of your hand and play bites it, making you gasp mostly in surprise but you laugh it off crudely, your heart flutters. “See? You’re real too, Peach.”

Of course, Josh would never miss a beat. Of course, all it would take is a teaspoon of vulnerability to prompt him to keep the floodgates from giving way completely to whatever bullshit mess you could concoct.

Stop being so foolish.

You sniffle away the remnants of what could have been a colossal breakdown and crack a smile at him through batted lashes. “Peach.. Is that my name now?”

He nods, moving his lips against your skin again. “I like it, think it’s cute, don’t you?”

“Mhm, it is… I could’ve braved through the cold ya know, hands down.”

“Would you stop complaining every time I try to rescue you?” he snorts in a teasing way that makes you giggle and bite your lip like a little kid with a crush. You try not to get distracted by his chestnut brown eyes, shining bright.

“Anything for you.” For good measure, you toss in a flirty wink with your same line from the night before.

“Again with that shit, babygirl.. I oughta spank you for getting me worked up before a performance. God, you are relentless!”

Finally, you decide to stop fighting the magnetic energy pulling you toward him and lean into his frame. “And I don’t even have to say please?”

A choked moan barely escapes him, and he plays it off with a fake as hell cough that only serves to make you giggle.

“Fuck…” he gives you another quick once over in your concert outfit, smoothing over where he’s wrinkled it in a few spots and breaks out in a smirk, still holding your chin in place to keep you from looking elsewhere, “You look delicious, Peach. Are you me this time?”

The outfit in question just so happens to be a top modeled after the jumpsuit he wore in Los Angeles during the Strange Horizons tour paired with a miniskirt. Pure groupie behavior, yet again. You do your best not to roll your eyes at yourself.

“So, I didn’t plan on meeting you when I picked out my-“ in very Joshua fashion, he just can’t wait until the end of your sentence to swoop in for a bruising, searing hot open mouthed kiss that almost makes you stumble. Your lips mash together sloppily but you don’t care. You just want to feel like he has to have you, maybe he really does.

“How’s that bruised peach doing?” His words are barely intelligible at the lowest end of his register and doesn’t wait for an answer before reaching for the hem of your skirt. “Show me.”

You let him spin you around and hike up your skirt around your hips so he has full access to the panties adorning the purple blotches on your skin. There hasn’t been quite enough time for you to inspect the damage made by your fall, but he’s careful to avoid it.

“I know they’re pretty ugly.” you try to avoid thinking about it, instead focusing on his hand that’s made its way between your legs and is exploring the lacy edge of your panties. Another part of you is hoping the edge of the counter won’t crack under your iron-clad grip on it, purely keeping your knees from losing their integrity.

“Hush, sweetness. Look.” his free hand wraps around you to grab your chin, forcing your gaze upon the mirror you’ve found yourself facing. “See how beautiful you are? Nothing could taint that.”

Right then, he slips his hand under the lace and dives into your slit, already wet to the touch. You’re not sure why watching his hand move obscenely against you has you feeling so embarrassed, but when you see your own cheeks turning rosy you try to turn and protest the position. “Josh..”

“Don’t look away. Watch me.” he holds you still, pressing two of his fingers into you with a squelch. Watching yourself was one thing, but seeing the look on his face when he makes contact with that heavenly gummy texture is something that will be seared into your mind forever. It’s close to a look of pain, like he can’t stand just how unreal you feel to him.

“Good God, y/n.” he stays tucked inside for a few pumps of his wrist before leaving your warmth to press those drenched fingers to your lips. You don’t need a command this time to open up and lick them clean.

“How can I possibly focus on putting on a good show when you’re out here distracting me? Saboteur, that’s what you are!”

“And how am I supposed to enjoy the music I paid good money to see if you’re just gonna be making me horny? Are you going to repay me?”

“Well… you got me there. Maybe if you behave.”

. . .

Now, typically when one has backstage passes to a concert, that usually grants access to back stage. It’s right there in the name. However, you camped with your friends for however long before Joshua stepped in, and your hopes have been set on snagging a spot at the barricade. It’s not something you’re all too fond of giving up on.

Once Josh had released you from his grasp and excused himself to get ready, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek as you part ways, your friends returned with the news that the doors were about to open. It took some light convincing on your part, but Trevor agreed to let you into the pit early so you can secure a spot up front. Watching from backstage the night before was really cool, of course it was, but this is an experience you’d been dreaming of for just as long. Josh Kiszka is not going to be the reason you miss it.

Standing where you are now, directly in front of where he’ll be standing shortly with the gardens gate key hanging high above you, your stomach is firmly planted in your ass. The openers were amazing, adding to the intense build up of the curtain dropping any minute now. You feel almost more nervous now than you did the first time around, but this time it’s a different breed.

When the curtain finally falls and the shrieks of the girls around you dampen your senses, he’s right where he’s supposed to be and instant relief washes over you. Chest puffed out, wide stance, head held high, utterly ecstatic. You can trace his eyes scanning the audience, taking in the sheer mass of the crowd and every face that he can make out. Until they land on you. It’s subtle, but you can tell he wasn’t expecting to see you there, cheering for him as he so deserves.

“Give me my money’s worth, baby!” you don’t care if he can hear you or not, you’re not even sure of the words that spewed out. Everybody knows the most unhinged thoughts sometimes slip in the presence of these men anyway.

He lingers on you with the smuggest expression, a hint of deviance mixed in as well, and licks his lips before diving into the lyrics of their first song.

Yeah, he heard me, that little fucker.

Song after song you hype him up, screaming his name and blowing him kisses, singing along to every single word. Each and every time he lands in front of you he does something ridiculously out of pocket and slutty. Whether it be thrusting his hips, licking his lips, or growling into the damn microphone, he makes eye contact with you every single time.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail.

Oh my god. He’s actually taunting me…

“Who’s misbehaving now, Joshy!?” you scream when he lets a particularly moan-like cry sound out through the arena. It’s your last straw when he sticks his tongue out at you in response. All you can think about is how badly you want to see that tongue somewhere else, and how you want to make him pay for his actions when you finally can.

He’s incorrigible

As the end of Safari Song dawns you recognize the familiar rhythm that marks the beginning of Danny’s drum solo. A fluttering feeling returns to your chest with the realization, because the drum solo also happens to be when Josh rides the shoulders of a security guard to pass out roses.

When he reaches you, he places a rose purposefully in your hand and you try not to swoon when he winks at you from his high horse. He’ll be coming back around shortly to have some face-to-face time with his adoring fans, but with how hard he’s been throwing his sexuality around the stage for the whole world to see you quickly try to think of something that will make him swoon back.

Like a wave, the screaming and shuffling of young women starts to crawl back in your direction, and you’ve finally settled on your move as he appears in your line of sight once again. Instead of blindly reaching for him hoping for just a touch of attention like everyone else, you make eye contact with him as he approaches and hold out your hand open faced. He seems to think nothing of the out of the ordinary gesture and reaches out. In a split second, you fake him out as he’s about to grab your hand, surpassing his grasp to reach up as far as you can.

“Hi baby” is all you can think to say, but it’s more than enough. You can make out the words ‘Hi Peach’ move across his lips with no accompanying sound. Somewhere in the process he catches on and bends just slightly to close the gap for you, never once breaking the eye contact you’re trying so hard to hold. As you reach his face you caress his cheek, using your thumb to slightly grace his bottom lip until he’s pulled out of range.

The exchange barely lasted more than a few heartbeats, but the impact is profound. You didn’t believe it was possible to actually see stars in someone’s eyes until the whole universe manifested in Josh’s. There’s remnants of a blush on the apples of his cheeks when he hops back on stage, and you do your best to vacate the butterflies from your stomach as the show carries on oblivious to your secret.

. . .

After the show ends and the house lights come up, you take your pictures and exchange socials with the girls around you that had bonded with you between sets. Then, once everything has substantially died down, you exchange quick glances at your friends before hopping over the barricade and flashing your security badges at the men who immediately try to stop you.

It’s a funny feeling, floating around backstage aimlessly. You eventually are able to latch onto the sound of Trevor’s voice and follow it until you see the boys huddled around talking, already changed out of their concert attire. Sam and Jake notice you before he does, but you tap Josh on the shoulder anyway. When he turns he smiles like the sunshine boy he is, rushes to you without hesitation and wraps his arms around you, picks you up, and spins you around like you’re old friends in an airport who haven’t seen each other in years.

“Holyyy shit, Peach! Did you get your money’s worth?” he cries gleefully as he sets you down and squishes your cheeks between his palms, knocking loose a few rhinestones you had placed there.

“And more! You acted like a proper slut out there!”

“Thank you, thank you, I try my best. I didn’t expect you to be right in front! You almost had me for a minute there, mama.”

“Yeah, well you deserved it.”

“Ahem,” Jake slaps a hand down on Josh’s shoulder and turns his attention to you. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Dear brother, why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”

You take matters into your own hands and thrust yours out to him, which he shakes warmly smiling a devilish grin to match. “Hello Jacob, I’m y/n.”

“Ahhh so this is the dreamboat that kept you so preoccupied last night!?” Sam interjects, pulling you away from the twins and into a hug that you were not prepared for but accept happily anyway.

“Hi Sammy, sorry for keeping him from his important frontman duties.”

“Well shit, he’s not that important.” he laughs, jabbing a playful shove at his eldest brother's shoulder, prompting a scuffle to ensue that you carefully step away from. In taking a step back you bump into Danny, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed watching the encounter unfold.

“Oops, sorry.” he catches and steadies you, keeping you from taking a tumble when you try to correct yourself but instead misstep.

I just cannot stop being clumsy for two seconds, can I?

“You sweet, sweet angel. You never have to apologize to me Danny,” already being in close proximity, you wrap him in the biggest hug you can manage. “That was my bad anyway.”

“Oh, wow. You’re so sweet, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, my friend.” you try not to think about how that was the best hug anyone has ever given you.

You introduce your friends to the rest of the band one at a time and return to Josh’s side, allowing everyone to get their hugs in, some lingering a bit longer than they should. Everyone mingles with each other discussing the events of the night, laughing about things that were thrown on stage and signs that were made until you notice Josh’s arm snaking its way around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he whispers in your ear, “To the hotel this time?”

If smiles were contagious the one that splits your face in that moment would have everyone infected.

“Love to.” you nod to emphasize your point then turn to say your goodbyes to Quinn and Nina, who are probably just fine being left in their present company. The last thing you need is a thousand missed texts and calls from them if you were to just disappear into the night. Josh does no such thing and makes his move to whisk you away rather hastily.

Trevor, who was standing close by, escorts the two of you outside, blocking you from the view of a small huddle of girls waiting for a glimpse of the boys. You must have stood around talking for too long based on how many of them have accumulated. You make your way to a blacked out car waiting with a driver ready to go, and slide in as quickly as possible. It’s a short drive to the hotel but Josh insists on taking a moment to pick a song for the journey before taking off.

“Come on, Joshua” you roll your eyes playfully as he scrolls through an endless playlist.  

“Shut up and hear me out, okay? The song choice is important!”

The first couple notes of Your Love play through the speakers, but he turns to you slowly to see your reaction like he just told you he knows your deepest darkest secrets.

“I thought you guys were supposed to have pretentious music taste?” you tease. 

“What?! You don’t like this song? Who doesn’t like this song?!”

He breaks into song in the middle of the lyrics at the top of his lungs just for you, clearly to annoy you, but little does he know that everything he’s ever done is endearing beyond comprehension.  You might have even been disappointed if he didn’t pull something that gave you just a tinge of secondhand embarrassment.  His charisma and silliness are becoming and the way he’s singing, waiting for you to give in and humor him has you jumping in at the chorus, matching his energy.  It’s the power ballad to end all power ballads.

I’m singing with Josh Kiszka.  Josh is singing to me.  What the fuck is my life becoming? 

As the music fades out of the chorus and you’re left giggling at the antics, you look out your open window to feel the wind on your face and revel in the ambiance of the next song paired with passing street lights against a black sky.  If you were paying attention you’d see Josh’s stare never left you.  He’s watching you, fawning over you, taken by your beauty as you admire the night.

. . .

Josh lets you into the room first to venture in on your own, you look around briefly at nothing in particular until you hear the door close and lock. When he doesn’t immediately come to you, you turn to catch him subtly admiring you. He meets your gaze and reaches a hand out to you, his eyes are soft but set ablaze with determination.

“I don’t think you know how magnetic you are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You take his hand, and once they’ve met he pulls you towards him, only to be turned and pressed against the wall at your back. He kisses you passionately just like earlier, you can feel the adrenaline thumping his heart against his ribcage so hard you think you could see it beneath his supple skin if you weren’t so occupied.

He grabs your ass with both hands and slides them down the backs of your thighs, guiding each one with an effortless lift to rest around his waist. You didn’t expect him to be so strong, but he cradles you with such care despite how ravenously his mouth moves down your chin to lap at your throat. In the darkest depths of your mind, you wish he would take a bite.

You grind your hips against the nearest thing you can, which happens to be his stomach, it heaves at the motion causing you to groan. Every little move you make elicits a clear visceral reaction, making the pit in your stomach tunnel deeper by the minute.

You want to tell him to tear you apart.  You want to tell him to bury himself inside you and stay there until he’s contemplated his own existence, twice.  All that you’re able to form into a coherent thought is “Joshy, more…” 

“Making demands already?” he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You take no notice of his taunt and start pulling at his clothes blindly, making no real progress towards getting them off, to his amusement. An unmistakable poke makes itself known against your panties, which happen to be exposed to the air by the shortness of your skirt in your current position.

“Don’t ignore me, princess.” he runs his teeth along your collarbone as he digs into the meat of your thigh with his fingers, and a tortured moan vibrates out of you in return. “What do you say when you want something?”

“Please!” you practically scream “Dear God, please. Please just fuck me already!” The last of your self respect flies out the window, but to be fair it’s mostly been absent since he stepped out on stage to fuck the entire stadium.

One of his hands leaves your body, awkwardly and desperately reaching to unbuckle his pants, your faces pressed together cheek to cheek. You hold onto his shoulders on instinct to keep from falling to the floor, though he has you pinned so tightly between the wall and his own body you could let go of him entirely and remain in place. Your cunt pulses in anticipation when he ruts his freed cock against the thin material covering you. The wetness of your panties must be ridiculous, as the shaky breath coming from him feels beyond depraved.

“Y/n, oh my.. Fuck.” he slides it against the material once more while holding you still, using you in a sense, taking what he needs, and you wait patiently while he does.

Because that’s what good girls do.

He praises you while he reaches to pull your panties to the side and nuzzles his tip against your entrance. His head rolls back when he thrusts inside, leaving you huffing quick and shallow breaths against his ear, wisps of his hair tickling your nose as they’re blown around. He hums a sound of delight and settles into a comfortable yet delicious rhythm of bucking his hips up to meet your core.

“Who’s good girl are you? Say it.” he sounds like he might be close to his climax, so you humor him and fist your hand into his hair just how he likes it.

“I’m yours, Josh. I’m your good girl.”

I belong to you.  I always will.

He whines at your response and his pace changes, speeding up but stuttering. He claws at your delicate top, tearing it at the neckline to rip down the middle, exposing your bouncing breasts to him in a way that would ignite the most perverted parts of any man’s brain.

“Are you gonna cum in me, baby?” you tighten your walls around him, approaching your own feeling of ecstasy.

He just nods fervently and adjusts his grip on your ass, his fingers wandering as far as they can to grab a handful until they’re almost touching in the middle. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t for him to use his grip to spread your cheeks, parting your folds to allow him an unobstructed reach into your depths. “I can’t fucking wait, I’m gonna…” he strains to speak, fucking into you to the hilt as he twitches inside you and cum overflows from your meeting point as he completely loses himself in you.

Carefully, he steps back with you still in his arms, retreating to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Still straddling him, you settle onto his cock which has yet to soften.

“I’m sorry, Peach. I got too excited.” his head rests on your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“No, don’t be sorry. I wanted you to cum, it feels good.”

“You can feel it?” the genuine surprise on his face when he looks up at you in pleased shock makes you giggle, and the sight of your delight makes him laugh along with you as he moves his hands to rub little circles over your hardened nipples.

“Yeah I can, I feel it right here… deep inside.” you place one finger between his hips in the center of his abdomen and press down, making him giggle uncontrollably and lurch to swat at your hand.

“No no no no, I’m ticklish!”

You hold your hands up in surrender, and after the laughing subsides, he lays back on the bed, sprawling out under your weight. “Well, I’m not gonna let you leave empty handed. Get up here.” he gestures for you to follow him by curling his finger at you and licks his lips.

You slide him out of you and shift your weight to move up his body until his head is between your legs.

“Other way, mama. Turn around.” you quirk an eyebrow at him but do as he says, carefully avoiding kneeing him in the face as you turn to face his feet. As you get into position, he rests his hands on the tops of your legs. “All the way down.”

You resist the urge to laugh. “I’ll crush you.”

“No you won’t, it’s ‘kay, I got you.” he wraps his arms all the way around your legs and lowers you until his extended tongue makes contact. Immediately he goes for the motions that spark pleasure in you the most, it makes you suspect that he’s learning your body quicker than any mediocre fuckboy ever has.

How his cock is still hard as a rock is beyond you, seemingly impossible, but makes for something to keep your hands busy with while he eats you like a last meal.  You’ve spent an unreasonable amount of time on your own imagining what his cock looks like, having access to it this way feels like such a privilege.  

Taking him in your hand, you lazily work your fist over him and lean just enough to leave kitten licks on the head of his cock, teasing it and coaxing flustered noises out of him that reverberate through your whole body. You rotate your hips the slightest bit, adjusting his position without breaking his concentration as he consumes you, sucking up the juices that leak out and lapping at your clit every time you let out a broken sigh.

“Josh.. don’t stop.”. That familiar building feeling begins its ascent when he sucks your clit into his mouth, leaving you mewling as you suckle on him helplessly.

Light muffled moans just cascade out of his chest with little words of affirmation peppered in, you swear you think you heard him say ‘so perfect’ under his breath, but you can’t be sure of his incoherent ramblings. After a few moments of enjoying the perfect pressure on your most sensitive parts, you let your orgasm wash over you, and you cum on his tongue that’s ventured back to your opening to dip inside and scoop out the spoils of his efforts. You almost stop him when he continues backward to spread your own cum around your other entrance, but the warm sticky feeling he swirls around with long languid strokes paralyzes you into a fucked out stupor.

“Feel better?” he sprinkles little kisses across your thighs, craning his neck to leave more and more as you swing your leg over to relieve him of his fleshy prison and collapse onto your back.

You manage a happy sounding ‘mmm’ when he climbs on top of you to kiss each of your cheeks and retreats to your side once you reciprocate with a peck on the tip of his nose and a smile. He relaxes into the bed with you, letting one hand fall into your hair, and you just lie together in your shared bliss.

. . .

You chat about nonsense for an unknown amount of time until the chill of the room forces you to finally stand up.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom, gonna freshen up.” On the way there you grab your purse and your clothes, and thank your past self for having the foresight to pack a few toiletries in your bag the day before. As you’re about to close the door behind you, his voice stops you.

“Hey, Peach?”

“Yeah?” you poke your head back out into the room, he’s sitting up in bed and looking at you but you can’t quite place the look on his face.

“Will you… stay with me tonight? You can wear some of my clothes or I can grab some from Danny…” the concern in his voice could melt you, but you can’t tell if he’s scared of asking the question or what the answer might be. In a weird way though, it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

Be still my heart, he’s down bad. 

“Oh, sweet boy. Without question.”

. . .

Josh has to be the handsiest person you’ve ever met. Not that you’re complaining. As you climb back into bed with him he executes no self-control and pulls you into his lap by your waist. If you’re being honest though, you’d let him manhandle you when and where he pleases. Especially now, when he seems unmotivated by sex and just holds you close, but still intimate since you’ve both opted out of pajamas for the night.

You’re absentmindedly wrapping his curly locks around your fingers in the comfortable stillness of his hotel room, surrounded by smoke from the joint he lit up, and listening to him tell you all about life on the road. A quick prompt of ‘what’s the next city on the roster?’ launched a rant that you have no plans on stopping. You really should be sleeping but to silence his perfect lips would be a crime.

Except for…

“Josh?” you accidentally interrupt at the arrival of an intrusive thought.

“Yes, sweetness?”

“When you said earlier that Im not part of the general population anymore, what did you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of… infatuated with you.”

Infatuated with me? Why?

He reads the puzzled look on your face and continues.

“The way you speak about things and carry yourself. I can tell you’re special. Not only that, but from the first time I saw you I was drawn to you. It’s almost like the universe brought you to my feet. Your face was all tear-stained and your eyes were puffy but you stopped and saw me, you really saw me. I thought ‘this girl is looking into my soul’. ” too stunned to speak, you stay silent and let him carry on. “Ever since then you’ve just kept on astounding me. So when I said that I guess it was me letting you know I want you around, I want you with me.”

Holy shit. What?

. . . . . . .

thank you for reading

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[notnctu]

jaehyun: the charming

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: explicit language, nicknames, dirty talking, possessiveness, rough sex, praise kink, oral (giving and receiving), spitting, choking, unprotected (wrap up yall!!) ☆ WC: 4.1k ☆ SYNOPSIS: A harmless game of Truth Or Dare with your housemates reveals Jaehyun’s true desires and has him eyeing you the entire night.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: this is the only part for jaehyun ! sorry for the long wait,, i started this during my writing hiatus and did not have much motivation to finish it since its been really difficult to write smut lately :/ regardless, i hope you can leave me some feedback if you liked it <3 doyoung’s part will be the next in the series once i get to it !

“If you could kiss anyone in this room right now, who would it be?” Johnny beckons his drink to Jaehyun, who blinks at him with knitted eyebrows and a quizzical expression.

It’s one of those rare nights where all your housemates are home and Doyoung is actually out of his room to participate in everyone’s foolishness. All six of you sit comfortably in the living room as the fifth round of Truth or Dare commences. 

You share the large couch with Jaemin and Haechan, sandwiching you in between them happily. Doyoung, Jaehyun and Johnny are seated in their own respective chairs that circle the tiny coffee table in the center. 

And if your housemates could be any more distracting, Jaehyun sits laid-back without a shirt on and grey sweatpants that fit loosely on his legs, manspreading as if he has all the space in the world. His soft hair falls messily around his face from constantly running his hands through it and his abs flex without him needing to do much.

It’s hard not to stare, but no one in the room calls you out for doing so. They’ve all stared at you plenty enough times on other occasions, so it would be hard for any of them to give you a counterargument. Jaehyun simply looks good enough to devour, and he can say the same for you as he steals sly glances your way.

Every subtle connection of smoldering eye contact sends a thrill down your core, and the smirk paired with his dotted dimple has you swooning for him over and over. Jaehyun knows every way to drive you wild without needing to say or touch you.

It’s unbelievable how that man has only allowed you to see his intimacy once with the way he whistles whenever you walk down the stairs in a cute outfit or how often he compliments your butt just for the pure satisfaction of you having one. Despite having the highest body count in the entire house, he has great self control and never comes off as being too needy. 

And every time he is needy, he already has another girl in his room to satisfy him. So, this never gave you another opportunity to sleep with him as much as you wanted to. If you weren’t so bashful, you might’ve had enough courage to just walk into his room and ask. 

Nonetheless, here you both are: sitting across from each other during a slowly escalating game of Truth or Dare and eyeing each other every chance you can get.

“Shouldn’t you ask y/n that question?” Jaehyun mumbles, finding Johnny’s question rather ridiculous since the ratio in the room is 1 girl to 5 guys and finds no curiosity to know how bad of a kisser the rest of his housemates are. “I think you’d rather know her answer than mine.”

You clear your throat when every attention is drawn toward you, expecting you to give a truthful response when it isn’t even your turn. “What if I didn’t pick truth?”

“You want a dare?” Jaemin rests a hand on your bare thigh and turns delightfully toward you with a dark mischievous gleam in his eye.

Gulping, you try your best to diffuse the situation. “It’s not my turn.” 

“I’ll give my turn to you.” Jaehyun smiles and proceeds to gesture toward you to speak.

Bewildered, you’re looking to Doyoung to protest about such unfair grounds of switching the rules. However, he doesn’t say a word, shrugging it off like it’s not a big deal. “You’re all unbelievable.” You scoff sarcastically.

“C’mon, it’s just a friendly game. Everyone wants you to go.” Haechan clicks his tongue out of impatience, the anticipation practically suffocating the whole house.

“Ask me when it’s my turn.” You stand your ground and send Jaehyun a quick glare. 

The tension drops instantly from the stiff atmosphere. Haechan’s groan erupts beside you as he sits back against the couch with his arms crossed. 

“Okay, buttercup. I’ll answer Johnny’s ridiculous question, but know that I have a good one for you.” Jaehyun leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together loosely. “I’d kiss y/n.” 

Your breath hitches, but no one else is actually surprised by his answer. “Yeah, I’d kiss y/n too if this was my selection pool.” Doyoung remarks with a roll in his eyes.

“I mean,” Jaehyun sits back coolly in his chair, hands stretched behind his head and every muscle flexed in view. Every movement has your mouth watering at his impressive body on display. “Even if we were playing with other people, I’d still choose y/n.” A dimple smile causes your heart to beat rapidly.

Johnny scoffs, “if we circled up all your flings, you’d still choose y/n?” 

Jaehyun ponders the hypothetical for a second, but his eyes land back on yours and every hesitation disappears. “Yeah. She has the softest lips.” He says, very matter of fact.

Your fingers unconsciously graze against your lips briefly, before you clear your throat and shake away the power of his arousing words. “Okay, okay. Let’s move on?” 

“Okay, y/n. Truth or Dare?” Jaehyun picks this open opportunity to bring the attention back to you. Your housemates wait patiently for your choice, with eyebrows raised in the thick tension that this simple game has built up.

With shifty eyes and a dry throat, you mutter. “Dare.” 

There is a notable sparkle in Jaehyun’s dark lustful orbs. “I dare you to kiss the person that you think is the hottest in this room.” 

“Well, it would be difficult to kiss myself.” Rolling your eyes, the edge in your tone is enough to make the rest of them snicker. 

“I’m done after this round. It’s always the weirdest twists whenever we play games like this together.” Doyoung crosses his arms, throwing a small fit at the request. 

Johnny smirks, “because you know y/n wouldn’t kiss you?” 

Doyoung’s mouth opens to protest, but he falls short of a defensive response. He takes his defeat and slumps back against the chair, pouty and grumpy. “Just get it over with and kiss Jaehyun.” 

With a turn of events, you get up from your spot on the couch. Jaehyun follows your every move, your stare never leaving his own. Like a lost puppy, you lead him into thinking the kiss would be for him. However, you lean forward and hold Doyoung’s chin gently, planting a soft kiss on the equally shocked boy. 

“I think Doyoung is the hottest because he treats me with the most chivalry.” The sweetness that taints your mocking words has Doyoung turning red and Jaehyun turning into stone. The charming smile that lights up your darkest parts is gone, and Jaehyun blinks back at you with a tight jaw. 

Jaemin and Haechan read the room too well, excusing themselves before the tension reaches its peak. Doyoung gulps, glancing between you and Jaehyun, and awkwardly makes his way back to his room. Johnny chuckles at the abrupt end of the night, patting Jaehyun’s shoulder lightly before also heading up to bed. 

Every next move is crucial. With your weight barred on your left leg, you cross your arms with as much attitude as you can to push Jaehyun’s buttons further. “Jaehyun, if you really wanted a kiss, you could just ask me without wasting a turn.”

“Where’s the fun in that, buttercup? You clearly like testing your limits.” His voice drops at the end of his sentence. Jaehyun stands up, approaching you slowly. “But if you want my attention, you could just ask me without trying to make me jealous.”

His boldness catches you off guard, leaving you a bit speechless to formulate a proper explanation. Your hesitation gets caught in your throat when Jaehyun lightly places his hand on your waist. “It’s late, we should probably get to bed.” His raspy baritone cadence rumbles your chest.

Fingers graze his arm softly, but he pulls away before you can get a hold of him. “Are you actually going to sleep?”

Jaehyun walks to the bottom of the staircase, motioning you to walk first. “No, I’ll be up thinking about you.” A smirk finishes his sensual taunt and you cautiously head up the stairs. 

He follows directly after you and a whistle escapes his lips. “Have I given you your daily ass compliment yet?”

“Got one this morning.” With each step, Jaehyun is quick to match. 

“Well, you look amazing everyday.” He meets you at the top of the steps and when you’re ready to part back into your room, he stops you. “Where’s my kiss goodnight, baby?” 

You can’t possibly count the numerous times you’ve rolled your eyes being around him. “In my room, if you dare wish to enter.” Though your statement was clearly sarcastic, Jaehyun raises an questionable eyebrow. 

“I’ll only come if you let me in.” His innocent eyes do not match his sinister tone and his hidden innuendos. 

“I guess I always go into your room, it would be nice to have a change.” Taking his hand, you lead him down the hallway. The doors of your other housemates are oddly closed, but you figured they wanted some privacy. His warm hand feels rough against your palm and your heart drums as you two inch closer to your bedroom.

Jaehyun gently closes your door and examines your room as if he’s never been inside. “Don’t be a stranger.” You say, dropping his hand and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“Do you leave your underwear drawer open for all your friends to see?” He snickers, his pinky holding your special red lace panties up in the air. Your eyes go wide as you quickly yank the material out of his possession and shove the cabinet closed.

“I wouldn’t have figured you were the nosey type.” You grumble, but he takes this close proximity to pull you into his bare chest. His firm hand gives your ass a soft squeeze.

“It was quite obviously on display.” His dark whisper sends a chill down your spine and butterflies to swirl in the pit of your core. The faint smell of his body wash suffocates you all around and his sultry stare has you melting in his hands. It is so difficult to resist him, you want everything that is Jung Jaehyun.

Your words are quite possibly caught in your throat, but the hesitation does not show in your expression. Lightly, your fingertips trace the outline of his biceps and his dark stare follows every drag. Admittedly, Jaehyun will find any excuse to grab your attention. Call him possessive for no good reason, but something inside him bubbles with envy whenever your other housemates even leave a lingering stare.

Although he’s not the type to be vocal about it, his facial expressions speak volumes. May it be his competitive nature, but he can’t let the others have you. You have unknowingly become off-limits to the rest, but frankly, you don’t care all too much. Your prize is already in front of you.

“Are you going to kiss me or do I have to wait all night again?” With every will, you try your best to control the nervous tremble in your bold rhetorical question.

Jaehyun wastes no more time; soft lips crash into your own and you feel like you’re floating. Only he can make you feel this way. Hands in hair, the tug on his fresh locks has him moaning through the kiss. Jaehyun loses himself in you, rubbing his semi-hard cock against your thigh and gripping your ass harshly in his hand.

Every drip of saliva is swapped in the mess of your connected mouths and you’re reminded of how rough this man enjoys to be. Your knees buckle at the thought of him and Jaehyun is quick to hold you up, placing you strategically at the end of your bed. 

Pulling away, he stands in front of you with the largest dick print against his sweatpants, along with a small wet spot. There are no bashful words exchanged as the room is filled with heavy breathing and sultry looks. Jaehyun guides your hand to his waistband, silently waiting for you to free him.

Looking up at your beautiful boy, the neediness of release almost ruins his perfect charming look. Hair is tousled wildly across his eyes and his bottom lip escapes underneath the top row of his pearly teeth. He just looks so fucked out already, you can’t imagine how much he was holding back earlier.

You pull down enough of his pants for his dick to spring up right in front of you, not expecting the lack of underwear. Your small gasp cause him to chuckle, pushing the back of your head forward toward his hard cock. “Surprised?”

“You weren’t wearing underwear the entire night?” You question him as your hands cup his balls. A sharp intake of breath is his only response before he can compose himself. 

Through gritted teeth, Jaehyun stutters, “Like you were?” He throws his head back when your warm tongue flicks against his throbbing red tip. Every vein in his arm and neck pops on display as he grabs a hold of your hair.

“You wouldn’t know.” You snicker, running your tongue up and down his shaft. Jaehyun looks back down at your piercing eyes and his dick right above your cheek.

A smirk grows devilishly, “I’m about to find out.” Pushing your shoulder back gently, your back lands comfortably on the mattress. Your heart is racing as Jaehyun gets down on his knees, situating himself in between your open legs.

“May I?” He asks, warm hands on your inner thighs as he patiently waits for your answer.

“Yes.” Jaehyun pulls your shorts down to reveal your favorite comfort cotton panties that have faded from their original color. Naturally, you grow embarrassed and quickly slap your legs closed before Jaehyun can process. 

He blinks at you questionably, quite taken aback by the abrupt motion. “Are you okay?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t completely expecting to sleep with anyone tonight. I’m not quite prepared down there.” Your gaze drops and you anxiously fist your sheets in your sweaty hands.

Jaehyun nods, understanding your implications. “I don’t care about those things. You are…” landing a quick peck on your bare knee, he rubs reassuring circles with his thumb. “.... the prettiest baby ever. And if you’d let me, buttercup, I want to make you feel good.” 

He has always been suave with his words, as if he knows the handbook to get butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Slowly, your legs open back up before him and the slightest groan rumbles from his throat.

The wet patch on your panties is hard to ignore and he’s mesmerized, to say the least. He peels down your underwear and uses his thumb to spread your lips. Leaning forward, Jaehyun lightly licks at your erect clit and your twitch in response is enough to feed into his ego. 

He dives hungrily, eating you out until your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back is arching off of the bed. He flattens his tongue against you, pushing in and out of your dripping hole in a rhythmic motion. His nose is deep in your skin, intoxicated by your arousal, and his eyes are drinking up your uncontrollable reactions.

It’s as if electricity shocks through your lower half. The pleasure that comes with every lick and sweet suckle has you panting for more. His name echoes from your tender lips while Jaehyun inserts two fingers to stretch you out. The initial ache subsides into an indescribable pleasure; it’s the feeling of being full of anything mixing with the sensitivity of tongue against clit that has you practically on the verge of release. 

Jaehyun isn’t going to give it to you that easily. The moment your moans grow bolder, your legs begin to shake, your hand putting a little more pressure on his head, he pulls away and gets up. A desperate sigh crushes your chest as the build up leads to dissatisfaction. Jaehyun wipes his chin with the back of his hand, his two fingers glistening before being shoved into your own mouth. 

“That’s my good girl, give yourself a taste.” His hot words cause you to flood a bit more, the feeling of wetness pooling at your core. However, you two toy each other with no end as he is provoked by the way your tongue sensually swirls around his digits and how your hips keep squirming closer to the edge. “How badly do you want to get fucked?”

His firm hand holds your moving hips into the bed and you’re aching to be filled with his dick. He’s so hard that it slaps against his abdomen, red tip and spewing precum. Nonetheless, his self restraint is quite strong as he notices the defeat in your expression. Enough teasing, your body wants him endlessly. 

“Jaehyun, I want you to give me all that you got.” At the end of your request, he enters you slowly with a breathy moan. The stretch is much more than his two fingers, causing you to squirm and wiggle. Inch by inch, Jaehyun fills you to your brim and pauses for you to adjust to his size. 

“Fuck, it’s been awhile since we’ve slept together. I almost forgot how tight you are.” How could this man possibly smile with so much innocence while saying such foul things? The next action causes you to go a bit dizzy as he spits down at your clit and rubs it lovingly with his thumb. You practically see stars on your mundane ceiling. 

He starts moving his hips, deep long thrusts pulling out to only sharply fill you up again. Jaehyun is relentless as every thrust forward has you moving more and more up the bed. Your legs are pressed against your chest, folding you over to hit your sweet spot. When his tip grazes upon the greatest feeling ever, your grip on the sheets grows tighter and he’s smirking at how your mouth hangs open in pure ecstasy and shock.

“You’re so good at taking my cock.” He pants, moving faster than before. “My baby hasn’t been fucked properly in a while, has she?”

You’re at a loss for words at every drag and push. Regardless of you wanting to speak, no words seem to make its way out. Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you, dark grin and a menacing taunt in his low voice. A chuckle begins his sentence, “I know… it’s hard to talk when you feel so good right, buttercup? I can feel you getting more excited down there.”

Placing your legs around his waist, he leans down over you. His sneaky hand travels up your torso, giving your boobs a light squeeze through your shirt. Then, he wraps his hand around your neck gently and carefully, only applying enough pressure to drive you wild. 

He breaks his rhythm, reverting back to the previous slow pace. Something about the way you feel around him, hot and tight, needy and wet. Jaehyun just loves how your body reacts.

The feeling of soreness occupies your lower half and you’re more than certain it’s going to be rough tomorrow morning. Every thrust is agonizing, yet powerful enough to be felt in your guts. Jaehyun never fails to leave an impression.

Through your moans, you manage to stutter out his name. “Please, harder.” Jaehyun picks you up, hands supporting your butt and pressing your back against your door. Placing your legs down, you’re standing up right facing him with a confused expression at the change of location.

For a brief moment, his lustful glare is warm and friendly. It’s the same look that greets you in the car when he drives you two to campus. It’s the one he often looks at you with across the dinner table, usually accompanied with his robust laughter. Jaehyun looks at you as if he’s only ever seen you.

However, his next words are far from romantic and his hand finds its way to your throat, pinning you up against the cold door. “I want them to hear how good I fuck you.” Them. The rest of your housemates. Knowing that the house is far from soundproof, Jaehyun wants everyone to know how enthusiastic he makes you feel. 

“But--” As you begin to protest, he drives his hips up and nestles into you. His free hand grips your waist steadily as he barely pulls out, fucking you deeper until you feel him at the pit of your stomach. There is no ability to hold back your pleasure, moans just naturally fill the room and bounce off every wall.

“Cum for me, I know you’re close.” Jaehyun has no intentions to stop, the feeling of both releases being at the tip of your tongues. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me.”

The small bubble inside of you is ready to burst. Jaehyun sucks on his fingers to coat them with saliva and reaches down to stroke at your clit. Like a switch, your internal light bulb explodes and every spark of electricity fuels your every vein. 

Your orgasm electrifies you, causing every limb to shake uncontrollably and sporadically. Jaehyun keeps thrusting up, helping you ride out the intensity of your high. 

“There you go, baby.” A small kiss on your shoulder, he pulls out and the emptiness is felt immediately. Getting on your knees, you take his cock in your mouth to help him finish. He rests his fists on the door, hovering over you as his abs flex beautifully under the fluorescent light. Hollowing out your cheeks, your throat invites him deeper and this causes him to mindlessly thrust into your mouth. 

Jaehyun sounds breathy above you, whining about how close he is to cumming. Silence in the room has been replaced with his heavy pants and soft groans, the sound of suckling and slick saliva droning out anything else.

“Fuck, y/n.” He says, as he holds your cheek in his palm and maintains eye contact with you through his brown locks. The view of his dick being swallowed up in your mouth is more than enough to drive him to his edge, strings of cum coating the back of your throat from his release. The saltiness immediately hits your palette.

Jaehyun tosses his head back until the satisfaction dissipates. Slowly pulling himself out, he moves quickly to find you a tissue. For a moment, neither one of you speak as he silently dresses himself and you wipe the remaining spit off of your lips.

He helps you up from the floor, lightly dusting off your bare knees for you. And he says something to break the slightly awkward atmosphere, “are you kicking me out like you do with the rest of your hookups?” Jaehyun laughs, wide smile and dimples deep in his soft cheeks. The glow in his skin radiates in the dimness, he’s a sight that’s too difficult to look away from.

“Did you want to stay?” Tossing on a pair of fresh underwear and pajama shorts, you have a vague memory of Jaehyun holding you after your first fuck together. 

Though Jaehyun is your friend before anything else, he responds like every other hookup unsure about the next steps. He shrugs, turning around and tapping his back for you to hop on. “I’ll take you to the bathroom to wash up.” 

Jumping on his back and wrapping your arms around his neck, he carries you down the hall to the shared bathroom. “You didn’t exactly answer my question.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, knowing how embarrassed you are going to be the next morning when facing the rest of your housemates.

“I know you’re just going to come into my room anyways, right?” He sets you down and the door to the bathroom swings open to reveal an equally surprised Haechan. 

“Shit, you two scared me.” The dramatic boy rests a hand on his chest to calm his startled heart. “You might want to air out the bathroom before doing anything in there.” Jaehyun and Haechan share a laugh as you groan, irritated by the putrid fumes that cursed the poorly ventilated bathroom.

“You’re so gross.” You say, punching Haechan jokingly on the arm.

“Says you.” Haechan pauses to poke at Jaehyun’s bare chest, “and you. We are never playing Truth or Dare ever again.” 

“Don’t hate the players, hate the game bro.” Jaehyun snickers.

Haechan pays no more attention to the two of you, back turned and hurrying into his dark room. “I do hate the game now!” He yells in a whisper, shutting his door to end the conversation. You sigh out of relief that Haechan didn’t press for more details or jokes.

Housemates, you never know what adventures you’d run into with them. Nonetheless, you don’t mind and getting to see a shirtless Jaehyun parade around the house is always a treat.

[dindjarindiaries]

Broken Wings - Chapter 2

summary: Hunter tries to solve the mystery of his squad’s newest ally as he also navigates their new normal with Cid, leading to a deal that’s made between him and you.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: strangers to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, loss of limb, trauma, eventual/mild smut, eventual pregnancy, canon character death, canon compliant

note: this story will follow tbb canon events, but quotes and other details will not always be 100% accurate to maintain originality

word count: 4.421k

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chapter 2 ⟹

Your laugh drew Hunter’s attention across Cid’s to where you were sitting at the high-top with Omega. He should have been focusing on Cid’s quiet threat to expose him and his squad and the fact that she was now hanging it over their heads in exchange for work, but he found that you were a much better thought to muse upon. Your head hung back for a moment as you laughed, your closed eyes reopening as they sparkled upon Omega.

She really needed someone like that in this squad, someone like you—a person who could understand her in a way Hunter and the boys simply couldn’t. But Omega wasn’t the only one who was quickly attaching herself to you.

“Hunter.” Echo’s hushed voice was the only thing that could tear Hunter’s gaze away from you and Omega. He snapped his head towards Echo, whose brow was furrowed as he gestured with his eyes to you. “Do you really think we can trust her?”

Hunter’s jaw tightened. He should have been asking himself the same thing that Echo was now, but instead, the words came as a surprise to him. “What do you mean?”

Echo let out an incredulous huff. “The first thing she did was threaten us, and we know she’s on the run from someone.” Echo crossed his arms and frowned in your direction. “And she doesn’t seem to like clones, either.”

“She’s not the only one on the run.” Hunter raised his brow. “I wouldn’t be keen on hearing other clones right now, either. After what the Empire’s done to the regs, can you blame her?”

Echo blinked a few times in surprise. He then gave Hunter a once-over through narrowed eyes. “You don’t know her, Hunter. None of us do.” Echo shook his head aimlessly. “You’re not usually this quick to trust.”

Hunter shrugged. “What I know is that she chose to help me fight when she had the choice to run.” He lowered his voice, as if you would somehow hear him. “Even with a leg that’s in really rough shape.”

Echo’s head rocked back and forth before he nodded. “That’s true.” He exhaled and relaxed his arms. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t trust her. It’s just… we’re in a delicate position right now.”

Hunter set a gloved hand on Echo’s shoulder. “I understand, and it’s nice to have someone to keep me in check.” Echo let the corners of his mouth rise in a small smile at that. “But she seems to be in a hurry, anyway, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I would not be so certain.” Tech entered the conversation with his nose in his datapad. He looked up and spared a hand to adjust his goggles as he glanced at Hunter. “Birdie’s injury is not simple in the slightest. Should she continue on her own, especially without proper medical attention, it is very likely that she will have to lose her leg—or worse.”

Hunter and Echo exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Hunter’s chest squeezed tight when he heard you and Omega laughing behind him once again. “How can it be fixed, then?” Hunter looked at Tech, his expression hardened in resolve.

“Well,” Tech started tapping around his datapad, “I have already drafted a schematic for a device I can craft that will offer her the necessary treatments in small yet effective doses. That, mixed with targeted physical recovery on the leg, should expedite the healing process.” Tech’s stare met Hunter’s again. “Though it will take some time, and some additional materials, for me to craft such a device.”

“That’s a lot to offer to someone we just met.” Echo’s tone was coated in caution. Hunter couldn’t, and wouldn’t, blame him for that. “Especially when our credits and supplies are already low as it is.”

Hunter glanced over his shoulder. You were smiling and talking to Omega about something that had the young girl’s face absolutely glowing. His chest warmed as he turned back to Tech and Echo. “Let me talk to her about it, see what she thinks. She may not even want to stick around as it is.”

Hunter stepped away before he could be convinced otherwise. Wrecker took his place, and Hunter just barely caught his exasperated “What did I miss this time?” before he focused his senses on you and Omega. Your gaze caught his as he came closer, and he was bewildered by the strange nervousness it brought him. But it wasn’t a feeling he wanted to ignore or fight away.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Hunter’s voice remained warm as he set a hand on Omega’s shoulder and smiled at her. Her bright gaze flickered over to him, and she was quick to return his smile. Hunter turned back to you and nodded. “Can I speak with you in private, Birdie?”

You offered him a small smile. “Yeah, of course.” You looked down, your lips pulling tight as you focused on the wrap. Hunter offered you a hand for support, and your smile widened as you accepted it.

He couldn’t help hearing the quickening of your heartbeat as you did so, or maybe that was his own.

You slid off the stool and used Hunter for balance before nodding at him in reassurance. Hunter let you go and led you over to a corner of the room, taking a quiet yet deep breath as he processed Tech’s words through a gentler lens. He faced you again and sat across from you, inviting you to do the same. He refused to make you stand with such a bad injury.

“I talked to Tech about your injury.” Hunter cut right to the chase.

You hummed. “Sounds like you took one for the team.” Hunter couldn’t muster up an amused response to your playful words. Your shoulders straightened in newfound severity. “What did he say about it?”

Hunter fought a grimace. “It’s… not good.”

He looked down and watched his arm settle upon the small tabletop before he glanced up at you again. Your brow was knit, but you showed no other signs of dismay.

“He’s come up with a way to quicken the healing process, but it requires both time and credits, and I know you’re itching to get out of here.” He curled the hand on the table into a fist. “If you want to stay for a little while and get that treatment, we can work something out. But if you don’t, at least make sure you get proper medical attention while you’re out there.”

You blinked at him, your lips slightly parted in awe. It took you a few more moments to actually speak. “What are the odds that Tech’s wrong?”

Hunter huffed, cutting his gaze towards his brother. “Extremely low. He’s rarely, if ever, been wrong.” Hunter loosened his fist and lifted his other arm onto the table, folding his gloved hands together as he went on. “You’ve probably noticed, but we’re all enhanced clones. Research like this is literally what Tech was made for.”

You shrugged, somehow managing to smile with amusement again even after receiving such bad news. “I hadn’t noticed, actually, so thanks for filling me in.” Your expression straightened in severity again as you held your upper arms. “It’s nice of you to offer all of this.” You shook your head and looked off to the side. “I’m just not in a position to be racking up any debts, and I really can’t stay in one place for too long. I’m already overstaying my welcome as it is.”

“You wouldn’t owe us any debts.” Hunter nodded at you. “We can make a deal.” He gestured with his head to Cid’s office. “Cid wants us to work for her regularly. I’m still considering her offer, but if you can manage to help us with some of the jobs for a while, then we can offset the costs of your treatment. Plus…” 

Hunter circled his jaw and looked down for a moment, considering his words.

“I’m not trying to keep my squad in one place for too long, either. You’re not the only one who has someone gunning for them.” Hunter gave you a hint about their own dilemma, but not Omega’s. Risking his safety was a lot different than risking hers.

Your stare met his again, and Hunter was quick to note the pure surprise he saw within its depths. Your heartbeat had quickened again, and you had taken a tighter grasp on your arms, but all you could do was ask one single question. “Why are you so willing to help me?”

Hunter let out a light breath, softening his expression as he gave you another nod. “Because you helped me first.”

Your gaze flickered between his eyes as you offered him a warm smile. Hunter’s gaze shifted to Omega, who had since struck up a conversation with Wrecker at the high-top.

“And it seems like Omega really likes you. She probably would’ve gotten us to help you, anyway.” Hunter let out a fond chuckle. “She’s very convincing.”

You laughed, a soft sound that instantly drew Hunter’s gaze back to you. There was a sparkle in your eyes that was new, brightening up the small space that sat between the two of you. “Yeah, I’ve gathered that.” You exhaled a gentle breath and let the amusement fade from your expression. “Thank you, Sergeant. Truly.”

Hunter nodded, the corner of his mouth pulling up before he could stop it. “You can just call me Hunter. We don’t really do the whole formalities thing.”

You smiled again and returned his nod. “Hunter it is, then.” You leaned forward and rested your crossed arms upon the table. “It’s good to know there are people like you and your squad in this galaxy. I’ve been losing faith in that for years.”

You stood, and Hunter did the same. He assessed your balance, but you were quick to steady yourself on your good leg. You stretched out a hand towards him and nodded.

“We have a deal.”

Hunter accepted your hand and nodded once more. The motion of shaking your hand was lost in the feeling of your simple touch, which could only be described as electric. Hunter wondered if his senses were accidentally working overtime, but his lack of a migraine seemed to suggest otherwise. The sensation disappeared the moment you both pulled away, and Hunter forced himself not to dwell on it.

“I’ll round up the squad and let them know.” Hunter walked forward and rolled his shoulders, focusing himself on the task at hand instead of the sudden, dizzying array of thoughts that were popping into his mind all at once. He raised his voice for his squad to hear. “All right, listen up.”

Echo and Tech turned to look at Hunter, as did Omega and Wrecker at the high top. You were just beside Hunter, a strong presence he didn’t even have to use his enhanced senses to pick up on. Echo and Tech walked closer as Hunter continued.

“We’re not in a position to reject any opportunities to make credits right now, and Cid’s offered to give us more work.” Hunter gestured with his head to you. “Birdie’s in a similar position. We could use an extra hand with these jobs,” Hunter’s voice lowered as he subtly acknowledged Crosshair’s absence, “and in exchange for her help, we’ll be helping Birdie treat her leg. Once it’s healed, she’ll head off on her own again.”

Hunter glanced over at you. You nodded at the group, your eyes kind but your face set in determination. No one would be arguing this decision and winning, not when both you and Hunter were clearly set on it.

“Birdie’s staying?” Omega lit up, her shoulders lifting before she hopped down from her stool. “This is gonna be so fun!” She clapped her hands together and beamed in your direction.

Hunter’s own lips spread in a small smile. It was the happiest he had seen Omega ever since she saw her room on the Marauder for the first time.

That thought seemed fresh in Omega’s mind, too. “You can stay with me in my room on the Marauder, if you want.” Omega was gushing as she walked up to you. “There’s plenty of room, and…” she lowered her voice to a whisper clearly meant just for you, but was also picked up by Hunter’s senses, “you won’t have to hear Wrecker’s snoring.”

All Hunter could catch was your smile before someone grabbed his shoulder. He looked up and realized Echo had approached him again, his lips pulled tight as he urged Hunter a few steps away from you and Omega. “Hunter…”

“I know.” Hunter set his hands on his hips and let out a heavy exhale.

Echo didn’t need to say it for him to know; even Hunter himself was conflicted between whatever strange, comforting feeling you brought him and the survival instincts he had learned both as a soldier and in these past few weeks on the run.

“But we can’t just send her out there with no ship and no credits knowing something bad could happen to her.” Hunter lifted an eyebrow at Echo. “That’s not what we do.”

Echo’s gaze fell. “I agree. This is the right thing to do.” His jaw hardened as he looked at Hunter again. “But we barely have enough credits to supply ourselves as it is.”

“Yeah.” Hunter crossed his arms and lifted one hand to his chin, his gaze scanning the floor as he thought everything through. “I can try to negotiate a better rate with Cid. If she’s got an extra person working for her, she should be compensating for that, anyway.”

“In theory.” Echo huffed and gave Cid’s office an unimpressed look. “I don’t take her for the fair type.”

Hunter also frowned in that same direction. “Neither do I.” He sighed again and shrugged. “It won’t be for long. Birdie said she wants to get going soon. Apparently, she can’t stay in one place for too long.”

Echo’s gaze flashed with concern as he gave you a quick glance. “Why do you think the Empire’s after her?”

Hunter shook his head. “Don’t know.” He tightened the hand on his chin into a fist when he remembered the only clue you had given him about your pursuer: he. There was someone specific in the Empire’s ranks who was after you, and it gave Hunter a sinking feeling. “I figure the less we know, the better. Keeps us all safer that way.”

“Agreed.” Echo raised an eyebrow. “Any idea when Cid’s gonna give us our next job?”

Hunter shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she put us to work again right after getting back, but… we have no idea how this all functions yet.”

“True.” Echo nodded in Omega’s direction. “I think I’ll use this time to help her with that bow.”

Hunter hummed in agreement. “Smart choice.” He stayed where he was as he watched Echo approach Omega, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder before guiding her over to where a target was already painted onto the side of some old machine. Tech and Wrecker followed, the former no doubt excited by the fact he would get to create a brand-new stats analysis from this brief training session.

Hunter’s chest warmed at the sight of his squad, his family, but once that word came to mind, the warm feeling vanished just as quickly as it had arisen. This wasn’t his complete family, and he had no idea how the hell to bring them all back together. Not after what had happened in that hangar on Kamino.

After Kaller, Hunter couldn’t escape that feeling of failure, and he was beginning to fear he never would.

“Hunter?” The sergeant was drawn from his heavy thoughts at the sound of your voice. Your brow was raised as you gestured with your thumb over your shoulder to where the rest of the squad had gathered. “Are you joining us?”

Hunter took a deep breath and nodded, resetting himself as his arms relaxed at his sides. He stepped forward with you to join the squad, though he and you hung back closer to where Wrecker was behind Echo, Omega, and Tech. Omega was trying, but she was off to a rocky start, and it was catching the interest of the two locals who seemed to frequent Cid’s parlor.

“Has Omega always been with you?” Your tone was curious, but Hunter could easily catch its lighthearted inflection.

“No.” Hunter kept his careful eye on Omega as she wrestled with the golden weapon, despite Echo and Tech’s close reach. He just couldn’t shake the protectiveness. “She’s only been with us for a little while.”

You crossed your arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve all formed a quick bond, then.”

“She’s one of us.” Hunter recalled the moment Tech informed the squad of that revelation. He couldn’t have gotten back to Kamino faster if he had tried. “Time doesn’t change that.”

Hunter could sense the warmth of your stare on him. “It’s sweet.” He returned your gaze, just barely catching the end of a once-over you had given him. The tips of Hunter’s ears began to burn. “I bet she’s thankful to have such fierce and loyal protectors in a galaxy like this.” Your eyes focused on the floor. “They’re not easy to come by.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. The clear longing in your voice proved you had seen an ugliness of the galaxy that threatened to make Hunter sick with both disgust and rage on your behalf. “She hasn’t seen much of the galaxy yet, thankfully.” Hunter returned his stare to Omega, who was cheering as she finally hit a part of the target. “She wants to explore more of it, but… I know what’s out there.”

You nodded in understanding. “That’s a delicate balance to strike. Not wanting to hold her back, but also wanting to keep her safe.”

Hunter circled his jaw. “Exactly.” He watched as Omega’s faith was invigorated from her successful attempt, and in a series of three shots, she managed to land another inside the painted rings. “At least we can teach her how to protect herself.”

You stayed silent for a few moments after that. Hunter glanced at you, catching a mixture of concern and severity in your gaze as he did so. You spoke again before he could question it, your voice lower than it had been before. “I may not be able to tell you much about myself, but I want you to know that I would never hurt her.” You looked at Hunter with an expression more serious than any other you had shown him yet. “Or any of you.” Your gaze cut away from him. “All I want is to run. That’s it.”

Hunter asked the question before he could bite it back. “From the Empire?”

You considered his words for a long moment. Eventually, you nodded. “In a way.” You cleared your throat and shook your head. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.” Your stare returned to his. “It’s for your own safety.”

Hunter nodded. “I understand.”

Your lips stretched in a small smile of gratitude before you focused on the squad again. You took a light breath and changed the subject. “So, it seems like you’re all named after your enhancements, but I’m lost on Echo’s.”

“That’s because Echo isn’t an enhanced clone.” Your brow shot up at that. “He was a regular clone that the Separatists tried to make into a weapon of sorts. Our squad helped to rescue him.”

“That makes more sense.” You paused, most likely doing the math in your head. “Your squad was originally just the three of you, then? You, Wrecker, and Tech?”

Hunter tensed, his temples throbbing for a moment as his inner turmoil caused every one of his delicate senses to fray. He shut his eyes and let out a breath he hoped was steady as he attempted to calm himself. “There were four.”

He reopened his eyes, catching your sympathetic yet curious glance. The question you no doubt longed to ask him sat between you, but it was a line neither of you were willing to cross yet. Instead, you both focused back on Omega, who was beginning to lean even heavier on Echo’s encouragement to keep herself from giving up completely.

“Hey, Birdie.” Wrecker grinned at you as he gently jostled your shoulder on the side opposite from where Hunter stood. “Tech told me you’re gonna need some physical training for your leg, and he put me in charge of it.” Wrecker clapped his hands together over his chestplate. “Are ya’ ready?”

Hunter watched as your face began to light up. “Only if you make it a real challenge.”

Wrecker chuckled and nudged your shoulder again. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

Hunter looked between the two of you, and his lips instinctively pulled up in a smile. It hadn’t been long, but you had already shed your uncertainty for a sweet kind of comfort that was bringing you closer to everyone in the squad. You were fitting right in with the squad.

Before Hunter could dwell more on that thought, Cid made her approach, her footsteps catching Hunter’s attention well before she had arrived. He cut his gaze at her, straightening his posture and tightening his jaw as she announced her presence. “Glad you’re all in one place.” Cid set her hands on her hips, clearly pleased by whatever gathering she was interrupting. “I’ve got another job for ya’.”

Hunter furrowed his brow at her. “I haven’t told you whether or not we’re working for you.” Even if they had decided to work for Cid for a time, Hunter wasn’t a fan of her assuming the answer.

“Well, let me decide for you, Bandana.” Hunter rolled his eyes at the nickname. “You are.” Cid peered around the group. “I’m assuming you all know what a tactical droid is?”

The squad stayed quiet, including you. Hunter could sense Tech shifting his weight between his feet, fighting the urge to speak.

Cid raised her brow. “They’re—.”

Hunter grunted as Tech pushed past him. “The Separatists’ strategic—.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Cid held her hands up at Tech. “This is my briefing, Goggles.” She kept a single eyebrow raised. “Relax.”

Tech’s chest rose with a breath before he ultimately deflated. Hunter set a hand on Tech’s shoulder as he adjusted his goggles.

“They’re the brains of the Separatists’ droid army—or, at least, they were.” Cid shoved Wrecker, who had been leaning against a nearby holotable. His proximity to you meant that she had knocked his momentum right into you, but Hunter was there to catch you by the elbow, just like he had on the Marauder. You looked at him with a grateful smile, one that gave him pause.

Of course, it would be in this split second moment that Hunter would let himself truly relish in your beauty in the way he had the first time he saw you in the Zygerrian camp. There was just something about being this close, about having his sensitive sense of touch on you, that made him forget where and who he was for the time being.

But the moment vanished in a mere second’s time, as Hunter let you go as soon as you gave him a nod of reassurance. Whatever Cid was going to say, he would have to listen. He didn’t get the luxury of zoning out during a briefing. He never had.

“I’ve got a tip on a fully-intact tactical droid head in a factory on Corellia,” Cid went on, pulling up a holodiagram of a tactical droid. “I need it in prime condition. You hear that? Prime.” Cid wagged a single finger in warning. “No damage.”

“Corellia?” Hunter shook his head. “That’s too close to the Core for my liking. We’re trying to lay low.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask what you like.” Cid shut off the holotable and tossed a chit towards Hunter. He recovered from his shock just in time to catch it. “I need this one done stat, so I expect to see you back here in no more than a few days.”

Her gaze settled on Omega, and she stepped forward to take the golden bow from her hands. Hunter’s hands tightened into fists, with one nearly threatening to snap the chit he still held against his palm.

“And the reason you keep missing, kid, is because of your flimsy noodle arms.” Cid lifted the bow and fired off three shots, all of which hit the target’s bullseye. She all but shoved the bow back into Omega’s arms. “Now get going!”

Cid was about to leave when her yellow eyes caught one more person. Her gaze glittered in curiosity.

“And make sure your new friend here knows all my rules.”

With that, Cid turned her back on them, stalking off towards her office once again. Everyone turned to face Hunter, and he let out a light breath before nodding. “You heard her. Let’s get going.”

Omega brightened as she secured her bow over her back and ran up to you. “Your first official mission with us, Birdie! Are you excited?”

You smiled at her. “I sure am.”

Hunter’s chest warmed in gratitude, because what he was seeing in your gaze was completely different from what you were telling Omega. There was a hesitance there, a fear you would likely never speak on, but you only projected strength and enthusiasm to the young girl. Hunter didn’t know what was causing it, but when the sudden urge to ensure your safety arose, he didn’t fight it.

Keeping you safe felt right, and in a time where the rest of the galaxy was crumbling around him, Hunter let himself give into it.

previous ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ next

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

broken wings tag list: @dindadjarin @jedipoodoo @the-vast-corner-of-the-galaxy

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

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.

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taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: V

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

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

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

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 34k 

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

///   

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

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

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

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

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that. 

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

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

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

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

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I changed my mind.” 

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

“Idiot.”

“Try again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad. 

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

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

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

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.” 

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘What if’ what?”

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

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you really not going, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry—”

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

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

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

“Get up. Now.” 

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

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

She obeys. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like it, though, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.” 

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

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

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

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

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

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

“Stop being such a baby.” She huffs, going in along his cheekbones and rolling her eyes when he grumbles. “Lean down.” 

Harry abides, ducking down so she can get a better angle, casually coasting his hands onto her hips to keep her from losing her footing to the slippery floor. Y/N leans forward onto the tips of her toes, squinting at him through the foggy air as she continues to wash off the syrup, wanting to make sure she isn’t missing a single spot. Harry watches her quietly with his sopping curls sticking to his forehead and along the nape of his neck, lips twitching fondly at how hellbent she is on getting the mess off. Her brows are creased in concentration and her tongue is peeking out of her mouth; he has to restrain the impulse to surge forward and kiss her. 

Once Y/N is satisfied with her work, she falls back onto her heels, washing any remnants away under the stream and pushing her drenched strands out of her face. “All done. Try not to do it again.” 

“I make no promises.” Harry tuts as he joins her beneath the water, bare chest a mere inch from hers as he quirks his brows coyly. “It got you naked, so I’ll probably do it again.”

“I won’t help next time.” 

“Then I’ll just rub my face against yours and get it all over you. Won’t have much of a choice, then.” 

“You’re a literal child.”

Y/N grabs the bottle of chamomile shampoo from the shelf carved into the polished stone wall of the shower, uncapping it and pouring a glob into the palm of her hand. She sets the container back down and beckons Harry forward with the forefinger of her free hand. The vampire drifts towards her once again and wraps his arms across the dip of her back, lightly swaying her from side to side as she begins working the shampoo into his roots, the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp in slow circles. The groan that betrays him is pitiful. 

Y/N pretends not to hear it, continuing to work a lather into his curls as the boy trails his fingers up and down the center of her spine, the feathery sensation causing her to shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. Harry leans down to nestle his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, laying his head along her shoulder and cradling her to his body as she combs her fingers through his locks. He can’t remember the last time he took a shower with someone just for the sake of it, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in each other’s presence. It’s nice. 

Harry begins sponging his lips across the curve of Y/N’s throat, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing back into his grasp, the pads of her digits scratching at his scalp. 

“God, that feels so good.” Harry mumbles, tone so garbled in bliss, it’s barely understandable. 

The mortal slowly coaxes him back under the direct line of the shower, thoroughly rinsing the bubbles out of his hair and making sure to carefully wash any leftover shampoo out of his lashes. She then ties her arms around his broad shoulders, gently running her nails up and down the expanse of his muscular back, feeling the tendons unknot under her guidance. Y/N cranes her head to the side and flushes her lips to Harry’s temple, the pattering of the water camouflaging the fact that the area lacks a pulse. She sighs softly in innocent pleasure, the warm air sending a delightful bristling down the young man’s neck and drawing another drunken whimper from his lungs. This all feels therapeutic, almost. Neither had realized how much they missed domesticity until now. 

The human suddenly snorts humorously, talking against Harry’s waxy skin. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to make a move yet.” 

Harry rattles his head sleepily, the ridges of his mouth tickling her jugular as he does so. His voice is distant and tender, but his words send a pang of electricity to her core. “I’ll fuck you afterwards. Just wanna enjoy this right now.” 

Y/N lets her eyes lull shut, allowing the sheets of hot water to numb her mind the same way it had his, a certain type of mellowness soaking into her bones. Her tone comes out as soothed and detached as her lover’s, all her attention funneled into how incredible his hard body feels pressed to hers in such an intimate fashion, his strong arms clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m not complaining.”

Even in his distracted state, Harry still somehow manages to wriggle in a smug quip. “Of course you’re not. I give you nothing to complain about.”

“Dickhead.”

Y/N gives his ringlets a spiteful tug, which he responds to with an airy chuckle and a cheeky smack across her ass. The girl jumps slightly with a small gasp and a handful of select curses, which only causes him to cackle even further. “You love that shit, don’t you?”

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.” 

“Mm. S’what I thought.” 

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does. 

As soon as they exit the shower, he immediately wanders into the bedroom, the only towel in his possession being the one he’s using to shake out his damp curls. Y/N dries off her body patiently as she stands in front of the clouded mirror, rubbing the linen over her softened skin. She handles her hair second, patting and scrunching the water out as she thinks on what Harry could possibly be doing that is taking him so long. She doubts he’s getting dressed, if his earlier intentions are any indication, and he seemed like he had a plan in motion when he’d walked out, so there must be a method to his prolonged absence. 

When the monster pads back into the bathroom, he is just as bare as when he’d left, the towel he’d used on his locks crumpled in his large hands. He chucks it into the linen hamper beside the jacuzzi, sauntering up behind Y/N and she has to force herself not to use the mirror to ogle below his waist. She folds her towel neatly onto the counter, reaching forward and wiping the last bit of condensation off the glass so she can get a proper view of Harry’s face. Maybe it’ll help her deduce what he’s plotting. 

The boy presses up against her backside, pushing her forward until her hips are wedged between his torso and the edge of the bathroom counter, moving all her stringy hair onto one shoulder with the back of his hand. Harry locks eyes with her through the mirror, speckling a few sloppy kisses along the back of her neck and grinning into her flesh when a shiver coils down her spine. He looks so fucking good with his damp ringlets glued along his sharp jaw, his jade eyes glossy with lascivious intentions, and his cheeks and chest still colored from the hot water, tattoos looking as alluring as ever. He nuzzles the tip of his nose across the shell of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging teasingly, the warm air of his low, dominant tone causing her flinch in anticipation. 

“Arms behind your back.” 

Y/N obeys without a hitch, bringing her hands together atop the alcove at the bottom of her spine. She feels the unmistakable sensation of cold metal looping around her wrists, tightening with soft clicks and pinching at her skin. The cuffs sift into the designated setting and Harry gives them a quick yank to check for security, tying the excess chain link around his knuckles and pulling down harshly. Y/N’s body contorts to his influence, her arms straightening out as her back arches, chest swelling forward while her hips remain perched to the tabletop, held in place by his own. She can feel the head of his cock dab against the back of her thighs, his irises darkening as he surveys her bust with a type of barely-contained desire that sends heat flooding into her abdomen. 

Harry ducks his head further down to glue more kisses along the slope of her shoulder, nipping periodically and leaving behind a neat row of love bites that he’ll admire in detail later. The words he murmurs against her skin deliver a sweltering simmer in their wake. “Do you want it rough?” 

Y/N swallows thickly, nodding her head several times and whispering a bashful, “Yes.” 

“‘Yes’ what?”

The human licks at her lips tentatively, squeaking a tad when gives the metal hoops an expectant tug, urging a reply. “Yes, sir.” 

Harry’s lashes flutter shut for a second, the corners of his lips twitching in arrogant satisfaction. “You’ve got the filthiest tongue, but you know how to make it say the sweetest things, don’t you, baby?”

“Only for you.”  

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

The vampire’s eyes open slowly, head tilting to the side to assess her with sly amusement. “You wanna know how I can tell that’s the truth?” 

Y/N’s joints are starting to ache due to the position he’s fixed her in, but she doesn’t mind the burn. It feeds into the appeal. “H-How?”

Harry leans forward, brushing his wet lips up her jaw, the tip of his cock spreading her open just a smidge. “Because every time I fuck you, you’re always so bloody tight. Means I’m the only one stretching out that snug little cunt.”

A broken whine escapes Y/N’s sore throat— courtesy of what had occurred the night prior— and she squirms in the brunette’s grip, trying to shimmy her way further down his length. She’s anxious to feel him fill her. “Deeper.” 

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow in impressed curiosity. “You want it all in one go? Don’t want me to prep you first?” 

She shakes her head stubbornly, pushing back against him and succeeding in sinking an inch or so. Harry’s entire face hardens as she clenches around the head of his prick, attempting to ride down further to sedate her desperate need. He twists his fist tighter around the chain, his other hand coming up to grip her throat, forearm pressed between her breasts as he gets a decent hold to prepare for what’s to come.  

“If it gets to be too much,” Harry dabs a gentle kiss onto her cheek; it’s to communicate the importance of the message amidst the tense atmosphere, “you know to tell me, right?” 

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

Y/N nearly passes out. Even though she’s grown accustomed to Harry’s size and girth, it somehow never fails to shock her into a state of unexpected rapture. He just fits so well inside her— hits every nook and crevice like he was meant to touch every single one. That, combined with his unrelinquishing thrusts and sinful dirty talk...It’s enough to render anyone helpless. It’s certainly enough to have her shaking and screaming against his chest, and it’s definitely more than enough to drive her towards an orgasm that she knows will blow out her legs for at least the rest of the day. 

Harry fucks into her just how she’d requested— rough and vehement. He presses her bare back to his chest by using the hold he has around her throat, her head falling backwards onto his shoulder as he pounds into her belly from behind. His other hand is braided into the chain between the cuffs, controlling how her body seizes up and gives way. She’s standing on the tips of her toes, legs spread open as much as her weak knees will support, scraggly breaths stuttering from her nose and mouth as shattered noises of ecstasy decorate the space the fading steam has left behind. Her hips are ramming forward against the rim of the counter, the marble knocking against her pubic bone to the point where she knows bruises will develop later on. She doesn’t mind it; she loves seeing the memories Harry brands onto her, whether that be in the form of hickies across her thighs, fingerprints over her waist, or his rings fanned out across the swell of her ass. She’ll take anything he’s willing to give. 

The vampire is dismantling just as quickly as she is, obvious in the fractured growls and soft grunts he’s puffing against the side of her face. His pink-polished nails dig into her jugular, fingers twitching as her heartbeat hammers against his palm, sending vibration down his whole nervous system. His cock is slicking into her easily and it’s obvious the anticipation of what he had said during their bath had gotten to her; he can feel how wet she is with every stroke. It’s dripping down her quivering thighs and smearing all over his tiger head tattoo, damp slaps resonating from where her backside hits against his tinted pelvis. 

Harry stares down hazily at where he’s spreading her open, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as tiny mewls itch along the back of his raw throat, her own sounds playing across his ears with each buck of his thighs. They float through the heavy air like a lullaby and he can confidently say he’d listen to her moans forever, if time allowed. 

“I think it’s funny,” Harry starts with a comedic edge to his strained voice, mimicking the introduction Y/N had used the day before when they’d been in the jacuzzi, “that you’re always so willing to let me use you however I want. That you literally beg me to take you this hard. It’s almost pitiful, really, that you never had anyone fuck you right before I came along.”

The girl squirms in his arms, her hands flat against his abdomen, nails carving into his flesh. Her sentences come out cracked and almost pained. “I-I wish I’d met you sooner.” 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Harry grits against the shell of her ear, smirking when she worries her lower lip beneath her top teeth, trying to keep a tab on what he knows is probably an embarrassingly loud keen. “I bet you wish you’d had me back home, huh? Spent all your time fucking around with those vanilla small-town boys, never had a real man treat you the way you wanted. Bet you didn’t even like those pricks, did you, darling?”

Y/N shakes her head vigorously in response. “They were so boring. You’re so much better.” 

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

“Poor thing.” Harry scoffs sympathetically, running his grasp upwards until his thumb and forefinger rope around her jaw. He maneuvers her head into place, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, hissing his words lowly. “Eyes up. See how pretty you look taking every last bit of that cock? And the way your tummy’s bulging? That’s how you know the sex is good— that’s how it’s supposed to look.”

Y/N gazes upon the image her friend is referring, her exhales hiccuping in her chest at the way an obvious bump rises in her belly every time he thrusts inside. Not only that, but Harry just looks incredible, as well, with his heavily inked arm flushed between her breasts, the art flexing to life as he yanks her down against his lap by her neck. She can see the sweat beading his hairline, his freshly-washed ringlets jumping to his movements as he groans into her scalp. 

Y/N’s lips part in a silent moan and the immortal takes this chance to shove his first two fingers into her mouth, weighing them against her tongue and instructing her with a clear, deep accent. “Suck.”

She does so obediently, her cheeks hollowing as she gasps around the digits, swiveling to match his tempo. Between her glistening body, the needy expression painted across her appearance as she conforms to his every demand, and the way her walls are clinging to him like a vice as she eagerly licks and suckles at him…

Harry loses it. 

“Fucking hell.” The monster unclamps the hand he has around her jugular and Y/N drops back down onto her heels, ankles quaking now that she has to carry her own weight. His palm finds refuge along the back of her skull instead, proceeding to shove her head down towards the counter, pulling at the cuffs to finagle her into a folded position. “Bend over.”

Y/N does as told, a small, “mm!” plucking at her vocal chords as Harry pushes her cheek down against the cold marble situated between his two sinks. He pins her head to the surface and she casts her attention upwards to try and get a peek of him through the glass. His eyes look unnaturally dark, though she can’t quite place the shade given her limited view. 

The vampire makes sure the chain link is secured around his knuckles, proceeding to use the toy to bounce Y/N against his cock. He yanks her towards his torso until she thunks wetly against his base, using his hips to push her forward harshly and pulling out until his tip is barely grazing her entrance. He repeats this action over and over, weak whimpers spilling shamelessly from his plump ruby lips as he keeps her face fastened down, maintaining some form of consistent stability. Every fiber of his being sparks with bliss as he watches her jerk against the counter, back caving forward and causing her naked chest to bulge against the stone panel. One of these days, she’s going to drive him mental. He swears it. 

“There’s a good girl, minx.” Harry’s head tips backwards, bobbing back and forth as his sticky chest heaves with the exertion of keeping him tethered to reality. “Take it just like that, yeah? God, you should see the way you’re so snug around me. Love that cock, don’t you? Say it. Tell me you love it.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against the dip of her spine, nails digging into her palms. “I love your cock, Harry. I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking— oh!” He prods over her g-spot and she shudders below him. “Shit, keep going! Right there, right there, right there— oh my God!”

“Right here? Is that what’s gonna make my dirty little whore cum?” Harry grinds his teeth, ignoring the rouge curls falling into his furrowed brows, jabbing the spongy area with continuous plunges. “More? Look at how you’re shaking, baby. And you’re just so fucking wet. Absolutely soaked and... and fuck, that’s my sweet girl.” 

The boy keeps delivering every plea she chokes out, his climax beginning to froth at the trench of his stomach and along the underside of his balls. A familiar glow starts to pour into his dormant veins. “I’m almost there, dove. Gonna fill you up until it runs down your thighs.”

“Y-You’re so good, I can’t fucking— I’m gonna—”

“Beg for it. Beg for Daddy, princess.” 

Y/N does so with no remorse, confessing to him how much she wants his load, telling him that she needs to feel him spill inside her all warm and thick and heavy. A dark, open-mouthed smirk adorns Harry’s features as he fucks a throbbing ache between her thighs, feeling his mind completely slip. He may be damned with eternal life, but in this instant, the immortal feels like he touches heaven. 

Then, that moment of pure euphoria is stripped away by the sound of his front door clicking open. 

Harry’s eyes snap awake, all his motions coming to an abrupt halt. He shushes a protesting Y/N quietly, tuning his heightened hearing to make sure he hadn’t imagined the sound. 

But no, it’s very much real. It’s followed by the noise of the lock clanking back into its hole, and then three pairs of footsteps begin echoing down the hallway that leads to his living room. He recognizes every single one and unhinged rage suddenly flares around his pupils, potent and bright red. If Y/N wasn’t in such a compromisable position, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that slip-up. 

“Christ, you’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

Harry carefully withdraws himself from between the mortal’s legs, wincing a bit at the loss of suction and feeling a spoonful of guilt stem from the disappointed whine Y/N sobs. His swollen, leaking cock sways lightly as he takes a cautious step back, testing to see if he’s capable of moving without face-planting the ground. His mind is misty and he’s obviously drenched in the pungent scent of sex, but other than that, he reckons he can manage just fine. Especially with the newfound anger coursing through his nerves— a direct result of the unexpected trio of intruders chatting nonchalantly on the floor below. 

Harry stumbles towards the exit of the bathroom, knees wobbly and head spinning, an unsatisfied gnawing toiling in his groin. He needs to get that taken care of as soon as possible, but he can’t until he gets rid of the three morons milling around his foyer. He snatches his cherry blossom silk robe from the hook on the wall, wrapping it around himself tightly and making sure to cover all his assets to prevent any mishaps. 

He glances up at a pouting Y/N as he ties off the ribbon around his waist, walking back and helping her onto her unstable feet, cooing apologetically. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I heard some visitors come in downstairs ‘cause, apparently, they don’t understand the concept of privacy. This is the last time I’m trusting anyone with an extra key.”  

The girl leans back against one of the sinks, blinking up at him emptily as he thumbs over her chin in comfort. Her voice is hardly audible, raw with exhaustion. “How...How did you know they were here? I didn’t hear them come in...” 

Harry pauses for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly and pecking her on the nose to insert a distraction. He throws some humor into the mix as well, wanting to steer the conversation to safe grounds, opting for using a bit of compulsion to get the job done. His pupils dilate as his sentences swim around her head in a soothing voice, heavy with persuasion. “I heard the door slam shut. I guess you were a little too busy screaming my name to notice.” 

Y/N’s pupils expand to match his, her face going slack as the supernatural magic sews into her thoughts and molds her perspective to his story. Her lashes flutter in mild confusion, brows cinching as her brain recalibrates itself. The creases in her forehead dissolve as all of her doubt melts away, the corners of her plump lips quirking at his snarky remark. “I guess so.” 

“Can’t blame you, though.” Harry taps at her bottom lip cheekily, shrugging his brows. “I was giving it to you pretty good.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” Y/N rolls her foggy eyes, but she can’t hide the way her heartbeat spikes— not from him. Then, her face suddenly wracks with embarrassment, eyes shattering with humiliated realization. “Oh my God, that means they probably heard everything…”

Oh, they definitely heard everything, Harry thinks. They’ve got nothing better to do other than pry. 

He nurses her downcast face with his cold palm, one shoulder rising and falling casually to show it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry about it, hm? I’m gonna go kick them out, anyways, so you won’t have to deal with it.”

The pet name and his kind gesture eases her woes a bit, but not much. “Still. I’m never showing my face in public ever again.”

Now it’s the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes at her theatrics. “Just stay here, yeah? It’ll only take a second, and then…” Her friend gives her naked body a suggestive once-over, licking at the corner of his mouth. “Then we can finish what we started.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle, jokingly chastising him for his wandering gaze as she fiddles with her fingers within the handcuffs. “Just go.”  

The moment Harry’s bare feet step off the last rung of his staircase, he begins spewing venom at the three imbeciles standing around at the mouth of his entrance corridor. 

“Are you fucking dense?” He stomps up towards the group of young men with balled fists and bristling irises, all his spite trained on Mitch. “I told you I was busy! That suggests that you should’ve stayed away for the weekend! It meant, ‘leave me alone,’ not ‘come to my flat unannounced.’”

“Yeah, we know you’re busy.” Niall boasts with a loud scoff, shaking his head as an afterthought. “I think the whole building knows, at this point.”

The Irish bloke grabs Xander, who catches onto what the man is doing and happily takes a part in the action. He bends over while Niall grasps onto his shoulders and begins to mimic thrusting, arching his back forward and shaking his ass. He sucks one of his fingers into his mouth, moaning profusely to add authenticity to their vulgar reenactment. “Oh, Harry! Right there, don’t stop!”

Niall drops his voice a few octaves for symbolism, putting on a shitty British accent as he bucks against Xander’s backside. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Like it right there? Tell me how much you love that cock.” 

Harry’s jaw clenches as he tries to ignore them, refusing to give rise to their taunting. The two boys break into a puddle of giggles at his expense, nudging each other triumphantly and eventually dying down. Harry isn’t normally the type of person to daydream about violence— why would anyone partake in something so barbaric when dismantling an enemy psychologically is so much better?— but he finds himself fantasizing about tearing Niall and Xander’s hands off and using them as ping-pong paddles. 

Mitch shifts his body towards his best friend, arms crossed loosely with an expression of sheer amusement painted across his bearded face, seeming undisturbed by Harry’s rampage and deadly grimace. “It’s nice to see you, too, H.” 

The younger vampire takes a measured inhale, swallowing down the urge to rip the older man’s mustache clean off. He directs his next sentence at all of them, glaring intently as his voice comes out flat and harsh. “Get out.”

Niall raises his palms in peaceful surrender, proceeding to use an index finger to signal hastily between his impromptu porno co-star and himself. “Don’t look at us, this was Mitch's idea. We just came along.” 

“None of you should have come at all.” Harry spits, tightening his lean arms over his chest, biceps rippling under the thin silk of his elegant robe. “What do you want?” 

A soft giggle suddenly bursts from Xander and he momentarily slaps his hand over his mouth to muddle it, but his eyes continue to dance with mirth. “Sorry, I just can’t take you seriously in that.” He juts his chin towards Harry’s pajamas. “I think my grandmother had one just like it.” 

“Yeah, I stole this from her place right after I pissed on her grave.” The brunette snaps with an exaggerated smile, feeling a flare of evil satisfaction at the way Xander’s grin immediately plops. Niall snorts loudly and tries to cover it up, but it fails and he is left having to brace the brunt of the other boy’s contempt. 

Harry turns back to face Mitch while the other two immortals bicker, now aware that he is the mastermind behind this entire coup. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you have left for Vegas already?”

“Yeah, we should have.” He answers pointedly with a soft, dejected sigh. Harry has to keep himself from casting his gaze away in guilt. 

The annual trip had been a tradition he and Mitch had started in the nineties, just them two. As their group had expanded, so had the attendant list, and now it was something special their whole clique did together to put some extra excitement— something stable to look forward to— into the endless years they had ahead. No one had missed out on the trip in the last thirty years, especially not willingly, and no one ever thought Harry— the co-founder of the event— would be the one to break that streak. He can tell Mitch is upset. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles, squeezing at the inside of his elbows and putting as much genuine emotion into his demeanor as possible. “It just slipped my mind and I made another commitment that I can’t bail on. But it won’t happen again, I promise. Betsy swear.” 

Mitch’s downturned lips jolt slightly at the mention of his old bayonet. He had kept the weapon after the American Revolution had ended, as a tribute to the old life he was leaving behind after he transitioned, naming it fondly after his mother. With all of that history taken into appeal, it’s no wonder the item means a lot to him. That is exactly why the two best friends had developed a dynamic around it. 

They would tie an oath to the object in order to ensure it would be kept, and if the promise was broken, the other would get to stab the traitor with it. The game had been something Mitch and Harry had conjured up decades ago while under the influence of some very strong psychedelics, but it had stuck, for some reason. It’s simply a playful inside joke, and though it’s a tad gruesome, it’s hardly an issue considering they both self-heal quickly. Any damage inflicted is equivalent to that of a rubber band snapping against their skin, so in the end, no harm, no foul. At its core, it’s just a vampire’s version of a pinky swear, hence the term, “Betsy swear.” Harry had thought about getting it patented, at one point. 

The jade-eyed boy feels a weight lift off his shoulders as Mitch indulges one of his signature quiet chuckles. “Alright, fine. Betsy swear, then. The reason we’re here is ‘cause I wanted to check up on you before we left, and ‘cause I wanted to make sure you switched the reservation. You never got back to me about it.” 

“Oh, my bad. I got it done, though. Everything should check out.” Harry reassures, waving away his visitor’s doubt. He’d tended to the job last night after Y/N fell asleep and he meant to send a confirmation text, but forgot when the mortal had begun to stir randomly. He’d had to put away his phone and pretend to be unconscious for a few minutes until her agitation melted away, resulting in the deed going undone, courtesy of the mild panic that had dulled his memory. “Why didn’t you just text me about it?” 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, pursing his lips to fight off an entertained grin. “Oh, I did. Multiple times, actually. But I reckon you were too busy with the treadmill to notice.” 

The older creature’s reference works as intended, an irritating flush crawling up Harry’s neck and pouring into his ears, garnering a fit of cackles on his companion’s behalf.

“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles as he shoves Mitch’s shoulder, but the insult is hard to take seriously when he’s wrestling a smirk of his own. 

“Is it the girl from the club?” The lanky man inquires curiously, tilting his head to the side with an impressed air. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? That’s a record, I think. You’ve never kept one around that long.” 

“What can I say, the sex is good.” Harry shrugs easily, tucking a couple of rebellious curls away from his eyes, which gleam crimson red as a supporting factor to his next comment. “And the blood is even better.”

Mitch rolls his irises playfully. “Alright, Casanova, pipe down.” He glances over his friend’s rumpled appearance, taking in the slightly damp skin, wild hair, and the plethora of faded hickies peeking through the boy’s robe, littering his chest and collarbones. “She’s got you on a tight leash, I see.” 

“It’s only fair, considering she spends most of that time in my handcuffs. Quid pro quo and all that.” Harry quips back, bursting into laughter when Mitch gags dramatically. 

“You know you could’ve just brought her along, right?” Mitch suggests, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We each have our own rooms, remember? No one would get in the way of your little late night jogs. Though I can’t say the same for the other hotel guests. She’s not necessarily subtle.” 

Harry presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek coyly. “It’s not my fault I’m good in bed. It’s a curse, really. Could never get away with dressing room sex.”

He contemplates Mitch's offer for a second. He thinks it could be a fun time, but then he recalls that the trip to Vegas is a week-long party, which Y/N can’t indulge because she works a regular nine-to-five. Plus, a human in a car full of vampires sounds like the introduction to an ominous joke. Something is bound to slip, especially because no one in the crew is used to having humans around outside of meal hours. He doesn’t want the responsibility of constantly having to wipe her brain. 

Aside from that, most of the vampires that mill around Vegas aren’t as cultured as Harry’s friends. They lack restraint, a conscience, and fear of consequences, given that the city’s crazy reputation provides the perfect cover for all those dangerous behaviors. That makes them deadly predators to someone as trusting and unsuspecting as Y/N, and having to continuously protect her would be too much of a hassle. It’s supposed to be a vacation; the last thing he needs is for it to turn into an episode of Shark Week. It’s best to stay put.

Harry shakes his head after a minute, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m good. Bringing along a human isn’t worth all the trouble she might cause. Thank you, though.” 

Mitch bobs his head in understanding, well aware of the problems Harry is alluding to. “You have a point.” He pauses for a second in thought, shaking his head at the idea of having to deal with the insanity that surrounds their Vegas siblings. “I guess I’ll just see you next week, then, yeah? Better get going.”

The younger vampire mirrors his nod, opening his arms for a hug, which Mitch gladly takes. He’s not one for affection, that much is clear, but he makes certain exceptions here and there, and of course his friends file under that category. And every now and then, Y/N does too. 

“See you next week.” He pulls away from the embrace with a hard pat to Mitch’s shoulder, smiling softly. “Send tons of pictures, okay? And videos of Niall getting shitfaced. I need new blackmail content.” 

“Will do.” Mitch squeezes his best friend’s shoulders tightly, beaming at him in return. He then cranes towards his two fellow guests, whistling to gain their attention from the passionate conversation they seem to be having about Harry’s robe. “Time to head out, Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Who’s who?” Niall questions childishly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I think I should be Clyde. Xander has Bonnie vibes.” 

“No I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do.” The Irish boy reasons, cocking his head knowingly. “You seem like the type who would cheat on a murderer with another criminal from the same jail. You’ve got a knack for drama, like most women.” 

Xander crosses his arms stubbornly. “No, I don’t.”

“You do, actually.” Harry butts in, eyes twinkling slyly as the group starts to wander towards the exit. He decides to get revenge for the teasing from earlier. “You moan just like one, too.”

Xander blushes bright red, diving into the shadow of the corridor to avoid any more ridicule. “I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” 

The other vampires laugh as they follow behind Harry’s ex-fling, waving their final goodbyes. As soon as the front door echoes shut, the immortal turns on his heel and heads back towards the glass stairs, beginning to undo the silk ribbon knotted around his hips. 

He’s got his own partner in crime to attend to. 

///

That night, Y/N and Harry end up bidding each other farewell in the corridor of his condo. 

That seems to be a common theme in their relationship, he’s come to find. It’s usually the entrance to her own apartment instead of his, but the motif is there, nonetheless: They always end up meeting in a hallway, every single time. 

“Thanks for having me over.” Y/N murmurs in her signature gentle dialect, smiling delicately as she skids the toe of her sneaker against the ground of the carpet outside his door, trying to keep the butterflies in her tummy tame. It was an incredible two days— maybe the best weekend she’s ever had, if she’s being honest. “I had a lot of fun.” 

Harry leans his bare shoulder against his threshold, clad in nothing but a pair of royal blue boxers and black ankle socks, freely showing off the collection of love bites and scratches Y/N had so kindly finished gifting him a few hours ago. She’d gone wild the second he’d unlocked the metal cuffs and he’s more than happy with the results.

The stains speckle his broad chest and the expanse of his taut neck, dark and obvious beneath the complex’s buttery lighting. Bruises trace down his stomach and across his ribs, a neat row of four hickies centered vertically between his two fern inkings. They disappear suggestively under the elastic band of his underwear and she can feel flashes of heat layer across her cheeks, her mind recalling all the filthy sounds he’d made when she had created them.

The human peels away from the artwork that is Harry’s marked torso, glancing around nervously at the fact that some stranger might see the fruit of their actions. The vampire’s lips twitch at her concern; it baffles him how she can be such a devil in between the sheets, but such a shy, reserved angel in every other aspect. It’s cute. 

Harry reaches forward and takes her warm fingers into his larger hand, thumbing over her knuckles appreciatively as his irises glitter smugly amidst his lashes, a smirk stringing his pillowy mouth. “We always have a lot of fun.” 

Y/N squeezes his palm playfully, gnawing into her cheek and humming in agreement. “That, we do.”

A moment of comfortable silence suspends the air between them, the only sound being the faint footsteps of people on the levels above and below, alongside the light skidding of the elevator as it delivers patrons to their destinations. Harry is the first to speak up again. 

“What was your favorite part?” 

Y/N blinks up at him blankly, slightly startled at the random question, but moreso at being put on the spot. 

“Oh, uh…” She laughs shakily, struggling to recall everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There had been so much bare skin and desperate tongues involved, she can hardly pick through her memories without her ears prickling. “I think...I think the shower was my favorite. It was nice and relaxing. Helped me unwind.” 

Harry nods in recognition, turning through the pages in his mind and skimming through the instance she’s referring. “It was pretty nice, yeah. You look good in a soap beard.” 

Y/N scoffs at his joking compliment. “Thanks. I’ll grow it out more often. Just for you.” 

The young man reaches up and grips over his chest in fake passion, face contorted into a wistful expression. “That’s all I ask.” 

The pair break into childish giggles and the sensation of Harry rubbing across the top of her hand is starting to make her head fuzzy. “What about yours? What was your favorite?”

Harry mulls over his own topic for a few seconds, lips puckering in thought as his eyes narrow pensively. The comically adorable picture makes Y/N’s heart skip. 

“I think…” Harry lists his gaze downwards back onto his patiently-awaiting friend, lips spreading into his patented dazzling smile. “I think it was probably the Hamilton reenactment.” 

Y/N brows jump, mood slightly unconvinced. “Really?” 

The vampire nods confidently, his own eyebrows inching upwards, voice amused. “Why is that so hard to believe?”   

Y/N shrugs offhandedly, glimpsing down at where the ridges of his thumb are delivering soothing shots of bliss into her veins. “You’re just so...y’know...you… so I guess I just expected you’d have a preference for the more…” She chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to be so brazen with the risk of someone overhearing, “...intimate parts of the weekend.”

“Wow, okay. Just call me a whore to my face, then. That’s fine.” 

Y/N throws her free hand upwards in a fist, slugging Harry on the shoulder with appalled shock overtaking her features. His boyish chuckles echo off the walls of the building as she whips her head around to make sure no one had witnessed his dirty bluntness. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah.” He purposefully raises his voice, nearly shouting the following sentence just to get on her nerves. “You’re slut-shaming me!” 

Y/N surges forward, trying to clamp her hand over his mouth and save herself the embarrassment. “Harry, shut up!”

He easily fights her off, his supernatural strength beating hers tenfold. She ends up wrapped in his embrace, flushed against his hard chest as he sticks his tongue out at her mockingly. He drops his tone back down to normal, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip to keep more laughter from bubbling over. “That’s not nice. You should stop conforming to society’s outdated ‘sex is taboo’ narrative.”

“I wasn’t—” Y/N starts insistently, but then she realizes she’s become almost as loud as him so she forces her voice to taper into an alarmed hiss instead. “I wasn’t slut-shaming you! I was simply expressing—”

“You just see me as a toy, don’t you?” The creature cuts her off, lips dipping downwards into a glorified frown. He proceeds to bat his lashes and sniffle, packing as many theatrics as possible into his mopey act. “I have feelings, y’know? My big dick and cunnilingus skills aren’t my only redeeming qualities! You should be ashamed of yourself for objectifying me like that.”

Y/N presses her lips together to ward off an immature grin, rattling her head to get herself under control. She gives him a stern look, warning him to cut it out. “Stop being a child.” 

“Stop using me for sex and making derogatory assumptions about my promiscuity.”  

“Oh, hop of it! You use me right back. It’s mutual.”

“Which is why the slut-shaming is such a paradox.” 

“For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t fucking— You know what? You can’t even pin me on the objectification part because you do it to me all the time!” 

“Oh, is that so?” Harry prods with a humorous tilt of his head, squeezing at her love handles and swimming in the way she wriggles around. “Elaborate.” 

“When you slapped my ass in the shower. Or when you put your hand under my shirt to play with my chest while we watch TV.” Y/N debates, poking at the thorax of his butterfly tattoo. “Very objectifying, if you ask me.”

“Mm, not quite, darling.” The vampire shakes his head and draws her closer, ducking down to flirt the tip of his nose along the slope of hers. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh, yeah?” She digs her nails into his pectorals, discreetly savoring the strong muscles. “What is it?”

Harry glimpses down at where she’s carving indents into his flesh, enjoying the minute pain more than he should. He drifts his mouth closer towards her ear, inhaling the scent of his shampoo wafting from her silky strands of hair. “The difference is that you’re usually begging me to do all those things.”

Y/N’s teeth grind in begrudging defeat, her spine giving a surrendered shiver at his crude point. “Whatever.” 

Harry releases her body, haughty victory written all over his posture. “I rest my case.” 

Y/N’s pride blazes, a threat falling from her tongue sharply, but it holds no true intentions. “Maybe I should just stop asking you to, then.”

“You won’t.” The boy sighs airily, tapping his bare foot against the ground without a care in the world. “You like me too much.” 

“Even if I like you, I’d have enough dignity to stop seeing you if I wanted.” Y/N huffs, making a face at him to emphasize her stance. “It’s this little thing called ‘willpower.’”

“Yeah, well, we both know you and your willpower are gonna end up texting my number Friday night, asking me to come over for some more interior design advice.” Harry snarkily dismisses, presenting a scenario where he’s holding an invisible phone in his hands, pretending to tap out a message. His voice comes out high-pitched, mimicking her own. “Hey, one of the rungs on my headboard came loose. Can you come help me fix it?”

Y/N stares at him with eyes half-lidded in pettiness. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re right. You’re a tad more nasally.” 

“Asshole.” 

“I’m just calling it like I see it, love.”

Y/N socks him on the shoulder again as retribution, though it barely has an impact. 

After a couple heartbeats full of vengeful silence, Y/N chimes up with a jesting tone, though the manner in which she’s picking at her nails tells Harry she’s slightly anxious. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to send out a text inviting you to come over Friday...would you?”

A lopsided simper pops the immortal’s dimples awake. He shifts on his feet, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I could very well make it.” 

Y/N chews on her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks jolt. “Ok, well...Let’s say— once again, hypothetically— that I should be home by eight that day. Would that work for you?” 

Harry cocks his head from side to side as if churning the offer around his mind. “I think that, hypothetically, that fits right into my schedule.”

The human’s belly flops in giddy excitement. “Great. It’s booked, then. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

“Of course.” Harry agrees, the reply accompanied by a teasing furrow of his sculpted brows and a curt nod. 

Y/N clasps her hands in front of her thighs with finality, giving him a bright smile. “Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.” Harry confirms with a cheeky wink, running his tongue along his top teeth to keep from bursting into giggles. “Hypothetically.” 

“Hypothetically.” Y/N states with a slight bow of her head, tucking one hand into the back pocket of her dark jeans as she takes a step back from the front door with a small wave. She turns on her heel to face the elevator at the other end of the hall, her foot lifting to take the first step towards the exit. 

“Wait.” 

The mortal looks back towards her friend, eyebrows poised in question. 

Harry scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling softly. “I could really go for a goodbye kiss. Not-so-hypothetically.” 

Y/N blinks at him in wonder. He’s never asked for one before. 

The awkward aura that quickly fills the space between them becomes suffocating. He considers the option of telling her he was just joking to spare himself the humiliation, but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N lurches forward, teetering onto the tips of her toes and buttoning her lips to his. The spontaneous action makes him swallow his words. 

He fumbles to cup her jaw, kissing her back with just as much fervor and feeling the coldness of his skin fizzle away under her inherent warmth. The gesture isn’t sexual or desperate, but simply sweet and fulfilling. He enjoys it, though it’s not surprising given that he enjoys her lips touching him in any and every way imaginable. He’s not exactly sure why he’d made this particular request— it’s very out of character for him, in every sense of the phrase— but he deduces it’s likely because he wants one more thing to cling onto until he gets to feel her mouth again. It’s not uncommon to want a little something extra to get through the tougher nights, so it’s truly not that big of an occurrence. It’s only reasonable.  

Y/N breaks their exchange, eyes glassy and so beautifully clear as she pecks his chin one last time in a polite farewell. “Text me if you need me...And especially if you need me.”

Harry gulps thickly at the suggestive statement, nodding numbly as her body heat slips away. “Will do. Thanks. And thanks for the kiss. Needed it to tide me over until Friday.” 

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.” 

Harry waits patiently until Y/N’s figure disappears behind the gilded doors of the fancy elevator, watching the closed slates of metal glint coldly under the blurry lighting of the condominium’s corridor. He walks back into his apartment, shutting the door gently and slouching into the plush cushions of his leather sofa with a detached sigh. He gazes up at his extravagant chandeliers, once again left in the empty solitude he’d grown so fond of in his extensive lifetime. There’s not a single sound or motion invading his seclusion, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his rug, and everything is so still and quiet, it’s almost deafening. But despite every aspect being as it should, he can’t shake the sensation that something is off. Something is wrong. Something’s missing.

And for the first time in years, he finds himself feeling more lonely than alone. 

///

It only takes Harry about an hour of uneventful isolation to realize he’s made a grave mistake. 

He should have gone on the trip. 

Despite the fact that the vampire lives alone, he very rarely spends any time without seeing his friends. Since they all reside in the same building, it’s fairly easy for him to find some entertainment whenever boredom strikes. He’ll either go up a floor to Mitch’s place to watch a movie or mess around with his collection of vintage guitars, or he’ll go a level below to visit Adam and talk about any new art exhibits opening up around the area. He could visit Niall three floors above to play some FIFA on his gaming console and share porn recommendations, or even take the elevator to the twelfth floor to bother Xander and talk some shit while they do each other’s nails. And if Harry’s feeling extra needy for attention, he could always just invite them all over to his place so the group could go out for some Thai food at the restaurant down the street, or go see a movie at the cinema, or take a ride to their favorite local bar. 

No matter the circumstances, his friends are always readily available for him when he needs them, so he very solemnly spends his days alone. That is, until now. 

The entire crew had left for the Vegas trip and— as a result of his own irresponsibility and immature hormones— had left him all by himself for the next seven days. He would never admit it aloud to spare himself the ridicule of being overly sappy, but he misses the group. He misses Mitch’s soft voice and quiet wittiness, and he misses Adam’s cheeky banter and random fun facts, and he misses Niall’s inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter, and he even misses Xander’s annoying digs and childish pettiness. He didn’t know how much he took it all for granted until it was gone.

For the rest of the week, Harry is practically miserable. The guys don’t text him much, which can be expected since the whole point of the holiday is to enjoy every second of it; there would be no point in traveling four hours just to sit in their hotel and message him. He talks to Y/N a bit, but she is also occupied most of the time with work, given that she had to take on a few extra shifts on behalf of her co-workers. The earliest she goes in is six A.M., the latest she comes out is nine P.M., and by then, Harry reckons she’s probably falling asleep in the entrance corridor of her home. He understands her exhaustion and therefore doesn’t expect her to humor him; it wouldn’t be fair. 

With everyone in his life busy and with his flat feeling colder and emptier than ever, it’s a miracle he doesn’t go mad within its walls. He goes out a handful of times to do some grocery shopping, for a run around a nearby park, and to take a walk along his favorite mall, but that’s it, really. He doesn’t go out to eat simply because he thinks it would be embarrassing having to sit alone at a restaurant; it’s pitiful and sad and he’s not going to subject himself to that. The most stimulating social interaction he has that week is a tie between a bit of flirting with a Target cashier, some suggestive gazing exchanged with a Starbucks barista, and a couple of cheeky caresses from a Gucci store employee taken while measuring his waist for a custom order. None of it satisfies him the way it normally does, though, and he can’t place why. 

By the time Friday evening rolls around, Harry is a hair short from letting his regular case of stir-crazy slip into a full-on psychotic break. That’s why he ends up at Y/N’s complex earlier than the agreed-upon hour, stepping out of his Cadillac with twenty minutes left to spare and with a certain desperation eating away at the back of his skull.

The creature casually jogs up the worn steps to her floor, the only sound being the heels of his maroon velvet boots clicking against the cement ground. He whistles softly to the vague tune of a new pop song that had been playing on the radio— Wet Ass something?— as he tucks his phone into his pocket and brushes a few traces of lint off his freshly-ironed button-up. 

His outfit for tonight is nothing too spectacular, but it isn’t too lazy, either. It’s a long-sleeve black silk shirt with glass buttons and a pair of large swallows embroidered along either sides of his chest, the threads dyed royal and pastel blue, cherry red, and creamy yellow. The top is cuffed up his elbows and unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, showing off his naturally tanned skin and matching swallow inkings, the cross on his delicate chain centered between his pecs and twinkling under the flickering lights. He’d coupled the loose blouse with some black skinny jeans, a dark leather belt, a small golden hoop earring, and his trusty collection of rings and necklaces. In his opinion, it’s a proper look for a planned-out booty call. Formal, but easy to rip off. Especially in a blind hurry. 

Harry figures that he’ll check to see if Y/N is home, just to cover the bases. If she isn’t, he’ll tred back down the stairs and wait for her in his car. If she is, then that’s all the better; there’s no damage in starting a bit earlier than scheduled. It makes for a better recoup period between rounds. 

The immortal turns the corner into the familiar hallway where Y/N’s flat is located, one of his hands already forming into a loose fist with the intention of knocking on her door. He makes it about five paces before he’s slapped with an image that causes him to stop cold in his tracks, his whistling coming to an abrupt halt. 

Harry blinks repeatedly and lowers the frame of his pink Gucci sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, wanting to make sure the scene before him isn’t a figment of his imagination. Much to his displeasure, it isn’t. 

About three meters ahead, situated right in front of her door with her back facing towards him, is Y/N. That isn’t the odd aspect of the picture, though. What’s odd is that her usual grimy work attire is missing, which he had expected to see given that he knows she always goes to the cafe on Fridays. Instead, she is clad in the pastel blue floral sundress she had worn for him all those weeks back, when they had slept together for the second time. And instead of wearing her scuffed up Vans, she is wearing a pair of pretty tan sandals. And instead of having her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, it’s down and fanned around her shoulders in a glossy sheen of tousled curls. And she’s wearing perfume— the same one she had worn the night they met. He can smell it from here and it makes his brows furrow in confusion. She never wears perfume to work; she says it’s forbidden since it can make customers nauseous. 

But aside from all of those unorthodox details, there is one specific factor above all that throws Harry for the biggest loop he’s encountered in the last five weeks of knowing her. 

Y/N isn’t alone. She’s accompanied by another man. 

Harry gives the stranger a calculating once-over, taking in every aspect of the boy’s appearance. He has to keep himself from sputtering into laughter. This has to be some type of fucking joke. 

The bloke is fit, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s handsome and somewhat muscular, but in a manner that is painfully cliche and utterly boring. He has sandy blonde hair that falls across his forehead in a shaggy sideways bang, eyes the color of a Malibu beach, and generally soft features with the exception of decent cheekbones. He’s wearing a dull orange polo, khaki pants, Levi sneakers, and an annoyingly giant watch on his wrist that gives the impression he’s trying to show off. Harry nearly vomits in his mouth. 

Who the fuck would wear a polo willingly? And how brain dead does he have to be to think khakis are still in style? His fashion sense is obviously stunted. It appears his brain is stuck in his middle school phase, when the Justin Bieber haircut and douchey brands were all the rave amongst snotty pre-teens. Also, his watch is an embarrassment. Harry doesn’t know what the guy is attempting— and failing— to show off, considering the accessory is chunky and ugly and not even Versace or Rolex. It’s a disgrace. 

As if the forced posh demeanor isn’t enough, the imbecile actually has the guts to have a fake tan. The vampire isn’t surprised, unfortunately, given that eighty percent of all Los Angeles residents think it’s acceptable to dip-dye themselves into a carrot. He faintly wonders if the man’s balls are colored, as well, or if his ass and sack are as pale as his personality probably is. That would be quite the comedic sight either way. Creamsicles for the win, he supposes. 

Harry may not be alarmed by the blonde boy’s get-up, but he is disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. Horrifically disgusted. What is Y/N doing with this moron? 

According to what he’s gathered from her personality and the pillow talks they often share, she hates the California stereotype almost as much as he does, if not more. She hates the fake tans and bleached hair and lack of conscience. She hates the outdated teenage brands, cringey jewelry, and fraternity member aesthetic. She especially hates the fact that some of these people don’t understand the basic principles of boundaries. And the thing is, this dude-bro of a man definitely ticks all of those boxes— especially with how close he’s standing next to her, looming above her frame with one arm extended against the surface of her door, trying to look nonchalant and cool as he drawls on about whatever topic they’re discussing. 

He’s practically the poster child for everything the girl despises, from the straightened hair to the alter boy church pants to the stupid forest tattoo on his forearm. So what in the flying fuck is she doing entertaining him? What is she doing standing outside her apartment with this trashy, bacon strip-looking, youth leader knock-off, 2012 Bieber impersonator of a human? 

It has to be a joke. It just has to. There’s no other valid explanation, except maybe a plea of insanity. 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s scowling until the stranger makes eye contact with him. The boy’s face breaks into an expression of unsettled discomfort at the way the vampire is peering at him over his sunglasses, allowing his end of the conversation to falter to dust. Y/N’s brows cinch at the occurrence, her attention peeling away to follow where her date’s had wandered. 

The second her gaze locks with Harry’s intense own, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. Fuck.

Let it be known Y/N didn’t want this. She didn’t want to go on a date with Jacob. In fact, she didn’t know who Jacob was until halfway through this week and she honestly wishes it had stayed that way. She wishes she hadn’t picked up Melissa’s shift with Isabel, she wishes she hadn’t offered to wait that extra table in the back out of the kindness in her heart, and she wishes she hadn’t caught the attention of the customer inhabiting it. 

As it turns out, the young man was Isabel’s cousin. He had come to pick her up since the girl’s car had been stuck at the shop for the last few days, and he had arrived a bit earlier than intended, deciding to sit at the back table to wait out the final ten minutes of his relative’s shift. Y/N had simply assumed that he was a regular customer, so she had gone to give him the usual trained introduction in order to follow the golden rule of customer service: Don’t keep a guest waiting. 

Jacob had explained the situation to Y/N, to which she responded with a light laugh and an instinctive apology. She had told him she’d go fetch Isabel for him and bid the boy goodbye. In her rational opinion, she had thought that would be it— a simple crossing of two paths that would likely never cross again— but evidently, the visitor had a very different idea. 

The human’s shift had continued as planned and everything had been going great until Isabel ducked into the kitchen right before leaving, dancing her way across the room and poking her coworker playfully in the tummy.  Apparently, from what Isabel had giddily told her, Jacob had taken an interest in Y/N. It was a bit ridiculous, if you asked her, considering they’d only talked for a total of about thirty seconds before parting routes. But Y/N hadn’t voiced that opinion; she didn’t want to come off as rude. 

Jacob had asked his cousin to set them up on a date and that is why Isabel had gone into the back before leaving. Y/N’s immediate impulse had been to decline. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at the moment. Other than Harry, of course. He handled all her needs just fine and they got on so well, she’d be crazy to replace him with some random guy she barely knew. She had gone to express this to Isabel in a gentler manner with an apologetic tone, but the words had ended up lodging in her throat. The girl had stared at Y/N with so much excitement, she’d immediately felt a wave of guilt erupt into her chest. 

She found it difficult to refuse, given that turning down the offer might come off as bitchy and insensitive. Here Isabel was, trying to innocently play match-maker on behalf of someone she cared about, buzzing with glee and smiling at her so big, her cheeks probably hurt. The last thing Y/N wanted was to upset her by basically telling her that Jacob wasn’t up to par with her standards. Rejecting him could be something her acquaintance took personally and Y/N didn’t want to have to deal with drama in the workplace, especially not with someone whose shifts often mirror her own. 

Y/N had reluctantly agreed to the invitation, her only request being that she had to be home by seven thirty. That would give her enough time to prepare for Harry’s visit. 

Her compliance had landed her where she is now, standing in front of her apartment door with a boy she has no interest in. 

It had been a terrible date, though Jacob took no notice of that. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself, going on and on about his college years, and about how he works at a popular surf shop and could probably get her discounted lessons, and about how he doesn’t think he could survive without his Jeep. How he plays guitar and wants to be a famous actor, how he doesn’t understand why people dislike fake tanning, and how his dad owns a country club in South Carolina. How he loves sports, how he thinks museums are dumb, and how he likes girls who are willing to cook for him after they hookup. How he loves going clubbing and that he misses his ex. 

Y/N had nearly groaned out loud at the last two.

It was cruel and unusual torture, in all honestly, and Y/N is just glad it’s over. She’d fulfilled her role— she’d even been nice enough to dress up, to at least finge interest— and could now go free, never having to hear another word about surfboard wax or college football ever again. If only he’d fucking leave.

Jacob had insisted on walking her to the door, which would be sweet if she hadn’t developed a burning hatred for him in the last hour. It came off as annoying and pushy instead, but she allowed it on the grounds of maintaining a polite front. 

She shouldn’t have allowed it. As soon as they’d gotten to her door, he’d started talking all over again and Y/N had no choice but to stand there and listen. She couldn’t go anywhere, given that this is her place and she’s expecting someone. She figured she’d give him until seven fifty and then make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom in order to get him to piss off. That plan had crumbled when Harry had shown up twenty minutes early. 

The look of inflamed shock that poses Harry’s handsome features makes her stomach curdle. 

She hadn’t meant for him to see this. She’d only gone on the date to spare herself some petty trouble with a coworker. Nothing was bound to come of it, other than a free meal and a guilt-free conscience. It didn’t mean anything and she had no intention of letting it get in between what she and Harry have going. But from an outside perspective, she knows it looks much different. 

The agreement they have isn’t exclusive by any means, but over the last five weeks, the pair have grown pretty comfortable with one another and had given connotations that they weren’t kindling other possible relationships. There’s a type of silent agreement between them that if they were to seek out other people, they would share that information with each other on the grounds of courtesy, friendship, and respect. But Y/N hadn’t said a word to spare him the baseless stress and now he’d run into her smack in the middle of what appears to be a very compromising situation; things aren’t looking good at all. It looks like she’s losing interest in Harry and couldn’t be bothered to tell him. It looks like she’s out for a replacement. It looks like she doesn’t care about their connection at all. 

This is bad. This is really bad.

Y/N’s voice comes out as a shrill shriek of surprise, her body turning abruptly to fully face his rigid own. “Harry! Uh— hi!” 

Harry blinks at her emptily for a moment and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. She can’t read his mind or his expression, but she reckons he’s probably trying to decide if he should follow through on their rendezvous or if he should just leave and never talk to her again. The idea of him choosing the latter makes her mouth go sour. 

The vampire’s emerald irises flit back and forth between his friend and the unknown man behind her, trying to interpret the tone and texture of the circumstance. She’s obviously on a date, if her appearance is any indication, and it’s obviously coming to a close right now, exactly when he’s scheduled to arrive. 

That’s the determining factor that helps him decide his next move. 

Y/N had invited Harry over last Sunday, meaning that she had made their commitment first. This date had to have come into play later in the week, and she had purposefully planned it around their agreed hour in order to give him her undivided attention when the time came. If she had gone out with this guy and then rushed back home to get to him, that must mean she doesn’t plan on indulging another meeting with the stranger. She hadn’t cancelled his visit, either, so that also suggests she isn’t truly interested in this bloke. That makes sense...right?

But that still begs the question: Why had she gone out with him in the first place?

He knows he isn’t owed an explanation, but he also knows that Y/N isn’t the type of person who would just blindside him like this. She isn’t soulless— she’s sweet and caring and generous, so she would never drop him without any warning or consideration for his feelings. She’d never abandon him without telling him why. She’d never do anything that might run a chance of hurting him. 

The immortal is more than aware he doesn’t have the right to be upset about it, either. Their arrangement is loose and open on both ends and he likes it that way. He likes that their relationship isn’t weighed down by commitment and monogamy; it gives him a sense of freedom and independence he’s known to thrive off of. It lets him be himself without playing her emotions, and without causing a ruckus in the plans she has for her new life. And he gets the same in return— he gets to have his needs attended without sacrificing his core beliefs. Their friends with benefits trope rides along the wings of an official bond, only giving them what they want and nothing they don’t, which is how it was meant to be. How it should be.

So why does seeing her with someone else make him feel sick to his stomach?

Harry shakes off the ball of contempt writhing in his chest, clearing the tightness from his throat and molding his expression into a facade of calm indifference. Jealousy is for idiots. 

The vampire fully wraps his perched fingers around the rim of his sunglasses, removing them from the arch of his nose and tucking the shades along the collar of his shirt. He forces his feet to do their job, his lanky legs lurching forward and falling into a casual stride as he walks towards the two humans awaiting a response. 

Harry comes to a stop beside the mortals, clasping his bejeweled hands behind his back and plastering a dazzling grin across his cheeks. He regards his friend with a slight bow of his head, voice airy and carefree as ever. “Hey, Y/N.”

She almost faints in relief. Thank God he’s not mad. 

Y/N returns his smile, shoulders visibly relaxing. “It’s nice to see you.”

“S’nice to see you, too. Always such a…” He pauses, licking at the corner of his lips suggestively, giving her a knowing once-over that only she can interpret, “pleasure.”

The girl ignores the heat that immediately floods her cheeks. Of course he’s doing this in front of Jacob. Of course he’s peacocking. “Likewise.” 

Harry trains his attention onto the young man before him, pursing his lips into a polite smile. As polite as he can muster, anyways. “And who’s this?” 

Y/N blinks herself back into the present, quickly glancing away from Harry’s sharp jaw, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. He feels his ego swell a smidge.  

“This is Jacob.” The human comments easily, signaling to him with an upturned palm. “He’s Isabel’s cousin. You remember Isabel, right? You met her at the club.” 

“I don’t think I do, actually.” Harry murmurs, glimpsing up towards the ceiling to suggest he’s wracking his thoughts. He has a very vague recollection of the two girls he’d momentarily encountered the day he’d first met Y/N, but it’s hazy and unimportant. 

He looks back down at her with sparkling irises, rosy lips twitching with amusement at his next words, knowing they’re going to have a favorable impact. “I guess I was just too distracted by you to pay much attention to anyone else.”  

He can hear more blood rush into her face and the ecstasy it brings him is immeasurable. He cranes his sight back onto Jacob, who has the slightest crease in his brows at Harry’s compliment. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted. 

The monster unclamps his hands and juts one out stiffly towards the mortal. “M’Harry. Good to meet you, mate.” 

Jacob returns the gesture, grasping Harry’s hand firmly in a way the vampire knows is to try and establish dominance. It tickles him when humans try to be tough, especially because Harry could tear his arm right out of its socket as easily as he could lift a sheet of paper. The creature tightens his grip to match the man’s, purposefully putting a tad more strength in to make a silent point. He has to withhold the urge to crunch the boy’s fingers to dust. 

They both release from the exchange and a wave of dark satisfaction trickles into Harry’s bones when he sees Jacob curl and stretch his digits in mild pain. 

Y/N watches the whole scene with a breath trapped in her lungs. This feels surreal.

The blonde clears his throat softly, mouth jilting into an empty smile and it’s obvious he’s only doing it just to keep things civil. “Good to meet you, too. I take it you’re British?” 

“Pure-bred.” Harry remarks proudly, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly as if it’s no big deal. His gaze slinks towards Y/N for a second, tongue pushing along the inside of his cheek smugly. “It works wonders with the ladies.”

A flicker of spite stains the blue in Jacob’s eyes and the vampire feels like his soul is ascending. This is fun. 

“I can only imagine.” His opponent responds, voice somewhat strained as he directs his next question to the two friends. “So how do you know each other?” 

Harry opens his mouth to make an arrogant comment along the lines of, “A club. A few drinks. Some amazing sex. Y’know, the usual.” but Y/N knows him well enough that she anticipates it, speaking over him loudly before he can even get a syllable out.

“We met at a club and hit it off really well. Been friends ever since.” 

The immortal has to keep himself from adding something snarky to the end of her summary. He only does it because he can see a sharp warning flash across Y/N’s eyes. It’s wordless, but stern nonetheless: Don’t.

Harry swallows down his dig and feels it burn a hole in his stomach. Why is she protecting his feelings?

In all honesty, Y/N is only doing it out of kindness and nothing else. As annoying as Jacob may be, he doesn’t deserve to be embarrassed simply because Harry wants to feed his pride. It may be funny, but it’s pretty immature.

“Right.” Harry sighs happily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Friends. Good friends. Close friends. Intimate friends.” 

Y/N presses her lips into a straight line to keep herself in check. He’s trying to work her over and, unfortunately, he’s succeeding.  

“That’s nice.” Jacob nods casually, the innuendo luckily going right over his head. 

“Yeah, it is.” Harry states, eyes glinting mischievously as he quickly studies the man once again. He can’t help himself, he truly can’t. Not when this terribly-styled buffoon makes it so fucking easy. “I like your tan, by the way.” 

The human looks down at his arms for significance, eyes brightening. “Thank you! I got it done at that new place in—”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Looks almost real.” 

Jacob blinks blankly at the backhanded compliment. “Oh—?” 

“I mean, it’s got a few streaks here and there and your left arm looks a little more orange, but I think—”

“Anyways!” Y/N swiftly cuts in, interrupting her friend’s judgmental spiel and directing her attention towards her date. “Harry and I were actually planning on going to see a movie, which is why I had to be home by seven-thirty— we do it every Friday. And the movie starts at eight and traffic’s a bitch, so that’s why I was in such a hurry to get home.” 

Jacob nods slowly, giving her a sweet, understanding smile that makes Harry’s supernatural blood boil. “I see. Well, I—”

The vampire interrupts him once again, condescension flaring in his chest and dancing across the specks of amber surrounding his pupils. “Yeah, Y/N and I go to the theater every Friday. Recently, we’ve been going to the movies every single day of the weekend. And most times, we see several movies a night.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenches at Harry’s barely-veiled insinuation. She tries to talk over him, but he beats her to the punch. 

“Y’know what I’m talking about, right, Y/N?” He nudges her side playfully with his elbow, ignoring the way her eyes tell him to cut it out. “Remember that time we saw three movies in one night? Or the one that had the jacuzzi in it?”

The girl glimpses over at Jacob, who looks utterly confused and uncomfortable. “Harry—”

“Or what about that crime film, yeah? The one with the handcuffs.” He pinches at her love handle teasingly, reveling in how her entire torso tenses under his touch. “The one where they grabbed the criminal and slammed them up against the mirror? You have to remember that one. It’s hard to forget.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enough talk about—” 

“Oh, c’mon, dove.” Harry slings an arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, squeezing her into his body and feeling Jacob’s glare pierce the side of his face. He stares intently into Y/N’s irises, dimples winking awake at the needy desperation gradually inking its way into their reflection. His tone comes out soft but heavy with authoritative suggestion— the kind he always uses in bed. “Tell me you remember.” 

Y/N gulps quietly, mumbling her words begrudgingly. “Yeah, I...I remember.” 

A coy hum runs along the back of the vampire’s throat as he licks across his top teeth slyly. “I think that was your favorite one, wasn’t it? You seemed to have really enjoyed it. Like, properly enjoyed it. Loved every single second, if I recall correctly.” 

The human forces herself to cast her intent elsewhere, ears simmering and breathing stuttering ever so slightly. Her sight lands back onto a very frazzled Jacob, who is looking at the pair as if they’d sprouted horns, shifting unsurely across his feet. The expression of innocent befuddlement on his face makes guilt twist into her heart.   

The mortal roughly shrugs off Harry’s arm, stepping forward and placing a palm on Jacob’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much for the date. It was...nice.” 

Harry’s fists clench at his sides, though the action goes unnoticed. 

The human boy nods giddily at Y/N, glancing down to where she’s touching him so tenderly. “‘Course! I had a great time, too.” 

“Make sure to tell Isabel that. Maybe it’ll get her to do some sweeping on my behalf.” The girl jokes, giggling softly right along with the stranger. 

Harry can feel his nails threatening to break into his skin. 

“We really have to get going, though, so I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N prods, gifting her date one last beautiful smile to ease the awkwardness that had settled into the atmosphere, courtesy of Harry’s antics. 

“Sure!” Jacob bobs his head in agreement, pulling out his phone and swaying it symbolically. “You have my number, just text me whenever.” 

“Sounds good.”

Once the young man’s footsteps have faded down the complex’s staircase, Y/N swivels around on her heel to face Harry, arms falling across her chest in an irritated fashion. Her face pinches with annoyance as he leans casually against her door, his own arms folding over his strong chest with his fingers tapping along the inside of his elbows, attitude depicting not a single care in the world. 

He crosses his ankles easily, brows quirking at the way she’s blatantly glaring at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that people whose names start with a letter ‘J’ are bound to ruin your life?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry!” Y/N snaps, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her glossed lips dip into an aggravated grimace. “Are you serious right now?”

He tilts his head curiously, stifling a simper. “What’s wrong, love?”

“What’s wrong?” She retorts with a humorless laugh, astonished at his ability to act so purposefully dense. “You’re a fucking dick, that’s what’s wrong.”

The vampire sputters into a round of boyish cackling, his entire body shaking against the surface below him as his eyes crinkle shut in mirth. Y/N would be further infuriated if it wasn’t so damn cute. 

Harry’s laughter slowly dies down and once he has himself composed, his shoulders rise and fall once dismissively. “I was just fucking around. I didn’t think much of it.” 

“You didn’t think—?” Y/N chokes out in indignation, stomping over to him and poking him straight in the chest, right over his butterfly tattoo. Her perfume makes his mind swim in the best way imaginable. “You didn’t think for a second, in that big head of yours, that talking about our sex life in front of my date was overstepping?” 

Hearing Y/N officially refer to Jacob as her date makes Harry’s mood drop somberly. He tries to push it down and keep up a comical edge, but it’s harder than he’d care to admit. His accent comes out small and almost fragile, much to her surprise. “Well, I didn’t know you were on a date. Maybe if you had told me, I wouldn’t have come.” 

His words sting for some unknown reason. 

The mortal draws closer to him until he’s hovering above her, arms dropping down to her sides to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she tilts her chin upwards to get a better look at his stoney face. All anger melts right out of her voice, replaced by her usual delicate cadence. “Well, I...I didn’t think you’d care, really.” 

“I don’t.” He replies a little too quickly, a small pang of regret pricking his chest when her face immediately falls. “I mean...I mean it as in, like...I’m not keeping tabs on you or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to limit you.” 

Y/N looks back up at him from under her lashes, tone unreadable. “I didn’t think you were. Limiting me, that is. You don’t...limit me.”

Harry nods his head sharply in relieved confirmation, coughing a bit. His throat feels drier than usual and he knows it’s not for a blood-driven reason. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do.”

“Alright.” 

A charged silence befalls the ambiance between them and the vampire comes to the conclusion that getting his neck snapped was less painful than having this conversation. At least that was quick, whereas this is grueling and horribly uncomfortable, ridden with anxiety and too many elongated pauses. They are walking on extremely thin eggshells around one another, which is something they’ve never had to do before. They have always been on the same wavelength about their relationship and not once has such a nerve-inducing instance come to pass. Now a wrench has been thrown into their metaphorical mechanism and the nuts and bolts are dismantling by the handfuls, leaving them barren and closed-off more than ever. He can feel this situation straining their friendship and he hates it more than he hates those stupid tapestries she fancies.

“If you knew you were gonna be busy,” Harry starts carefully, gluing his attention to a random stain on the cement ground as he scuffs the heel of his boot against her dirty welcome mat, “why didn’t you just text me and cancel?” 

Y/N takes a shaky inhale, focusing on tracing the faded cursive letters on her rug. “I...I still wanted you to come.”

Harry’s foot halts its motions, gaze jumping to her for a thoughtful second, brows knotting with mild confusion at her confession. If she still wants him in her bed, why was she indulging someone else? “You wanted me to come?...Why?”

“Because Fridays are our days.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch. Our days. Their days. Theirs.

The brunette clears his throat to try and saw away at the tension, shifting against the door as the subject delves into heavier territory. He’s never been one to stutter— he’s much too confident in himself to ever have that issue— but it seems to have become a new development whenever Y/N is around. “If...If you want— uhm...If you want to see other people, you obviously don’t need my permission or anything. But I’d like a little heads-up, just so I know where we stand.” 

Y/N releases a curt sigh of exasperation and somehow, Harry can tell it’s not aimed towards him. It’s aimed towards herself. 

She fidgets with the tips of her fingers, talking to the floor but directing her message towards her friend. “It’s not what you think, H.” 

Harry pins his intent back onto her face, intrigue fully peaked. “What do you mean?” 

Y/N takes another trembling breath, releasing it through her nose as a tired exhale. She can feel him looming over her, waiting for an appropriate response with his lips set into a detached line, his ever-present aroma of vanilla and tobacco muddling her thoughts. “I...I mean the date. It wasn’t truly a real date, per se.”

The vampire’s eyes bore into her relentlessly as he clings onto every syllable she speaks. He’s clutching to a form of hope that he deems absolutely humiliating. “How so?”

Y/N picks at the chipping lavender polish on her nails and he finds it adorable how the color of the lacquer matches one of the main notes in her scent. 

She speaks up softly and honestly, and he thinks he detects a shred of guilt to her explanation. “Isabel was the one who set it up. Her cousin came into the cafe and when he saw me, he asked her to get me to go on a date with him. I have no actual interest in Jacob, but I said yes just to be nice. I didn’t wanna upset Isabel by making her think her cousin wasn’t good enough for me or something. That’s the only reason I went.” 

Harry slowly twists his lionhead daylight ring around his middle finger, simultaneously thumbing over the opal on his pinky. The stone is cold to the touch, but not nearly as cold as his skin. 

He reiterates her story slowly, wanting to make sure he interpreted correctly. “So...you only went on the date because you felt bad? You don't actually like him?”

Y/N’s hands plop down against her thighs as she tilts her head back up to look at him, her tone and eyes completely deadpan. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound kind of mean.” 

Harry snorts softly, mouth buckling into his signature crooked smirk. “It’s pretty cruel, to be honest— giving that poor bloke hope like that. Very malicious of you.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle jokingly, her lips toying with a grin. “Shut up.” 

“You should be careful. Something tells me his ego bruises easily.” 

“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?” 

The vampire sucks at his teeth, tapping his chin in faux thought as he shrugs his brows tauntingly. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably the overly-tight shirt and fraternity ring. Seems to me like he’s trying to make up for something he lacks. Probably in the intimacy department.”

Y/N chews along her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles. “You are cruel.” 

“I prefer the term ‘brutally honest.’ Sounds classier.” 

“Right. Because you’re all about class.” 

“Heyyyy!” Harry whines in exaggerated insult, face contorting with dramatic offense. “I’m a classy guy! I have the English accent and fancy chandeliers to prove it!” 

“Right. Super classy.” 

“I’m a proper gentleman.” The monster huffs with begrudging finality, irises glitzing deviously. “That is, until you beg me to behave otherwise.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He looks down at her over the crests of his sharp cheekbones as she gazes up at him with a humorously flat expression, feeling all the pent-up stress from the previous events dissolve away into nothing. Harry reaches forward, taking a single curled strand of her hair and moving it behind her shoulder to get a better look at her face. The gesture makes Y/N’s heartbeat hiccup. Especially when that same forefinger ends up poised below her chin, his thumb distractedly caressing across her jaw. 

The creature’s next sentence comes out low and almost vulnerable. “So it meant nothing, then? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to get in the way of your dating life if you—”

“It meant nothing.” Y/N confirms, bobbing her head once insistently. She cradles her cheek into his icy palm, keeping their eyes locked as she gives it a gentle kiss, her insides fluttering when Harry’s breathing hitches. “I’m not gonna be seeing him again anytime soon. Or ever, probably. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you— because I knew it wouldn’t change anything between us. You’re the only person I’m interested in right now.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

The young man swallows thickly, leaning down to smudge his nose across the girl’s and the action erupts a certain flood of warmth so powerful, it could very well kickstart the dead organ below his ribs. His voice is tumbling down his numb tongue before he can think to stop it. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” 

Y/N’s fingers stretch upwards to wrap around his wrist securely, almost as if to tether him and eliminate the chance of his touch slipping away. Her whisper is trembly and raw. “You have?” 

Harry knows he’s allowing this to wade into dangerously grey waters, but he can’t find it in himself to care, at the moment. “Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt last time.” 

The mortal teeters onto the tips of her toes, flirting her mouth over her friend’s, a prickling sensation stemming from where their cupid’s bows brush. She glimpses at him amidst her lashes, glassy eyes reflecting his need right back at him. “Tell me more. Please?”

The breath of Harry’s words is hot against her mouth, his eyes lulling closed as he recalls all of the memories from the last few days. “I just couldn’t shake it. You were just so tight and warm and the way you were pushing back against my thrusts...the way you were shaking and whimpering...the way you flipped around and slammed your mouth to mine because you wanted me to moan onto your tongue….It was so fucking filthy, I just— I couldn’t—”

His control begins to shatter and the immortal can feel desperation leak through the cracks webbing across his composure. Y/N isn’t helping any, considering she’s started suckling lightly at his bottom lip, her free hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Keep going.” 

Harry gulps heavily before continuing. “I touched myself while fantasying about you. Lost count of how many times, honestly. But I came so hard every single one. It was pretty easy to lose myself like that, just sitting there thinking about everything we do. Thinking about how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, taking it down your throat like such a good fucking girl. How nice your arse feels in my hands, especially when you ask me to spank it. How snug you are when you sink over me, stretching around it like it’s made just for you. How the little noises you make sound so fucking perfect— like a song, really. And...and how good you taste between your thighs. S’like honey. Just so fucking sweet.” 

There’s a pause as Harry’s words sink into the air, his dirty confessions pulling passion taut into existence between the two lovers. They’re all over each other in less than a heartbeat. 

Y/N begins to fumble with the small purse she has strung across her body, frantically fishing for her keys as Harry delights himself with sponging his lips across the slope of her jaw, grinning into her skin at the little curses escaping her throat. He absolutely adores how whipped she gets for him. 

The human manages to retrieve her key, jamming it into the lock blindly as her eyes blur with tears of sheer need, stemming from the tiny shots of bliss Harry is instilling through the sloppy pecks he’s trailing down her jugular. She hastily turns the knob, bumping her full weight into the door and nearly fainting in relief when it swings open. She turns sharply to face him, roping her arms around his strong shoulders and pulling him into her, shuddering at how incredible it feels to have his strong torso flushed to hers so intimately. Harry allows himself to be yanked forward into her apartment, giggling softly when she crashes their mouths together messily, harshly tugging him past the threshold. 

The vampire’s lean arms wrap around her waist as the young woman maneuvers their connected bodies into the narrow hallway of her flat, one of her hands waving around wildly until it succeeds in shoving the door shut. Y/N slams Harry up against the closest wall, feverishly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and nearly ripping them out of their designated holes. Her hands quiver as she races down the seams, her eyes tinging darker when Harry leans his head back against the panel and smirks down at her smugly. 

He gnaws on his bottom lip, his half-lidded gaze mocking her hysteria as his voice comes out deep and melodic as always, slathered with self-assured arrogance. “You’re so cute when you’re this eager to fuck me.” 

Y/N pants against his twitching lips, tearing his top down his broad figure and shamelessly groping at his swollen biceps. “Just shut up and kiss me.”  

Harry abides, lulling his tongue along her upper lip and thrumming deeply when her digits trickle down his abdomen. He coos into her mouth as she begins fiddling with his belt buckle. “What, no interior design emergency this time? You’re losing your touch, darling.” 

The girl pulls the leather strap off his pants in a frenzy, scoffing at his stupid quip and breaking their kiss to speckle her mouth down his bare chest, feeling it stutter below her influence. “I got some new chairs for my dining table. Wanna take a look?” 

The boy’s fingers card into her roots as she descends down his stomach with wet pecks, his eyes rolling closed with a strained grunt. She bites along his fern inkings and his hips buck forward in response, his grip on her hair tightening when she palms over the outline of his clothed cock. “You know I’m always a sucker for some good dining chairs.”

As it turns out, Y/N had actually gotten some new chairs, much to Harry’s surprise. 

They’re nice, in his opinion. They seem sturdy enough, with metal backrests and legs that are covered in tarnished gold paint that gives a pleasing rustic look. But in the end, Harry doesn’t really much care for the details of the furniture. All he cares about is if they’ll manage to withstand Y/N’s weight as he shoves her onto her knees atop the chair and bends her over the back. Or if they’ll stay put as he pounds into her from behind with a fist in her hair and his letter rings marking across her backside. That’s all that truly matters. 

Despite having done this countless of times before, this particular instance feels different. Both of them can tell, but Y/N feels it more prevalently. Specifically, in the bottom of her stomach and in the pain sweltering across her ass.

Harry’s just…rougher. He’s still himself, so he makes sure she’s okay with everything he does before doing it, but when he gets the green light, he doesn’t let it go to waste. His grip on her roots is harsh, with his nails digging into her scalp as he jerks her head back to bring her in for a kiss, her spine arching into a semi-circle. The position is difficult given the amount of flexibility required, but Y/N powers through. She quite likes it, actually— it gives him a deeper range of depth, somehow. She can feel him touching the trench of her tummy and she refuses to do anything that might make that stop.

The kiss is upside down, but the vampire doesn’t let that deter him. It’s still dirty and heedless, with lots of biting and overzealous tongues, broken whines and fractured pleas. Y/N freely moans into his mouth, gasping and mewling to his every thrust with a certain type of helplessness that flogs the flames blistering Harry’s dormant veins. He loves that he makes her feel helpless, especially because she makes him feel the exact same way. 

His stride is fast and deep and unapologetic— vengeful, almost, and they both know why. Even though Y/N had told the creature that the date had been nothing but a selfless chore, he can’t seem to let it go as easily as she had. He finds himself wanting to prove to her that he’s better than that insipid stranger. That he can give her everything she wants without a single issue. That he can deliver everything she needs with expert skill and relentless force, just as she prefers. That he can make her entire body tremble in overstimulation and make every fiber of her being tingle with sheer pleasure, just by gifting her a few adamant snaps of his hips and by muttering a couple filthy promises onto her unfeeling tongue. 

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to make you feel like this, huh, pet?” Harry growls against her swollen lips, plunging his thick length into her and nudging at that sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “Bet he wouldn’t know how to handle you— how to handle that tight cunt and that sharp tongue. Could never take care of you the way I do, isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N rattles her head in her friend’s grasp, releasing fragmented noises of bliss as he hikes her dress further up her ass and gives it another brutal spank. She can feel his rings imprinting across her sweaty skin and she strives off it more than she should. 

Her voice comes out garbled and weak. “N-No one can make me feel as good as you.” 

“Damn straight.” Harry grits out, breaking their prolonged kiss to rest his chin against her damp forehead, looking down at her from over his sharp, tinted cheekbones. “Nobody can fuck you into a begging mess like I can. Whose pretty cunt is this, angel? Who’s the only one who gets to call you their little slut?” 

The electricity crackling around his pupils is borderlining on unhinged, but she adores it. The fact that she can drive him to the brink like that feeds the affinity she has to win his praise. “It’s yours, Harry. Just yours— it’s always just you. You’re the only one. Nobody e-else— fuck, oh my God!”

“You got all dolled up for him, though. Why’s that’s, hm?” Harry’s hold releases from her hair and fumbles down to her throat, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises across her jugular as he grunts lowly with every hellbent ram. “If you didn’t care, why’d you get all pretty, then? Why’d you wear perfume? And why’d you wear that dress— my dress?”

Y/N’s lashes flutter as he refers to her outfit, which is the same one she’d had on the day they had officially established their loose arrangement. Hearing him call it his— hearing him claim it as his own with so much dominant confidence— makes the pit of her belly froth. It is his. Sure, she’d worn it for the sake of looking presentable, but it was only to satisfy the basic rules of what a date entails. In truth, under the excuse of inherent kindness, she’d worn it because she knew Harry would see it afterwards. Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted to please him. 

The girl communicates that to him now in the form of a feathery mumble, staring up at his angered eyes with a moony, innocent aura. “I wore it f-for you.”  

The intense jealousy present in Harry’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows dissipates, replaced by soft awe at her wispy affirmation. He pants as he absorbs the real meaning behind her entire appearance, feeling sparks ignite in his heaving chest. “You...You did it for me?” 

Y/N struggles to swallow in his rough grip, nodding a bit as her fingers tighten around the edge of the chair. “I know you like it and, well…I like making you happy.” 

Harry’s lips part in astonished wonder, though he’s not so sure why her admission had caught him off guard. She’s told him plenty of times that she likes giving him what he wants, but this just feels slightly more personal than anything else she’s ever uttered during an orgasmic stupor. It’s tipping along one of the lines they had sworn not to cross. 

The vampire hadn’t even realized his strokes had tapered to a halt, and apparently neither had she. They’re both too busy looking into each other’s eyes with expressions that neither can decipher. The tense pause only lasts maybe three seconds at most, but it feels like they manage to fit an eternity of uncertain silence within that short time frame. 

Harry cuts through the moment by clearing his throat, intent on changing the subject into something much lighter that will allow them to return to their previous activity. However, the words that rasp out of his raw lips are ones he hadn’t consciously consented to. They come from a sincere nature he’d suppressed for so long, he didn’t think it was possible for it to ever resurface again. “I like making you happy, too.”

Y/N blinks up at him with her usual doe-like air, the corners of her lips twitching fondly at his requited compliment. “I guess we just like making each other happy, then, don’t we?” 

The monster has never been more thankful for her witty personality. It gives him the opportunity to stuff his emotions back into the box they belong, allowing him to regain his typical composure and return her banter without a hitch. He bursts into a round of wheezy giggles, tapping at the hollow of her throat playfully. “I guess so. We’ll add that to the list of things we do to each other, right under ‘excite.’”

The rest of the session goes as usual, thankfully. Some more degrading names are exchanged, positions are switched, hickies are stained on fleshy thighs and damp shoulders, and Harry’s array of rings paint an art piece across Y/N’s backside that he thinks is worthy of the Louvre. His initials are signed on it and everything. 

The pair end up splayed across her trusty old couch, catching their breaths from the heavy exertion they’d just put each other through. Y/N is still in her dress, though it’s rumpled, damp, and the thin straps are hanging off her shoulders limply. Harry is bare, as he always is after sex, per his raunchy preference. However, Y/N had made him cover himself with a blanket in order to keep at least a shred of decency between them. Plus, she’d said she didn’t want his “limp dick brushing against my dress while we cuddle.” 

And that’s what they’re doing now— snuggling on her couch with the human pressed up against the vampire’s side, his arm slung around her shoulders casually as she doodles random shapes across the colored skin of his tummy. She has one leg hooked across his covered hips, which he’s more than happy to allow because he thoroughly enjoys rubbing his palm up and down the back of her thigh; it’s soothing and warm. Y/N entertains herself with nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly as he props his chin atop her temple and pets at her frizzy hair with gentle strokes. It’s a nice moment, full of slowly steadying breaths and the hum of the air vent at the other end of the room. 

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

“I give the chairs a ten out of ten. IKEA really outsold.” 

Y/N slaps her hand down against his naked chest, sputtering into a wave of loud laughter that is unbelievably contagious. “I’m happy you like them ‘cause, uh...they were on clearance. Can’t return them.” 

“You lucked out then, didn’t you? Kudos to your ability to pick out decent furniture.” Harry twirls a strand of her tangled locks around his index finger, giving it a playful tug as a grin dimples his flushed cheeks. “Except for when it comes to wall decor.”

“It’s not my fault you're a stuck-up asshole.” 

“And it’s not my fault you have a knack for cringey drapery depicting ClipArt images.” 

“I’m going to strangle you with one of my tapestries, I really am.”

“Be my guest. At least I won’t have to look at them ever again.” The immortal squeezes her thigh jestingly, his smile widening when she squirms and giggles. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been fucking and I accidentally glanced at it and almost went soft.” 

“But you didn’t.” She reasons, flicking at one of his nipples in revenge and feeling proud when he hisses softly. 

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I could have.” Harry insists stubbornly, reaching up to push a few wet curls out of his tired eyes. “Have you ever had someone go soft inside you? It’s pretty gross. Highly discourage it.”

“Just close your eyes, then.” Y/N states with finality, pinching at his belly button and cackling in satisfaction when he writhes. “You’re real shitty at solving problems, y’know that? You could never be Sherlock.” 

Harry goes quiet for a second and his friend almost looks up to check if he’s alright; he’s too petty to ever back out of anything. But sure enough, his voice comes out a second later, flat and unyielding. “Take down the glorified curtains or I’m never eating you out again.”

“I’ll take down my glorified curtains the day you take down that Stevie Nicks poster on your wall.” 

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

The lovers chat and bicker childishly for a while longer, talking about anything and everything that will keep them entertained. Harry explains to Y/N how his friends had gone on a trip this week (though he makes sure to omit the fact that he had willingly bailed in order to spend time with her) and he’d been alone most of the time. She responds to his story with an incredulous yelp, telling him that he should’ve come over if he wanted some company. She says she would have been more than happy to hang out with him, but he knows she’d been so busy the entire week with work, she probably would have fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It’s the thought that counts, though, so he thanks her for the belated support, either way. 

Y/N talks about a weird customer that had come in and ordered a sandwich with nothing but cucumbers and cheddar cheese on French bread, which she had later recreated to taste-test herself out of curiosity. She can confirm it was abhorrent and the way her nose crinkles with disgust makes Harry snort in endearment. She also tells him about how horribly the date with Jacob had gone, simply because she can tell he’s itching to ask. She recounts everything the young man boasted about, from the annoying college stories to his stupid opinion about clubs. She informs him that she’d never had a more terrible experience in her life and that she wishes she could get that hour of her life back. 

Harry can’t help the way his face lights up at how utterly repulsed she sounds. He knew it. He fucking knew she would never insert herself into a romantic situation with such a comedic punchline of a human being. Hearing her confirm his suspicions is almost as pleasurable as what she can do with her mouth. Almost. 

The vampire finds himself lost in his thoughts, thinking about how much better the whole event would have gone if it had been him instead. How he would have picked her up from her flat by actually getting out of the car and knocking on her door, rather than just sending her a text to come down. How he would have helped her into his car like a proper gentleman, and how he would’ve aided her back out when the time came. How he would enter the restaurant with his palm resting at the dip of her back, guiding the girl towards their seats and pulling out a chair for her. How they’d make conversation as easily as they always do, and how he’d have her laughing between mouthfuls of food, and how he’d expertly flirt her into a fidgety puddle. How he’d reach over the table to get a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and how she’d thank him with that shy smile he’d grown to admire. How he’d wave off her suggestion to split the bill, paying it all himself and smirking as she scolds him for it because she likes being hard-headed and independent. How much fun she would actually have, and how she would probably be willing to go out on a second date.  

Harry’s comment topples out of his mouth before he can rethink it. 

“I bet I could take you out on a better date.” 

Y/N’s head snaps upwards to meet his gaze, eyebrows jumping in utter shock. She hadn’t been expecting that from him at all. Ever. 

She talks between airy spurts of glee. “That was random.” 

Harry doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, his lips don’t even jolt in the slightest. He simply just stares down at her with seriousness decorating his features, long lashes blinking blankly. He doesn’t know what overcame him to make such a bizarre, uncalled for claim, but he can’t take it back now. And he’s not so sure he wants to, honestly. He knows there’s truth to his belief— he could definitely do a better job of wooing her than that Jesse McCartney wannabe. It’s not like it’s hard.

Aside from that, seeing Y/N out with another man had reminded Harry that their little alliance isn’t anything solid— it’s not bulletproof, and he really shouldn’t be taking it for granted. He’d been so cocky and self-assured about himself and what he has to offer, he’d forgotten that there is always the possibility that Y/N might grow tired of him. It may be a microscopic possibility, but it exists, nonetheless. If he wants to keep her interested, he has to up his game a bit, or she might decide that he isn’t worth keeping around. If he wishes to maintain this favorable arrangement where he gets his intimate tendencies tailored and his supernatural necessities sufficed, he needs to give her a more fulfilling reason to stay. 

Good sex is a very convincing factor, sure, but there might come a time in her life when she wants more than just a no-strings-attached affair. There may come a time when she’ll mature out of this stage and seek something sturdier and safe and anchored. There may come a time when she wants a real relationship, and if he doesn’t keep her occupied, that could be sooner rather than later. And it could be with someone else. He doesn’t want this convenience taken away from him— doesn’t want to lose the thing they have going, which keeps him out of annoying clubs, out of random people’s beds, and gives him the best blood he’s tasted in the last twenty decades. It’s too comfortable and satisfying to let go. He has to keep her hooked somehow, and if taking her on a date can assure that this flawless dream remains intact, then he’ll gladly do it. 

Harry licks his lips slowly, measuring out his next words with immense precision. “I’m being serious. I can definitely do better.” 

A million emotions funnel into Y/N’s eyes at once and he can only pick out a select few: confusion, astonishment, fear, denial, and slight unease. There is the chance that the monster may be interpreting all of the human’s feelings incorrectly because, truth be told, he isn’t the best at gauging or handling sentiments. However, there is one he knows he’s not misjudging— it’s the most evident one of all: Excitement. 

“Think about it for a second, yeah?” Harry starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows decisively. “I’ve already gotten in your pants. That means I have no ulterior motive, right?”

Y/N’s own brows kink a smidge. “I...I guess.”

Her friend continues his speech. “Because of that, it means I won’t rush the date, I won’t expect anything from you, and we already get on pretty well, as it is. It’d be a proper good time— a genuine good time.”

The girl’s eyes flicker around different points of his face, trying to make sure he’s not pulling some type of cruel prank. Her tone comes out hesitant and slow. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Harry squeezes the back of her thigh reassuringly. “It’s all in mathematics, love; everything adds up. It’s truly an ideal situation, if you ask me. Practically utopian.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath, letting it out shakily. This is all so sudden and unexpected, she feels like Harry might burst into laughter any minute and reveal it’s all just a big joke. It’s just not them. It’s out of bound— it scribbles outside the box drawn around their whole dynamic. They were never meant to date, they were just meant to sleep together; they were meant to provide each other with the satisfaction that comes from a real relationship, without all the trials and tribulations. Harry asking her on a date blurs those sacred boundaries in a way she’s not sure she’s ready to face. It could mess everything up. It could not only ruin the fun little arrangement they have going, but it could potentially destroy their entire friendship. Harry is the only person she’s truly connected with since she moved to Los Angeles and risking that bond on an impulsive decision...That’s something she doesn’t think she can afford to do. She can’t survive her new life on her own. This is just too dangerous. Way too dangerous. 

But then again...it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it before. She will admit, there have been instances where she’s pictured her and Harry becoming more than just warm bodies to each other. The two days she spent over at his house the weekend prior had solidified those fantasies and made them more frequent. They just click so well, she knows for a fact they’d make a great team. It’d be like dating a best friend, in a way. They fit one another in a manner she didn’t think was possible, and despite the fact they’ve only been acquainted for just over a month and a half, it feels like they’ve been friends for years. She feels like these types of connections are rare to create and she finds herself wishing it could develop into more. 

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

Y/N tunes back into reality, gazing up at Harry with reluctant eyes. She’s surprised to find his are full of confident clarity, as if he’s already sold on the idea and had begun planning their outing. He’s simply awaiting her response at this point, thumbing over her knee gently while tucking her hair behind her ear, lips poised into that lopsided simper that makes her heart skip and her nerves glitch. How could she possibly find it in herself to say no to him? 

The mortal clears her throat lightly, gnawing into her cheek as she speaks her next words with airy humor. “So is that your official way of asking me out? ‘Cause if so, that’s not enough. You’re gonna have to do better, love.”

Harry hesitates for a split second, but it’s so fast, his friend doesn’t even take notice. He prays he doesn’t grow to regret this decision. 

The boy nods, pursing his mouth into a small smile. 

“I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you? Must be the AC.” 

Harry rolls his eyes grandly at the stolen joke, which is identical to one he had made two weeks ago when he’d come over for their usual adult pastime and had brought a special toy in tow. 

His mood comes out theatrical, accent heavily exaggerated. “Dear fair maiden, would you be so kind as to do me the impeccable honor of allowing me to bask in your presence by attending a luncheon with me, preferably sometime in the near future? Thank you so much for your consideration. Sincerely signed...” The creature takes a pause, proceeding to sing his next words to the tune of a song they are both familiar with, given their interest in the Hamilton play. “Your Obedient Servant, H dot Styles.” 

Y/N explodes into a series of giggles, shaking her head as she reaches up to peck at his grinning lips. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

[immortalwanderers]

DISCORD EVENT: NOVEL GROUP READING

Immortal Wanderers is happy to announce a new kind of event coming soon, one which has been suggested by members of our own discord community: a group reading of both Qi Ye and Tian Ya Ke, the two original novels written by Priest!

Unlike our monthly spotlight events, this one is quite different in how it will be held. Due to the length of both novels this will be a much longer event, and will primarily take place within the Immortal Wanderers discord server. Each week will be an opportunity to kick back, relax and read a few chapters, and then afterwards talk with others who have done the same thing!

This event is an opportunity for people to both reread a series of novels that may already be a firm favourite for them, or for those who have not yet read them to finally have a chance to do so surrounded by other fans and friends. 

THE DETAILS

Much of the full details will be decided by the community as a whole through the discord server, but the important things to note are as follows:

This event will begin on the 24th of January. From that point, each week we will alternating between the two novels, reading a few chapters of each. There will be spaces on our discord hub for discussions. To better illustrate what this means in terms of a rough time table: Week beginning the 24th January opens this event by setting the goal of reading three chapters of Qi Ye.  Week beginning the 31st of January will see the group reading three chapters of Tian Ya Ke. Week beginning the 7th of February will see the group returning to Qi Ye, and reading the next three chapters from where the group stopped.  The decision for this is to act as a test run and give those involved ample time to read the chapters, as well as allowing more time for discussions. It also allows people a chance to read both novels, which is nice!

This is intended as a relaxed and fun filled event. If people wish to join and only read one of the novels, they can! If people wish to join and read both novels with the group, fantastic! There is no pressure, and if people are itching to read further than the assigned chapter count that week, they can! They just have to remember that current discussions will be focused on what that weeks chapter goals are. 

HOW CAN YOU CAN GET INVOLVED?

If you’re interested in joining our future group reading sessions, please ask us for an invite code to our private discord group.

Group feedback during this event is welcome, as this will be something that we hope to grow and adapt around how our community feels as we move forward with it. 

Is this event doesn’t seem like quite the one for you - don’t worry! We still have our monthly spotlight events happening here on tumblr and over on twitter also, which are open to anyone to share content of any kind for.

[chilly-me-softly]

Lifespan • Mason Mount

Warning: mention of death, other than that I hope you like it x

-

When you started to think that something was wrong, that you were different from everyone else, you were afraid. Whenever you were on the verge of talking to someone about it, you simply couldn't; the fear of being seen as crazy or not being believed was always in the forefront of your mind.

It all started when you turned twenty-one, before that you had never had a chance to believe that something was wrong with you. Your sister had just become a mother and everyone in the family was so happy with the new arrival, including you, that you went to see them with your hands full of presents as soon as you could.

That little bundle was so small and defenceless, in his cradle carefree and ready to live all the life he had ahead of him. You took him in your arms, careful not to be too rough, cuddling him for a while, captivated by that little miracle and swearing to yourself that you would do anything to be an example to him.

Something shiny on his leg had caught your attention, a series of numbers running backwards like a countdown had you raising an eyebrow in confusion. 89:54:12...11...10...09... you had brushed it tentatively but nothing happened.

"You're all right (Y/N)? Is something wrong?" the new mother had asked, seeing you focused on looking at her son's skin and knowing how you were always looking for the smallest details.

Looking up at your sister and back down at the little leg, it was all gone. Just as it had appeared it was gone and you shake your head, "Nah don't worry about it. I'm just still in shock from this beauty"

Over the next few days that episode buzzed around in your head annoyingly, you were curious wanting to find out what it was but at the same time it scared you. What if it was a curse rather than a good thing? Several times you had gone back to visit your nephew and each time the number was different, lower. And you found you could only see it once a day, the sign disappearing just as it appeared. At its own pace. You could only see it on the side of the left leg, it was hard to see when covered up and you couldn't see it on yourself.

That thought now took up all your spare time, you had even researched it on the internet but had not been very lucky. You had found out what it was at your own expense.

You had errands to run that day and got up early, it was a nice day and you thought you'd leave the car in the garage and go for a nice walk. You look down at your phone as you wait for the pedestrian light to turn green and as you do so you realise your shoe is untied. You lean down to fix it and a sparkle draws your attention to your right, a little girl apparently alone with a backpack bigger than her on her shoulders is waiting beside you. 00:00:06 is written on her leg.

The light turns green and lots of people start walking quickly before getting stuck in the red light again. You hurry walking but when people start shouting to be careful you instinctively grab that little girl by her backpack pulling her to you avoiding an accident, a truck that didn't even stop.

"Thank you, ma'am"

"Oh my god are you alright?" you murmur shocked walking the child to the other side of the pavement safely as she nods and then goes on her way, you following her with your eyes. Until she collapses to the ground and you swear your heart skipped a beat as your legs start running towards her, 00:00:00 in red on her leg.

-

Mason immediately notices something is wrong with you as soon as he opens the door, your expression blank and your face almost colourless. He immediately wraps you in a hug closing the door gently and your grip tightens when he would like to pull away to look you in the eye.

"What's going on (Y/N)?" he asks worriedly, stroking your hair as you shake your head, you held on as you tried to resuscitate that little girl in vain; as they loaded her into the ambulance with the sheet on her tiny body and even as you answered the police's questions. And you're literally exhausted, tears start to roll down your cheeks as Mason forces you to look at him, laying his hands on your cheeks gently but firmly. "You're worrying me"

"There was an accident today" you murmur with a broken voice and he takes a step back to look at you entirely and make sure with his eyes that nothing is out of place. He pulls you to his chest again as he tries to get you to move towards the couch.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks softly not wanting to push you, you sit by his side leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. Your tongue goes to stop a tear that is falling down powerfully at that moment.

"There was a little girl" you tremble at the mere memory, "she was maybe twelve. And we were... there was a red light and then we crossed and she was alive"

"Oh babe" he sighs stroking your back, watching you shake your head.

"No Mase, she was alive on the other side of the road. Then... then she fell to the ground and-" a sob shakes your body as he looks at you helplessly.

"I knew it"

"What? Babe it was a random accident, you couldn't have known"

"I knew it Mason! I knew something was going to happen but I thought that having saved her from the truck she was going to be saved and instead..."

"What are you saying (Y/N)?"

"Mason, I'm losing my mind" you look at him genuinely scared and he wastes no time in wrapping you around himself again. "You just went through a traumatic event, it's normal for you to feel upset honey"

"No I- I need to tell you something" you sit up properly not breaking eye contact, watching him swallow but waiting for you to continue. And you tell him everything from the beginning trying to be as accurate as possible, from the birth of your nephew to the shiny writing on his leg; the research and testing to find out more and more every day, to that day when you really realised what it was by learning that you can't change fate.

"What's the point if I can't do anything to change it?" is the first thing you ask to a silent Mason, trying to absorb that strong informations all at once. And you can't blame him if he doesn't want to believe you, I mean it's kind of surreal, isn't it?

"You can see the date of people's deaths?"

"Apparently. But please call it a person's lifespan instead" he nods, his hand touching your knee to make you feel his presence and his thumb stroking you gently.

"Wow all this is just... wow. I wonder if there are more of you out there"

"You believe me?" you're on the verge of tears again as he smiles softly.

"Why wouldn't I, you have magic" he manages to make you laugh in spite of everything, a tear escaping your control but you promptly wipe it away.

"How does it work? Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, "I don't feel anything, just this light which is then replaced by numbers... I should have realised sooner" your gaze ending on Mason's legs who is thankfully wearing long trousers, no more numbers for today.

He follows your gaze, "Have you seen mine?" the question pops up and you quickly shake your head closing your eyes. "I can't see it if you've got it covered and I don't want to please"

"No hey it's okay, it's okay" slowly he pulls you with him until you're lying on the couch, you sigh settling yourself better in his arms focusing on his beating heart and nothing more.

"Have you tried searching on the internet?" you nod, "Yeah but I haven't found that much"

"Yeah but maybe now that you know what it's for you can look more properly"

"Some other time. I can't do it now"

"We'll do it together when you want to" he leaves a kiss on your temple as you give him a first sweet smile after all those tears.

-

Having someone to share all this with turned out to be a godsend. Just as he had said, since the accident Mason had been with you through everything and you had almost moved in with him.

You would have liked to say that you had learned to live with it, but the truth was that since that day you had been so afraid it might happen again that you no longer looked down. Mason had researched it for you, urging you to try this and that, sometimes much more excited about discovering new things about it than you were. But at the same time he'd also given you your space to decide how to deal with it all and you'd simply decided not to deal with it; not being able to do anything to avoid the inevitable had stopped you from studying how to live with it.

Your phone vibrates and Mason's name appears on the screen after a moment, your smile disappearing little by little as you accept the call. Hearing his voice calms you a little, but that doesn't mean you don't feel your heart in your throat when he tells you that he's in the hospital and that he and Declan were in an accident.

He needs you and you don't think twice about getting in the car and driving to him, phone to your ear as your eyes work further than your legs to try and find him as quickly as possible. And when you do, the relief is so intense that you hold him tightly to you as he groans slightly.

"How are you? Declan?"

"Just a few scratches. He was unconscious when they took him away" Mason sits back in the chair and you at his side stroking his back as you let him run through what happened with his mind, holding him in your arms when he breaks down just like he did to you when you needed him.

"(Y/N) I need you to do something for me" you don't need to make him continue any further to understand what's going through his head.

"No Mason" you shake your head seriously, "don't make me do that"

"Please (Y/N), I need to know" he murmurs looking into your eyes.

"Why? Even if it was you couldn't do anything so why would you want to know?"

"I'd like to make sure he's going to be okay and because I could be around if him..." his breath dies in his throat at the very thought.

"I can't" and you try to stop him as he shakes his head walking away to get some air, putting a glass divider between you and him.

Your gaze drifts from him to the door where nurses come in and out, your leg shaking rhythmically. You don't want to be the one to tell him that news, it would destroy him. But then why does it have to be bad news? Yeah, but what if it is?

You look at Mason one last time before getting up, your mind not even registering what you ask the nurse in the hallway; her sweet smile leading you past the room you seek.

"I'll only stay a couple of minutes, thank you very much" the nurse walks away and you watch your friend from a distance, still undecided as to whether that's the right thing to do. Silently you step into the room moving closer until you're beside the bed, Declan has a few scratches on his face and an injured shoulder at first glance but the fact that he's been unconscious for so long doesn't give the doctors the green light to dismiss him at the moment.

His legs are covered by a sheet and for a moment you think it's a sign. Your hand freezing in mid-air on the first try. And then the glow starting to appear even from under the sheet, your hand moving on its own to uncover his leg and your eyes closing at that light more brightly than usual. Your heartbeat the only thing you can hear for a moment until you open your eyes. A few tears escape your control as you pull the sheet down as if you got burned, your hand going to cover your mouth as you hurry out of that room.

"Oh (Y/N) what have you done?" you almost clash with Mason and he's quick to wrap his arms around you as you try to pull yourself together. When he hadn't seen you where he'd left you once he'd gotten back, he'd known immediately and the guilt had hit him hard.

He shouldn't have asked you, not knowing the emotional effort you have to put into all that. Declan was going to be fine and even though his fate may be another, knowing that beforehand wouldn't have changed anything; he'd be by his friend's side no matter what and putting you in that position...

"It's okay, I had to do it. If I can't use it to calm those I love, then when?"

"So...?"

"I can't know what's next for him but Declan still has a long life ahead of him" despite everything it's a relief to hear and the boy cheers slightly, his gaze inevitably shifting to his bed visible from outside.

And maybe that's what it's used for, knowing to be able to spend most of our time with someone we love; no regrets.

"Go to him" Mason leaves a kiss on your lips before going to sit next to his friend. A solid 62:03:20 runs down his leg.

[michaelbjorkwrites]

The Progressive Outline — How I balance my plotter and pantser tendencies.

When I first started writing at 13, I was a pantser. I'd develop an initial concept for a story, then just write -- making everything up as I went.

Within a year or so, I became a plotter. I wrote extensive character sheets, deeply developed the worlds of my stories, and wrote detailed outlines that spanned not just the current novel, but series-long arcs.

In the years that followed (high school, college, MFA), I oscillated between the two approaches, navigating the benefits and challenges of both, as well as my own evolving preferences -- before settling on my current method.

I call it "progressive outlining," and it helps me do two somewhat conflicting things:

Create an outline for structure and direction

Allow my characters the freedom to organically grow, surprise me, and influence the story

The Progressive Outline

There are three parts to my outlining process:

Initial preparation

Creating a rough outline

Incremental journeys

1. Initial Preparation

Here, I do my initial brainstorming. Starting with the original concept, I generate ideas for the setting, characters, motivations, plot points, magic systems, etc. You can spend as much time as you want in this stage, but for me, the most important things to firmly establish are:

Your main character (and what drives them emotionally)

A small, initial cast of characters

Any core magic or sci-fi elements

The opening setting of your story

Those four things are important, because they're the foundation of the story -- the launchpad, both for the writing and the outline.

2. Creating a Rough Outline

Next, I create a rough outline of the story, and I really do mean "rough." Instead of detailing every beat of the story from beginning to end, I allow the outline to become increasingly broad and vague the further out it goes.

For example, let's say my story is made up of three parts. The most detailed section in the outline would be Part 1; Part 2 would be pretty broad; and Part 3 would have just a few high-level bullet points.

In all those sections, however, I try to mark key turning points for the characters and the plot, even if I don't know exactly what will happen. For example, I might say, "Our characters clash at the festival," or, “A friend will somehow betray the main character’s trust, hurting their relationship."

The point of this outline is to provide long-view guidance wherever I am in the story. However, I keep things relatively vague, because I like to delay making specific decisions until my characters are closer to each event.

3. Incremental Journeys

Now the fun part. Writing.

To start, I take my rough outline and make sure the first couple sections are nicely fleshed out. Then, considering everything I learned during my initial preparation and using my outline as a general (but not set-in-stone) guide, I write those first few chapters.

After finishing those chapters, I do three things:

I think about what I've learned about the characters and story so far.

Using what I've learned, I flesh out the next few chapters in the outline, which might include some further world building or character development.

I write the newly outlined chapters.

Then I repeat those three steps, again and again -- progressively outlining and writing my way through the story in short, incremental journeys.

Why do I write this way?

As I said at the beginning, this approach gives me the structure and direction of an outline, without denying my characters the freedom to grow and surprise me. 

That's why I write this way -- outlining, yes, but leaving much of the outline initially broad and vague so that I can let my characters play a more active role in shaping how each plot point comes to life. The process is pretty similar to Flashlight Outlining, if any of you are familiar; the main difference, as far as I can see, is that I also maintain an overarching outline.

Should you write this way?

You'd know better than me! A key part of every writer's development is figuring out their process, and we do that by writing and experimenting. So give this outlining process a shot if you're dissatisfied with your current process or want to try an approach that draws from both plotters and pantsers.

And if you already love your process?

Please share it below! I'd love to hear how you write (with or without an outline) and why it works for you.

— — —

Hey there! My name’s Mike, and I’m a writer and copywriter with an MFA in fiction. For more tips on how to hone your craft and nurture meaningful stories, follow my blog.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

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