#will i ever afford something more effective than free medicine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 26.4k

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, thank you!

My pleasure.

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

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

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

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

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It happens Thursday on two occasions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to regret that.

Pinky promise?

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What...What are these?”

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

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

Then it all clicks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just...it’s like…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it fucking worked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, I can’t hold—”

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

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

“Do I make myself clear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?”

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

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

“Mm-mm. What?”

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

He feels her heartbeat trip.

“And you know what I do to brats?”

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

“I fuck them until they break.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win.

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms.

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.”

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.”

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside.

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face.

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours).

“You drool in your sleep.”

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?”

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep.

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit.

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips.

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.”

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it.

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.”

“Truly. His dad was hotter.”

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.”

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.”

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.”

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession.

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike.

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.”

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.”

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak.

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons.

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass.

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end.

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting.

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.”

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name.

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.”

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?”

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?”

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.”

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.”

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.”

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.”

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.”

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.”

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips.

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that.

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.”

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.”

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil.

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.”

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before.

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?”

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.”

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.”

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know.

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave.

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.”

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.”

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again.

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.”

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.”

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?”

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now.

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.”

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop.

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head.

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue.

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?”

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.”

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers.

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out.

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips.

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.”

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?”

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.”

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it.

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck.

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before.

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.”

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.”

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.”

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Whatever.”

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.”

“Wow. I feel used.”

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!”

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.”

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.”

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.”

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.”

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow.

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?”

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.”

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.”

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?”

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.”

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance.

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.”

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.”

“Oh, like you’re any better?”

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.”

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house.

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally.

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so.

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece.

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did.

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link.

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings.

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom.

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise.

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.”

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead.

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that.

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily.

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video.

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect.

“Uber for Y/N?”

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.”

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.”

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.”

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her.

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place.

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago.

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.”

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science.

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement.

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.”

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person.

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger.

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.”

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?”

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.”

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even.

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time.

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism.

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.”

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way.

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her.

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons.

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist.

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind.

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.”

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter.

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip.

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction.

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant.

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin.

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.”

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises.

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?”

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.”

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.”

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten.

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils.

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth.

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones.

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest.

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.”

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before.

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left.

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to.

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock.

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.”

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one.

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!”

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.”

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all.

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.”

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.”

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.”

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy.

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core.

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming.

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.”

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.”

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo.

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?”

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before.

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises.

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin.

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture.

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs.

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted.

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs.

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have.

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop.

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him.

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there.

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought.

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding.

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type.

“You like Hamilton?”

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate.

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly.

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth.

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?”

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.”

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.”

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!”

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?”

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.”

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.”

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.”

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?”

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?”

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face.

“Harry, I’m serious—”

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part.

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along.

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room.

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum.

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again.

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.”

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.”

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them.

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did.

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon.

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer.

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.”

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.”

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.”

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would.

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years ago

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5e Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness build (My Little Pony: FIM)

(Artwork by SophiesPlushies on DeviantArt.)

Like, it took me a solid 5 minutes to find the first image in this post and I had to sift through so much softcore porn to find it. I didn’t even find it by searching DeviantArt I had to go on fucking derpibooru oh my lord.

Anyways: here’s another shit brony build because people don’t hate me enough! Well that and I do genuinely love the characters from My Little Pony, and think that they’d be fun to make builds for. But feel free to call me a garbage brony at your leisure.

These are the words of a man who has been beaten down after being a brony for around 10 years.

GOALS

I'm just good with animals - Fluttershy talks to animals. That’s one of the main things she does really.

I'm doing this because you're my very best friend - As the element of kindness we of course need to share our heart and soul with our friends.

Nopony pushes new Fluttershy around! - MLP Wiki makes an express point of mentioning The Stare in Fluttershy’s powers, so of course we’ll do our best to include that.

RACE

Before you say anything no I’m not a pegasi stan just because I did both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. Regardless Aaracokra still makes the most sense for Fluttershy unfortunately because there’s few bird races and fewer flying races.

As an Aaracokra you +2 to Dexterity and +1 to Wisdom which we’ll be keeping because I don’t know if your DM will allow Tasha’s rules. You also get 50 feet of Flight but you can’t be wearing Medium or Heavy Armor to do this, which means I don’t get to say “something something Medium Armor.” And finally you can buck someone to deal damage equal to a d4 plus your Strength; technically their Talons which deal slashing damage but feel free to view them however you want.

If I was to build Fluttershy I’d honestly use the Owlfolk UA race (which will hopefully be out in Wild Beyond the Witchlight and / or Strixhaven) for a multitude of reasons, the most notable of which being the fact that you can fly with Medium armor as an Owlfolk. But the Detect Magic Ritual ability is also nice as is the reaction to stop yourself from falling. Unfortunately Aaracokra technically made more sense since Fluttershy can’t detect magic.

Basically even I have to make choices which are suboptimal in order to ensure maximum roleplay, and even when I play my builds I change them to make them better to play.

ABILITY SCORES

15; WISDOM - You are compassionate and good with animals: both those things are Wisdom skills!

14; DEXTERITY - Since I can’t go “something something medium armor” for this build (yay Aaracokra) I guess getting a 16 in DEX thanks to your race is a good call. If playing an Owlfolk or something you can afford to having 14 total in DEX, as you can then wear medium armor.

13; CONSTITUTION - Look, roleplay stats are great and all but so is not dying.

12; CHARISMA - You are cute small pony... bird... Pony-bird...

10; INTELLIGENCE - Most of your time was spent taking care of animals and most of your knowledge comes from on-hand training as opposed to studying. Basically you’re not Twilight.

8; STRENGTH - As a young filly Rainbow Dash would do most of the heavy lifting for you. As a young mare Rainbow Dash still does most the heavy lifting for you. She is a Barbarian after all!

BACKGROUND

Most ponies know to come to you if their pets are in trouble, and if you’ve ever had pets you know the doctor that helps them is a true Folk Hero. As a Folk Hero you get proficiency in Animal Handling (yay) but I’d swap the Survival proficiency out for Stealth because well... you’re very good at hiding. You also get proficiency with Land Vehicles (most Land Vehicles in D&D are controlled by animals; usually horses! Wait... aren’t you a horse?) and an Artisan’s Tool of your choice: go for Carpenter’s Tools to make some bird houses and chicken coops!

After living in Ponyville for so long most ponies are willing to give you some Rustic Hospitality, giving you a warm place to rest and recover... as long as you can get over your crippling shyness! Eep!

(Artwork by probablyfakeblonde on DeviantArt.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - CLERIC 1

Starting off as a Cleric because I thought Wisdom and Charisma saves were more fitting for Fluttershy, and for the Insight and Medicine skill proficiencies.

As a Cleric you get to choose your subclass at level 1, and there’s nothing you love more than a little bit of Peace and quiet. As a Peace Cleric you get proficiency in Performance thanks to Implement of Peace, for those great MLP song numbers. But more importantly you can call on the power of friendship for an Emboldening Bond!

As an action, you choose a number of friends within 30 feet of you (this can include yourself) equal to your proficiency bonus. Your friendship bonds them together for 10 minutes or until you use this feature again. While any bonded creature is within 30 feet of another they get a d4 they can add to an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw once per turn. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

And finally we can talk about the Spellcasting! You get three cantrips from the Cleric list at level 1: Guidance is always welcome among friends, and Spare the Dying can be a literal life safer! Other than that you are still expected to fight in D&D so take Sacred Flame to defend yourself. You can also prepare a number of spells equal to your Cleric level plus your Wisdom modifier. As a Peace Domain Cleric you can inspire Heroism among your friends, or protect yourself (and hide!) with Sanctuary.

Other than that Healing Word is a staple healing spell (we aren’t taking Cure Wounds right now for reasons but feel free to prepare it), Shield of Faith will let you defend your allies, Protection from Evil and Good will help you invoke the Elements of Harmony against the big bad of the season, and Detect Evil and Good will help you find the Elements of Harmony!

You could also take Bless, but I’m not going to tell you to take Bless because optimizers would crucify me for telling you to double up on d4s.

LEVEL 2 - CLERIC 2

Second level Clerics get their Channel Divinity once per short rest and you have a variety of options to choose from:

Turn Undead will make skeletons and zombies not want to hurt the cute little ponies, which will force them to run away for awhile.

Balm of Peace (the main reason we took the second level in Cleric) will let you run around and heal all your friends for 2d6 plus your Wisdom modifier.

And Harness Divine Power (ty Tasha’s) will let you recover a spell slot, but can only be used a limited amount of times per Long Rest.

You can also prepare another spell and be a little less nice with Command. Telling your enemies to “LOVE” isn’t going to be that effective, but making them grovel or drop works just as fine.

LEVEL 3 - RANGER 1

When you spend enough time around animals you’re automatically either a Ranger or a Druid. Quinn? Never heard of ‘em. Regardless multiclassing into Ranger gives you proficiency in a skill from the Ranger list and it’s good to know about Nature so you can find plants to help your fluffy buddies! Deft Explorer also gives you two language proficiencies (again: pick your poison) and Expertise in a skill. You’ll never guess which skill we’ll be getting... it’s Animal Handling. You’re good with animals.

We actually aren’t going to be taking Favored Foe because we aren’t using weapons for one, but more importantly despite it’s name Favored Enemy is also good for tracking friends! You have advantage on Survival checks to track your favored “enemies”, as well as on Intelligence checks to recall information about them. Go for Beasts to easily find a feathered or fluffy friend! Oh and you also get more languages because I don’t know why, so again pick your poison.

LEVEL 4 - RANGER 2

Second level Rangers get their Fighting Style, or as I like to call it your Helping Style because we’ll be going for Druidic Warrior! You can pick up two cantrips from the Druid list: I opted for Druidcraft (you can grow some flowers for your friends; yay!) and Mending to tend to your cottage.

And of course with cantrips we also get more Spellcasting! You can learn two spells from the Druid list: you’re never not going to want Cure Wounds (which is why we didn’t take it earlier btw) and Animal Friendship is an obvious must.

LEVEL 5 - RANGER 3

Third level Rangers get to choose their Ranger Archetype and we’ll be going for the Gloomsta- Ah you all know it’s going to be Beast Master. You get a Ranger’s Companion not from the PHB but from Tasha’s! The Beast of Land would make the most sense and while it’s probably expected that they be a wolf or something you can pretend that you’re playing Fighting is Magic and have Angel Bunny fight for you! Anyways here’s a crash course on your new fluffy friend:

Their AC is equal to 13 plus your proficiency bonus (currently 16.)

Their health is equal to 5 + five times your Ranger level (currently 20) and they have a number of d8 hit die equal to your Ranger level.

They have a 40 foot movement speed and a 40 foot climbing speed.

You can command it to attack with your bonus action; it has the same hit chance as your spell hit chance (WIS mod + Prof Bonus [currently 6]) and deals a d8 + 2 + prof bonus damage.

If they move at least 20 feet straight toward a target and then hit with an attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 1d6 slashing damage and must make a Strength saving throw against your spell save DC (if they’re a creature.) If they fail they’re knocked prone.

You can command the beast to attack, dash, disengage, or hide with your bonus action.

If you don’t command it they take the dodge action.

You can revive them with a spell of first level or higher 1 hour after they die, and can change your beast after a long rest.

Man, who knew that taking care of a pet was so difficult? Well you also get Primeval Awareness (because Primal Awareness actually doesn’t work that well for this build.) You can use your action and one spell slot to sense the following types of creatures within 1 mile of you: aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead. This lasts for one minute, and doesn’t reveal the creatures’ location or number.

And you learn another spell: Goodberry is good to feed yourself and all your friends! As long as they’re okay with eating berries, of course. C’mon... they’re good for you! Pleeeease?

(Artwork by AssasinMonkey on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 6 - RANGER 4

Finally an Ability Score Improvement... or Feat? We’ll be going for Eldritch Adept, which is admittedly weird but it’s the only way to get Beast Speech so you can Speak with Animals at will! Is total level 6 a little late to finally be able to speak with animals? Yeah, but this is unlimited so it fits better and doesn’t spend your spell slots.

LEVEL 7 - CLERIC 3

Finally back to Cleric land which means finally we can prepare some second level spells! As a Peace domain Cleric you automatically get Aid and Warding Bond prepared, both of which are very good for keeping your friends alive. You can also finally get Hold Person to finally have The Stare!

LEVEL 8 - CLERIC 4

Level 4 in Cleric means another Ability Score Improvement: Wisdom is still your core stat so increasing that by 2 would be your best choice.

You also get another cantrip at this level, and can prepare two more spells! For cantrips I’d recommend Light to see with your dumb bird eyes unless you’re an Owlfolk, and I’d recommend preparing Lesser Restoration and Enhance Ability to further boost your friends.

(Artwork by Koveliana on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 9 - CLERIC 5

5th level Clerics can now Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower with their Channel Divinity. Don’t feel too bad about it; they were big dumb meanies anyways!

You can also prepare third level spells too! As a Peace Domain Cleric you get Beacon of Hope to help with healing, and Spike can send letters out for you with Sending. You can also prepare Dispel Magic in case Twilight needs help with more dangerous spells.

LEVEL 10 - CLERIC 6

6th level Peace Clerics get Protective Bond. When a creature affected by your Emboldening Bond is about to take damage, another bonded creature within 30 feet of the first can use its reaction to teleport to an unoccupied space within 5 feet of the first creature. That creature then takes all the damage instead. It’s worth mentioning that since this specifies “creature” you can actually bond with your beast companion and have it use its reaction, or have others go in to defend angel.

You can also prepare another third level spell like Revivify, so you don’t lose any friends. And to top it off you can use your Channel Divinity twice per short rest! Woohoo!

LEVEL 11 - CLERIC 7

7th level Cleric, 4th level spells. As a Peace Domain Cleric you get Aura of Purity to protect your friends, and Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere to put your enemies in time out. You can also prepare another spell like Freedom of Movement, in case you need to run!

LEVEL 12 - CLERIC 8

8th level Clerics get a variety of features. To start off you get an Ability Score Improvement, which means we can finally cap off your Wisdom for maximum spellcasting! This also means you can prepare more spells, but we’re actually going to hold off on getting more spells for now.

You can also put a little more LOVE into your spells with Potent Spellcasting, adding your Wisdom modifier to the damage of your Cleric cantrips. And finally your Channel Divinity will now Destroy Undead or CR 1 or lower.

LEVEL 13 - CLERIC 9

The reason we held off on getting more Cleric spells last level is because now we get those big 5th level spells! As a Peace Domain Cleric you can help your friends out of any jam with Greater Restoration, and know what they really mean to say thanks to Rary’s Telepathic Bond.

You can also prepare some of those big hitter spells like Mass Cure Wounds to save your friends, and you can cast both Dawn and Summon Celestial to call on Celestia herself! Isn’t that Twilight’s job? Well, it’s still good to have contacts!

(Artwork by CigarsCigarettes on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 14 - RANGER 5

Now that we’ve got all the support we could need for our friends it’s time to return to our roots and focus on Angel! Feel free to focus more on Ranger instead of Cleric if you so desire when building this yourself; I simply opted for more healing instead of damage.

We’re finally 5th level with Ranger which finally means you’ll be getting an Extra Attack!... Which you probably won’t use because you can use cantrips instead. Well it’s still nice to have?

The good thing though is that you can learn more Ranger spells like Healing Spirit, which is a really strong healing spell that was kinda gutted by erratas. But it’s still nice and efficient regardless of what spell slot you casted it at, effectively being a 6d6 heal for a second level spell slot!

LEVEL 15 - RANGER 6

6th level Rangers can now add Roving to their list of skills from Deft Explorer. Your movement speed increases by 5 feet, and you get both a climbing and swimming speed equal to your walking speed. Is total level 15 a little late to get a 30 foot movement speed? Yeah probably, but every little bit helps!

Speaking of another little bit you get another Favored Enemy... I mean friend! ...I don’t know pick whatever you think will be relevant for the campaign. Also yes: you do get more languages, because Ranger.

LEVEL 16 - RANGER 7

7th level Beast Masters have Exceptional Training with their Animal Companion. You can use a bonus action to command the beast to take the Dash, Disengage, or Help action on its turn... which you could already do anyways thanks to Tasha’s.

I’d say that after Tasha’s this feature would work even if you don’t command your beast, but as always discuss the rules with your DM.

Well at least Angel’s attacks count as magical to overcome resistances, which is good because you were probably dealing with nonmagical resistance for awhile now.

You can also prepare another spell like Pass Without Trace, so you and your friends can sneak around unseen. Pass Without Trace is one of those spells that is always useful regardless of what level you are, so picking it up now is still useful!

LEVEL 17 - RANGER 8

8th level Rangers get another Ability Score Improvement. You’ve probably noticed our uneven Constitution score by this point: yeah that was because we were going to grab Resilient Constitution at some point. Increasing your CON gives you a nice +17 to your health and makes your Constitution saves (and concentration saves!) a +8 total.

You’ve also spent so much time on the ground moving through nonmagical difficult terrain costs you no extra movement thanks to Land’s Stride. You can also pass through nonmagical plants without being slowed by them or taking damage from them. Additionally, you have advantage on saving throws against plants that are magically created or manipulated to impede movement. You may be able to fly but that doesn’t mean being able to move on the ground isn’t useful!

(Artwork by AssasinMonkey on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 18 - RANGER 9

9th level Rangers can learn third level spells, and you’ve probably spent enough time training with Rainbow Dash by this point to make a Wind Wall to protect your friends! (Basically the Ranger spell list sucks and we’re only really going down Ranger still for more subclass features.)

LEVEL 19 - RANGER 10

You get a new feature from Deft Explorer at this level: you are now Tireless! As an action you can give yourself a number of temporary hit points equal to 1d8 plus your Wisdom modifier (so 5.) You can use this action a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Additionally whenever you finish a short rest your exhaustion level is decreased by 1.

You’re also a master of avoiding social interaction. Nature’s Veil lets you turn invisible as a Bonus Action until the start of your next turn. You can also use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a Long Rest.

LEVEL 20 - RANGER 11

11th level Beast Masters can invoke Bestial Fury! With 11 level in Ranger and 20 total levels in this build your Animal Companion can now... attack twice! Look Beast Master is playable now, I never said it was good.

At least you can learn one last Ranger spell: in your ultimate stand against darkness Daylight will help you banish the dark! ...Or something. Look again: the Ranger spell list sucks.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

You do not hurt my friends! You got that? - Even with the multiclassing you still get spell slots up to 7th level, and have more than enough magic to shake a stick at. Not to mention that Angel will always be by your side to pump out a bit more damage with your Bonus Action!

You’re the cutest thing ever - Maxed out Wisdom was rather expected from a Cleric, but Expertise in Animal Handling combined with unlimited Beast Speech means that you can easily make friends with any beast you come across! Just make sure your DM is okay with you giving a hydra belly rubs.

Whatever you wanna do is fine... - You’ve got quite a good mix of features that will help you both in and out of combat, meaning that there’s plenty that your friends can rely on you to help with! In fact there’s a lot of things that only you can do as a Ranger which are quite helpful!

CONS

You’re such a loudmouth... - Most of your class resources only come back after a Long Rest, with only your Channel Divinity coming back after a Short Rest. You’re still plenty capable with just Angel by your side but don’t spend everything in one fight, or else you’ll be left with nothing but Sacred Flame and Animal Companion attacks.

Are you coughing because... - So let’s talk about Angel: even with 11 levels in Ranger they’re not great. AC of 19 is pretty good but they’ll probably max out around 60 HP. Your average Wizard will have more HP than this by level 20. Two maul attacks will do decent damage but you could get equal value out of Spiritual Weapon, and you only get the second attack with Angel at total build level 20. And yeah for most of this build Angel is going to be sitting around 25 max HP, meaning they’re likely to go down a lot. Aid can help keep your pets healthy and happy but don’t be upset when your level 4 Ranger companion keeps going down.

Awful, just awful! - We kinda miss the best of both worlds for the sake of a build that’s “in-character.” No 10th level of Cleric means no Divine Intervention (even if it’s only a 10% chance it’s still good to have), and no 12th level of Ranger means no ASIs. One good thing about this build is that it does peak around level 10 or so where the multiclassing doesn’t start to damage it, but if you really expect to run all the way to level 20 I’d sooner play either a straight Ranger or a straight Cleric.

But you’re coming along to share your kindness with everypony around you, and guide your friends to victory! Use your expertise to keep your friends alive while Angel kicks some major tail! Get down and be assertive, but remember not to push yourself too hard. Everypony already loves you for who you are, even if you’re in fact a little shy.

(Artwork by Rodrigues404 on DeviantArt.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #My Little Pony #Friendship is Magic #mlp: fim #brony #dnd ranger #dnd cleric #fluttershy #flutter pony #animals

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blainehellyes · 4 years ago

Text

Hell/Heaven

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Dr.Anika Warren)

Words: 3.5k ..I just..went off w this

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, trauma, swear words??

Author’s Note: Okay yall so idfk what this is tbh. I just had an idea and went on to write 3.5k words about it. This is my interpretation of the aftermath of ch.11. I genuinely don’t know if this makes sense or it’s just a bunch of words slammed together.

Also, I did not really proofread this so please do feel free to point out any mistakes. I’m sorry for the mistakes.

I’m scared of writing people OOC and I’m still learning so please keep it in mind.

Anyway, I did not make it two parts but it’s pretty long so yeah.

Anika’s thoughts will be in italics.

xxxx

It had been almost 16 hours since the combined diagnostics team along with her friends barged into the isolation ward and told her that they had found a cure. Eight hours since Ethan said the magic words

“Get up. There are no traces of the toxin in your body.”

She had been lightheaded, whether it was from happiness or if it was from some weird side effect she didn’t know about was up in the air. She was still a bit wobbly.

In her 29 years of living, Dr.Anika Warren had not had such a whirlwind of a day. 24 hours ago ,she was barging into the senator’s room trying to stop an assassination. She didn’t know how she got caught up in a death trap but after that it was as if her brain had recorded every single moment with perfect accuracy.The whole thing was playing in a loop , the cannister being deployed, Rafael Aveiro, superman and ultimate idiot jumping in to protect her , Danny and Bobby Gunderson’s life leaving his eyes in front of her. She had watched a lot of people pass away in her career, and each one affected her . No matter how much she wanted to get used to it. But this was different, this was a man who was talking to her about how he wanted to afford a car for his daughter’s 16th. Bobby used to greet her with a smile every day, and even with minimal interaction she had gotten close to him.

And now his daughter won’t have a father, much less a car. And it’s because you were dumb enough to jump in to the room before having backup.

She pushed the thoughts away as she wearily walked through Edenbrook’s long corridors.

Most of her friends had returned home in hopes of having some rest, but she couldn’t. Raf was still admitted, albeit not in a coma and she couldn’t just leave him. She didn’t want to leave anyway,trying to get as much done as she could to distract herself. She didn’t want to face her thoughts, which she would eventually have to when she’d go home. But for now, she was delaying the inevitable by trying to help any and every doctor she came across.

“Dr.Warren? Why are you still here?”

Esme. I love her but dear god if one more person tells me to go home I’ll start crying in the middle of the corridor.

“Uhh, I’m just finishing off some work. You should be too , Dr.Ortega. Stop interrogating people and get to work.”

Wow when did I become Ethan? That was one of the most out of character things I’ve ever said. Looks like his personality is seeping into me.

“ Um..Anika? You good? No offense but that really doesn’t sound like you. ”

Well..crap.

“Then what does it sound like, Dr.Ortega?”

“ It sounds like you’re trying to put on a tough person persona to deflect questions”

This girl is way too smart. Am I the only dumb one here with no people skills or…?

“ I just..I just don’t want to go home. And I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t mind”

Please leave me alone please please please

Esme shrugged but the look of concern on her face wasn’t gone. “If that’s what you want then sure. Take care of yourself, I’m not the one who almost died"

With that she turned around and left.

Anika continued to make her way through the hospital. Her mind was racing with the possibilities of what could have happened. She could not stop thinking about how she trusted the senator, but most of all, one thing was repeating in her mind.

So, Ethan Ramsey, are you single?

Ethan looked at me for a brief second

"I’m sorry… But no, I’m not"

He had actually admitted his feelings on national television. Well, almost but the point still stood.

And yet it’s complicated. He’s not single but we’re not dating. What the fuck Ethan Ramsey? We doing Schrodinger dating or what?

This was her hell.

"Dr. Warren?"

This time, she wasn’t annoyed at her name being called. This time, it was more relief than frustration.

"Anika..?” Ethan’s voice hit her once again.

“Um.. Hi” she didn’t know what to say. Her face was flushed from thinking about the moment they shared after the interview, and all the subtle moments that had in the past few months.

“You’re supposed to be home. But Dr.Ortega did mention something about you not wanting to. What is it?"

Ah there it is. Damn you Esme. I mean, no but yes.

"It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it”

She tried to sound as normal and unbothered as she could. She didn’t want to even think about it, much less talk it out which would just make it much more real for her. She wanted to live in denial and pretend everything was normal for a while.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden hold on her wrist. She snapped back into reality to notice that Ethan was pulling her somewhere. It was in the general direction of his office so she presumed that much but couldn’t help protesting the sudden force.

“Wai- Wha- Where are you taking me?!”

The reply only affirmed her presumption.

“To my office, Rookie. You’re clearly not well and you need to rest and if you won’t go home I’ll make sure you rest here.”

Why is this man so stubborn? I love him but why?

They were soon in his sparsely decorated office. Everything was organised with no stray papers or journals lying around which was usually the case with most of the other offices in the hospital. Ethan sat her down on the couch and sat down beside her.

“Wait, I thought you wanted me to rest. What is this Dr.Ramsey? A plot to get me alone with you hmmm..?” She wanted to get alone with him. Ever since the confession the other night and him saying he wasn’t single, she needed some answers.

“No. I just wanted to ask you about why exactly you didn’t want to go home. Dr.Ortega told me you looked disturbed and kind of in a trance and I got worried” Ethan said with worry clearly etched onto his face

Why the hell is he so cute even when he’s worried? I’m so so in love ugh

His palm touched her face , snapping her out of her thoughts yet again. His gentle touch was something she wasn’t yet that used to, and he had been much more gentle and kind since the confession the previous night. He was acting so unlike the Ethan she knew and she had to get used to this.

“Tell me , Anika. What’s wrong? Talk to me. I’m here.”

Memories of the previous few days flooded her all at once. Her poaching the senator from MK, him intruding on the diagnostics team meetings, Travis behaving so normally that she could never in a million years imagine him being such a …. psychopath.

The phone call she overheard, her disappointment on how she trusted a politician who wanted the same things as everyone else.

She was spiralling, and she was spiralling hard. It was hard not to, she was feeling guilty. She wanted to go back and not agree to June’s idea. She wanted to undo the whole thing.

Ethan noticed her face contorting with the painful memories and he immediately took her into his arms and that was all it took for her to start sobbing.

“ I just..I feel guilty Ethan. I shouldn’t have gone to MK, I shouldn’t have followed June’s advice. I shouldn’t have trusted a politician. And most of all I shouldn’t have ran into the room like some kind of a superhero in a Hollywood movie without having proper back up”

Ethan’s face was grim. He understood the guilt over going over to MK and stealing their patient, he had been feeling it too. But he couldn’t understand the other feelings, it would be impossible to. He wanted to comfort her, let her know that she did absolutely nothing wrong but he knew his words wouldn’t matter much.

Ethan’s thoughts were interrupted by more violent sobs, she was breaking in front of him and he couldn’t take it. He hugged her tighter and whispered sweet nothings, trying to tell her that she was only trying to do something good.

“You didn’t do anything wrong Anika, you were doing your duty. You wanted to help. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re here. ”

He wanted to comfort her and never hear her cry again.

Anika on the other hand couldn’t stop. She felt bad, she felt bad when she thought about Danny and Sienna , when she thought about Bobby Gunderson and his daughter. “ Sienna probably hates me.."

Ethan was taken aback by that comment, if he had noticed one thing about Dr.Trinh ,it was that she was someone you could absolutely trust. Her hating Anika was far fetched. ” She won’t, why would she hate you? She was so scared Anika, she was so scared that you would ….“ He couldn’t complete the sentence. He couldn’t even complete the though.

” No, Ethan. Sienna loved Danny. And..and if I hadn’t..if I hadn’t..done something so stupid..he would still be here..they had a future Ethan, they really did..“ and she broke down into another fit of sobs.

Ethan didn’t know what to do. He held her and helped her cry it out. Eventually the exhaustion hit her and she somehow fell asleep. He noticed though,that she had a fever. And was in the process of waking her up gently and giving her some medicine that the door opened.

Naveen Banerji was worried. He was worried about Rafael , the paramedic he had somehow grown close to. He was worried about Ethan , his mentee and his "son”. But most of all, he was worried about Dr.Warren. She had taken the toll of the previous days hard and as soon as he heard that she was acting unusual, he wanted to find her. He couldn’t though and decided that the best way to approach this was to ask Ethan.

He had just opened the door when he saw that Anika was with Ethan in the room, and they both looked very cosy. Ethan was in the process of giving her some kind of medication and he didn’t want to interrupt but it was clear that they had been having a moment. And Anika looked deathly pale and after listening to a concerned Dr.Ortega about how she was a walking zombie and how he should force her to take time off work and seeing it himself, he decided to actually listen to Dr.Ortega and give Anika a week off.

He silently closed the door as he did not want to interrupt and instead paged Ethan to come to his office. He not only wanted Anika to take a few days off work, he wanted Ethan to take care of her. He had never seen Ethan so happy with anybody before and it hurt him to see them push each other away. And if this was a chance for him to push Ethan towards his happiness, he would use it.

Ethan had just finished giving Anika a tablet for her temperature and let her fall asleep again when his pager beeped. He walked briskly to Naveen’s office, curious to know why he called him. It was rare, getting paged by Naveen so he was a bit nervous.

When he had entered and sat down, Naveen wasted no time in getting to the point. “ I’ve heard that Dr.Warren has been showing some trauma symptoms lately, and she has gone through a lot so I want to give her a week off” he said.

Ethan was happy, he wanted this to happen but he was confused as to why the chief had told him this .

“ Before you ask me why and how this concerns you, I want you to know that I want you to take care of her in this one week. And hence , I am giving you a whole week off too” Naveen finished with a smile on his face.

Ethan was surprised. He wanted to spend time with her, especially after his late night revelations. But taking a whole week off work was out of question. The diagnostics team would be two members down and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Naveen, that simply isn’t feasible. It’s already hard with a nurse down and a doctor down and me going would make it all the more difficult for the team.”

Naveen cut him off, he didn’t want to hear it

“ Son, just listen to me this time. I’ll take over the diagnostics team myself for the week and the workload can be handled. I want you both to take a while off and figure things out and that’s all I’ll say. Nothing you say will change this decision.”

Ethan didn’t have the heart to protest. Even though he was worried about how the team would function without two members, the fact that Naveen would take over eased him.

Besides that, he really did want to forget the world for a bit and just hold her in his arms. The endeavour the previous day had shown him how much he cared and after that , he couldn’t keep her away. He almost lost her, and in those few hours where he had to put up a brave façade for the hospital while he was breaking inside were the worst few hours in his entire life.

He didn’t know what he would do without her, just the thought of not having her jab at him randomly, do weird things just to annoy him and all of her little quirks which frustrated him to no end in the beginning which he had grown to love killed him. He needed her.

He walked through the hospital to his office to find her awake and scrolling through her phone. This comforted him a bit as she looked tranquil and didn’t have the worry on her face like earlier.

He entered the room and her face immediately lit up. This was something he would never tire of seeing , her smile. It made him feel all excited and warm.

“ Ethan! I was waiting for you!” She chirped. He loved her voice and it automatically brought an easy smile onto his face.

He sat down beside her , absentmindedly stroking her hand and started speaking.

“ Naveen has ordered both of us to take a whole week off. He wouldn’t listen to anything. " He said with a bemused smirk on his face. This whole idea of Naveen, was amusing to him. It was such an obvious attempt at getting them together that he couldn’t help but laugh at it.

” Wait what? What about the diagnostics team?! They can’t function with two members down. I mean they can but what if we get an important case?! What about my patients? What about your patients? This simply won’t-“

Ethan cut her off with a kiss. He wanted to do that for so long and looking at her get so worked up about the hospital was too cute for him to control himself.

” Oh my ,Dr.Ramsey, so forward of you. I didn’t think someone like you could do something so scandalous" Anika chuckled between kisses and Ethan was too absorbed to even take offense to the statement.

Eventually, they got up and made their way to Ethan’s apartment. Anika had to inform her flatmates , everyone looking at her with raised eyebrows except Sienna , who she couldn’t look in the eyes. She also made sure to check up on Raf and Kyra, and shed a few tears looking at them. She was glad that both of them were alright because she wouldn’t forgive herself if anything happened to anyone.

Ethan’s apartment was as she remembered, clean and monochromatic. At this point, she had visited enough for her to just walk straight in and start playing with Jenner without any hesitation. Ethan loved seeing her like this, in his home , comfortable. He couldn’t help but imagine a future where she would just live there instead of visiting.

After taking a shower ,they started working on dinner. Ethan didn’t want to make her work at all but she was adamant about helping. Watching her move across the kitchen with ease made him happy. But he didn’t forget to make her rest, as she was still weak which was evident when she lost focus suddenly and fainted. Ethan dropped his spatula into the pan and rushed to get her up. She had started to have a rise in her temperature again.

“ You can’t keep doing this Rookie , you’re sick and you’re literally working yourself to exhaustion. Now just take your medicine and relax , okay? I’ll take care of dinner.” He cooed into her ears as he lifted her up and carried her to his bed.

Anika obliged with a pout, not letting him go back without a proper kiss. She wanted him to stay but her stomach rumbling made it obvious that she needed food. And the only source of food was Ethan cooking and she had to let him go.

Her fever had subsided by the time he poked his head into the bedroom telling her that dinner was ready. She had almost fallen asleep, exhaustion taking over her but dinner was important.

I need to talk to him about the interview. And the night before. I need to talk to him about so much.

They had dinner in relative peace, having proper substantial food after all the hospital food she had eaten felt good. They were I’m easy conversation and she didn’t have the heart to bring up the topic of feelings.

He will shut down , and I don’t want him to shut down.

Only when they had completed eating and ended up in bed cuddling could she force herself to ask him.

Just do it Anika. It’s not too hard. He won’t push you away. Trust yourself.

“ Ethan?” She spoke up with a timid voice. In the hospital, she was the person who would talk back when anything was wrong or if anybody did anything questionable, but here she was out of her depth.

“ Yes?” He answered with an inquisitive tone.

“I wanted to ask you about something” she went on. “ Uh..um.. the interview when you said you weren’t single..” she took a deep breath.

Come on , just say it. Why are you so anxious?!

Ethan immediately tensed up a bit. He meant every single word he said, both in the interview and in the night that followed and yet, he didn’t know how to approach this. He was looking at her intently , waiting for her to continue when she started speaking again.

“ Yesterday night, when you talked about how you regretted keeping me away and how you wished you didn’t do it… did you mean it?” She finished, bracing for impact. She was so sure that he’d push her away yet again and they’d have to spend the rest of the week in awkwardness that his next words took her a moment to register.

“ I meant every single word , Anika” he said, bringing her closer to him. He kissed her forehead and continued. “ I meant it. All of it. You are the light in my life, my sunshine. When I saw you behind the glass, covered in that grease , my heart stopped. I had to pick myself up and put on a face for the team but I was breaking into a million pieces. Each time I failed to diagnose what was wrong , I remembered that I could lose you. And that broke me even further. There was nothing I wanted to do more than run into the room and hold you in my hands. I can’t live without you Anika, I don’t want to imagine a life without you. ”

By this point , both of them were in tears. They were hugging each other, tears flowing freely.

“ I was so scared ,Ethan. I just wanted to be in your arms. And I was scared for Raf. When you told me we had lost Danny, I realised I couldn’t lose Raf. And every moment, all I wanted was to be with you. You’re the most important thing in my life , Ethan. And I was so scared to talk to you about this, so scared that you would push me away again.”

Ethan took a sharp breath. Pushing her away after all this was impossible. He hugged her tighter , letting her cry , letting himself cry it out.

“ I won’t push you away. I won’t ever push you away. I’m all in if you are” he said, through tears.

Anika looked at him and could see a vulnerable man. She could see he was scared too, to admit his feelings and to let his walls down and she was determined to never hurt him.

“ I’m all in ,Ethan. Forever. ”

That night was one of the best nights of their lives. They just spent it cuddling and talking to each other about their dreams, their aspirations and themselves.

Ethan hadn’t felt so at ease in years. He was ready to take care of her forever. He had never imagined falling in love but now, he couldn’t imagine not being in love.

And that night , they knew that the next seven days and the rest of their lives would be amazing.

And this, was her heaven.

THANK YOU IF YOU READ TILL HERE.

Tag List? Sort of?

@drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @nooruleman @anonymously-cool @mrsbhandari @kaavyaethanramsey @apphia12 @queencarb @mvalentine @openheart12 @starrystarrytrouble

@crazynutella tagging @oofchoices @ohramsey if yall are interested

xxxx

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan jonah ramsey #mekh tries to write yee #dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey fanfiction #playchoices #open heart second year

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courageouslyfearless · 4 years ago

Text

Dream World (Part 1) ☾ Baekhyun

Genre: Fantasy AU

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

You could hear yelling even through the closed door. You let out a deep sigh. Your parents had never been discreet about their growing hatred towards each other. You're old enough now to not think it's the end of the world but when you were younger, living in that hostile environment almost near killed you. The only reason you were still living with them is because you couldn't afford college and moving out at the same time. So you were working diligently, to graduate as quickly as possible so you could finally get out.

Thinking it's not the end of the world is one thing, being okay with it another thing entirely. You hated it. The yelling, the insults, the violence... all of it. There was a time you'd be trying to stop them. For years, you tried to stop them. Your brothers did as well. You'd all given up at this point. It was exhausting and tolling on your mental health. Last time you tried to intervene, you'd had a panic attack. Like full blown, couldn't breathe, couldn't respond kind of episode. It was horrible. You had realized then, the damage they had done over the years was not only to each other but to the rest of the family as well. Especially you. So now, instead of going out there and getting involved, you walked to the desk on the corner of your room and sat down.

As the screaming got louder outside, you put in your earphones on each side and lost yourself to the music. You smiled as one of your favorite songs played and grabbed your journal from the drawer you kept it in. Your smiled widened as you held it in your hands. Your dream journal. You wrote about a world of fantasies and creatures you'd never get to see. You wrote about places and people you'd never get to meet. It's not a sad thing. This journal and its contents had gotten you through so much. Writing and escaping your reality through these made up worlds are the only reason you were alive today. So you were grateful and excited, every time you got to write yourself out of a bad day or situation. Your words, carefully crafted on the pages, were medicine to your kind of hurt.

Fueled by the wonderful tune playing in your ears, you opened the star covered journal. You flipped through all the written pages and landed on the next blank one. As you reach over your pencil holder to grab your favorite purple pen, something shimmering catches your eye.

"This isn't mine," you think to yourself. You grab the golden pen in your hand to examine it. It was beautiful, adorned with swirly designs engraved into the metal encasing it. You wonder if maybe one of your brothers had been in your room. But that didn't make sense, they'd never buy something like this. Your parents were out of the question as well, they hated your love for writing. They thought you wasted too much time on it. You frowned.

How did it get here?

You looked at it for a few seconds, as if it could tell you where it came from if you stared at it long enough. This of course did not occur. So you shrugged and smiled to yourself. If someone came looking for it you'd give it back, in the mean time, you would love to see how beautiful it could write.

You hovered over the blank page, pen in hand and wrote the first sentence.

The sun was shinning brilliantly, warming up her face as the brisk air of autumn played with her hair.

The ink of the pen was a glittery gold. You loved the ethereal glow it gave to you words. With a smile, you continued adding more details on the page. You'd been writing this particular story for months now. With you as the classic protagonist in a mythical world of fantasy and wonder, torn between your duty to your kingdom as princess of Akron and your growing affections towards a mysterious peasant. You wrote for hours. You were so immersed in your fictional world, that when you finally stopped jotting down words, you noted the ache on your wrist. You sat back on your chair, trying to shake off the daze of coming back to reality.

With a glance at your window, you are surprised to realize, night had fallen over the real world. Your stomach grumbled of its need for food and as you couldn't hear your parents fighting anymore, you knew it was safe to find something to eat.

That night you decided to go to sleep earlier. Fridays had a way of feeling more exhausting than any other day. Maybe the week was the real culprit and the effects were simply felt on Friday, but nonetheless, you felt tired down to your soul. So by nine o'clock, you were already under the covers, closing you eyes for some much needed rest.

Without being able to stop it, you thought of your world, waiting beyond the ink of that golden pen you'd found, smiling as you remembered what you had written that day. With this in mind, you drifted off into a deep slumber. This time you're lucky and get to visit your dream world, the one that left you breathless when you wrote. It didn't happen often, but you had dreamed it before. Though this time it felt more vivid.

You opened your eyes, rays of sunlight making it difficult to keep your eyes open. You use your hand to protect you eyes from the sun and are surprised to find yourself in the balcony of a tall and magnificent castle. On the horizon, you see fields of green and the spot where it meets the Great Lake of Ohena. Past that, the homes of your people. The lands stretch even farther than your eyes can see.

"The Kingdom of Akron," you whisper. You are vaguely aware that this is a dream. You'd always had the ability to tell, but the sliver of recognition escapes you as another voice joins you.

"Your Kingdom, your majesty."

You turn around at his voice, the usual racing of your heart making it hard to respond. He's standing there, in your chambers, dressed in ragged clothes, worn out from use and still, you find it difficult to draw a breath. He's as handsome as ever, his features carved in what must be perfect precision.

Oblivious to the struggle within you at his presence, he approaches you, confident in his stride. Confidence that was so rare and out of character for a peasant, that it still surprised you.

"Baekhyun." His name comes out as a breath and this stops him from advancing towards you, stopping two feet away.

He looks at you, pushing a lock of brown hair out of his eyes so he can study you better.

"Princess."

That word alone shakes you to the core. It was illogical. To feel this way when he called you by what was the title given to you by birth right, yet, you couldn't help it. Because when he said it, he wasn't looking at you like his master or future queen. Instead, his eyes were full of emotions. Love. Yearning. But also apprehension and conflict. Almost like he was battling with himself. The same way you did when he was around you.

"I don't remember calling for you," you manage to sound indifferent, even though you know your eyes would tell a different story. A story he had read many times before.

Baekhyun smiles at your theatrics and takes another step forward, closing the little space that was left between the two of you. Now he stands in front of you and stares at you with a glint of humor dancing in his eyes.

"I came out of my own accord, princess."

You force yourself to roll your eyes and start to turn around to look at the view once again, anything to avoid his knowing gaze. But as you do that, his hand catches the curve of your waist and grips firmly enough to bring you back closer to him.

Startled, your eyes widen.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

His hand on your waist moves to the middle of your back and pushes you into him, your body gently collapsing into his. He looks down at you, his bewitching brown eyes holding yours in a spell you don't have the strength to break. Not that you would even if you could.

He lifts his free hand up to your face and a finger traces the the line of your jaw, then touches your lips . "You haven't visited in a while... I missed you."

Once again you remember it's a dream and sigh audibly. As you had created him, he knew everything there was to know about you. There was no secret that you could hide, no thoughts you couldn't share. He knew you like no one else did, because he was a part of you, of your subconscious. A character shaped into being by your own mind.

"Your parents again?" he asked.

You shift your gaze to look at his chest, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. But he doesn't have to. Because he knows your pain as if it were his own. He wraps his arms around you, forcing your small figure to mold into his by embracing you tightly against him, burying his face on the space where you neck meets your shoulder. You let him hold you for a minute, because his arms were the safest place you knew.

Eventually, you feel the soft touch of his lips as he places a kiss on the crook of your neck before he slowly starts to pull away, but only enough to look at you in the face.

"You should just stay here, with me." He finally says.

You smile, sadness tugging at the corners of your mouth even as you tried to push it away.

"You're not real, Baekhyun. I created you. This is just a dream. A fantasy. Based on words that I wrote so I could escape my reality." You say this with a sense of urgency. You're fully aware that you're trying to remind yourself of the truth. To not lose your senses in this wonderful but unrealistic dream.

Baekhyun smiles, his features becoming more charming and childlike.

"But you wish it was real, princess," he cups your face with both hands, inching closer, until you could feel his breath on your skin. "And so do I."

You tell yourself your mind was a very messed up and twisted thing, playing these kinds of games with you. But when his lips touch yours, it doesn't feel like a dream. It doesn't feel fake. It's easy to forget your reality when he kisses you, because you can sense his feelings, that mirror your own and you can taste him in your mouth as his tongue dances with yours. This is the most lucid dream you've ever had, you noted. The details aren't usually this elaborate. Usually, the corners of your vision appear clouded, like that of a watercolor painting with no clear edges. But everything was overwhelmingly real, even his unmistakable desire for you.

Desire that you felt yourself for him and he knew it, which is why he knew he could get away with such apparent displays of affection towards you without fearing any kind of consequences. So he continued to kiss you. So carefully and unhurried. Like there was all the time in the world to do it. Like there is nothing that he'd rather be doing than showing you how perfectly his mouth fit to yours. Conveying his true feelings in the best way he knew how. And you want to stop him, tell him he can't keep doing this but as soon as the thought comes to you, he deepens the kiss, making you forget why you would ever try to stop him from kissing you. You lose yourself in him and he loses himself in you. Until a knock rattles the door.

Baekhyun groans as you pull yourself out of the magic that he had conjured up to keep you connected to him and step away from his embrace as well. Suddenly recollecting time and place. Your character was the princess of Akron and as such, you had duties to attend to.

Someone knocks on the door again.

You let out a shaky breath, eyes still locked on Baekhyun's as you smooth out the emerald green satin gown that you were wearing.

"Please don't. Let's just stay here," his eyes are pleading too.

But you had almost forgotten where you were, his pull on you had become too strong for you to trust it. Thankfully, your brain had a subconscious defense mechanism that had pulled you out of the spell he seemed to have on you.

"I have things to take care of," you reply softly, before raising your voice, "Come in."

Before the door opens, Baekhyun quickly speaks, "I have something to tell you."

You look at him in question, but when the door opens and a guard steps in, he keeps quiet.

The guard bows at you before talking. "The Queen is requesting your presence at court."

You nod your understanding and he steps back into the hallway. You start walking towards the door and Baekhyun follows closely behind you.

"What's happened since the last time I was here?" you ask.

He sighs, "The Queen caught the bandit that stole the royal staff. It was an elf horseman."

You turn to him, alarm in your face, "A nobleman?!"

He only nods in response.

"Why would the elf people do this? They've got nothing to gain from stealing from us. Plus the staff's magic only works with the person of its choosing and it hasn't chosen anyone in almost 70 years." You contemplate the possibilities as you resume your walking. You hadn't written this far ahead in your story, you didn't know what was about to happen. The thought worried you.

Baekhyun was unusually quiet and you look at him for answers.

"I don't know, my lady. Maybe they're tired of being banished from the kingdom. The Queen's rulings tends to be cruel and unfair."

You manage to not agree but barely. You knew he was right, but as the princess the last thing you could do was question the Queen's motives, especially in front of any of her subjects.

"It has to be the elf prince's doing," you muse, "he's the only one with enough authority to make someone commit treason against us."

You don't have time to continue the conversation as you finally are escorted inside the court. As soon as you walk in through the doors, you lose Baekhyun in the crowd as you walk as gracefully as you can down the aisle that leads to the Queen's throne and your own seat, besides her.

The expression on her face is impassive. She doesn't like to be kept waiting, you knew. You'd hear about this later.

With you sitting, the trial quickly commenced.

You saw the elf man being brought in by two knights, each pulling at him from each arm. His face was full of cuts and bruises, his clothes bloodied and tattered. He has been tortured, you realize. Probably to get information out of him. The look on his eyes was not one of a broken man though, so you knew they got nothing out of him.

Contrary to belief, elves didn't look that much different than us humans, their skin was pale as snow and they wore beautiful faces that begged you to trust them. But that's about it. In every other way, they looked just like us. If anything, their magic was something we should fear. But the Queen refused to acknowledge the existence of magic outside of the kingdom and anyone who threatened her beliefs, well, they met the true death. Decapitation and fire, to cleanse the world of their "evil".

As the crowd settled down, the Queen spoke. You looked at her from your seat. She was as beautiful as she was stubborn, you noticed. Her features delicate but the expression on her face was hard, calculating. Green eyes to match with the Kingdom's crest hanging in any wall that you could see. The wrinkles around them told the story of many worries and reminded you of how time does not forgive anyone, not even the powerful Queen of Akron.

She looked tired too. But you'd never say that out loud. Not unless you wanted your head to end up on a pike. In the story, you were her daughter, therefore the princess. But when you visited, you were practically a stranger. Someone's whose presence the queen abhorred but tolerated for the sake of pretense. You always walked on eggshells around her. She was a scary woman.

"Welcome, my people. My faithful subjects," her voice was strong and carried through the entire room, as big as it was.

"We are here to deliver justice. To punish those who have conspired against me, against us. This man right here, he has committed an unforgivable crime. He has stolen from me, our kingdom." She paused for dramatic effect, " What do you have to say for yourself, elf?"

The man could barely keep himself upright, he'd been beaten extensively. But still, he held his head high, eyes locked with the queen's.

"You won't live forever. Nature will take its course and we shall return to our rightful place in Akron."

The queen stiffened beside you. The elf's words had clearly wounded her ego.

You studied the elf in question. He sounded so confident, so strong. Even though his breaths were counted. His life about to end. Something big was happening and he was just the beginning.

"Elves are traitorous evil beings that have no place in my kingdom," the queen said, "and you will be an example of what happens when any enemy crosses me."

The elf stared, unmoved. He was ready to die for his cause. And he would die, you knew.

Through the corner of your eye you saw a knight, dressed in full armor, unsheathe his sword. He approached the elf, closing the space between them in three quick strides and then forced him on his knees. He held the sword above the elf's head and looked at the queen for permission.

She nodded, a quick, short movement and without hesitation, the knight swung his sword. You looked away before you could see the head detach from the body.

You barely remember how the rest of the hearing ended. You couldn't believe what had just happened. You'd forced your mind away, so that you could get through it. As soon as it was over, you felt familiar hands grabbing you by the arms and forcing you to move. You followed to where you were being taken, which ended up being your chambers.

Once you were hidden away from any curious set of ears and eyes, you sit on your bed and try very hard to keep the tears from falling.

"Is this place any better?" you ask out loud. The words are barely a whisper but you know you've been heard when you receive a response.

"What did you expect, princess? Rainbows and butterflies? Real or not, the world is cruel, you can't make it not so." The words were bitter and you are surprised to hear the tone coming from him. He'd never shown you anything but kindness, love and comfort.

His reply triggers something in you and you speak defensively in return, "You'd do well to remember who you're speaking to in that manner."

He laughs, but not in humor. He shakes his head as his gaze hold yours.

"I'm not a servant, princess."

You feel the lines on your forehead creasing with your confusion, "but i wrote you."

He shrugs, "This isn't your dream anymore ."

And as soon as he says the words, you realize they are true. You had noticed it, since the moment you entered it, that something — everything, was different. The details, the emotions, the story, it all felt too real. With a sense of dread you thought the scariest though you'd ever had...

The fantasy had grown a life of its own.

You didn't say it, but a look at Baekhyun confirmed it. He was watching you, carefully, as he always did. But this time, something felt more beguiling.

"You're the elf prince," as soon as the words leave your lips, you know they are true. The quick shock in his expression confirms it even though he recovers quickly and hides his emotions masterfully through the smile you had grown to know and love.

"Don't deny it, I know you as well as you know me," you challenge.

He doesn't say anything, his expression doesn't change as he mulls it over and then he nods.

"Very well. Yes, I am who you say I am."

The words shake you, but you refuse to let him see how this betrayal hurts you. He wasn't real... he didn't use to be real, but right now it felt like you had been mortally wounded by the one you loved.

You gather all the courage you have left and let it speak in your stead, as you have no other way to power through. Not without looking at him and breaking.

"So now what? Are you going to kill me? Or are you going to use me as leverage over the queen? Either way, she won't care, I mean nothing to her."

He frowns at your words and takes a step in your direction, to where you're seated. You stand up, ready to put up a fight if he tries anything.

"I would never hurt you." He declares.

You laugh, unamused. "Right. I'm supposed to believe that, even though you've been pretending to be someone you're not this whole time."

He takes another step towards you and you put a hand up, "That's close enough."

Hurt flashes in his eyes for a fraction of a second, "Princess."

You shake your head, "Don't call me that. I'm not your princess. You just admitted to that."

He takes another step to you, cutting most of the distance between you two, grabbing your arm when you tried to push him away.

"Y/N." You stop moving. He had never called you by your name.

You finally look him in the eye. He sighs.

"I admitted to being the elf prince, I never said you weren't my princess."

You feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but force them back. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much you cared about him and how much this hurt.

"You expect me to believe anything that has happened between us is real and that it meant something to you when you and your people are trying to ruin us and take power? Clearly this was some sort of plot to kill me or to have something to use over the queen to get her to agree to your terms."

He looks at you in disbelief, "You think I went through all the trouble of coming here, pretending to be a servant just to get to you?"

You pause, "Why else would you be here?"

He takes one step closer, still holding your arms down so you wouldn't try to hit him or something.

"I didn't come here for you, that much you need to believe," he started, "Honestly, I came hoping to be serving the queen."

You rolled your eyes, "The queen's servants are carefully selected from people that have known the royal family since birth, a stranger is never appointed to her."

He nods, "I know that now, but I didn't when I first came here."

You stop trying to maneuver out of his hold. Seeing you a little more calm, he slowly lets go of your arms but doesn't step away.

"So I got appointed to you. Yes, I'll admit, at first I was wondering how I could turn this turn of events in my favor, but it didn't take me long to realize, that you were nothing like the queen. You are kind, caring, innocent and loyal to those you care about. This world might not have been real at first, but you brought it to life. The same way you did with me as I started caring for you."

"How do you know I didn't write you to think these things about me?" you retort.

He smiles and this time, it's the Baekhyun that you know when he speaks again. "Because I haven't been the me you wrote for a long time now. Haven't you noticed how out of character I've been?"

As soon as he asked the question, you realized it was true. You hadn't noticed, because you liked this Baekhyun more than the one you imagined. He didn't follow your every command. He didn't say what you wanted to hear. He did as he wanted when he wanted and made you feel things that you'd never experienced before even in your real life.

"Fine. But how do you know this isn't an act I'm putting on?"

"Enough of this, Y/N. We can spend hours arguing about his, but this isn't what matters right now." His smile slowly disappears as he watches you. You miss it as soon as its gone.

You kick yourself mentally. Once again, you had fallen for a fictional character. But this time... this time it was different. This time you couldn't move on to the next story to fall for another one. His words bring you back to the here and now, even though you wish you could just open your eyes and leave the dream already. You'd been trying to wake up for a while now, but for whatever reason, it wasn't working right now.

"Back there at court, you couldn't bear to watch him die. You know why? Because you know it's wrong. You know as well as I do that the Queen is poison to the kingdom. She won't be satisfied until magic and all who learn it are dead." He states.

You see the hopeful look he's wearing and realize where he's going with this.

"I can't go against the queen." You say quickly.

"Why not?" he argues.

"I just can't."

He lets out an exasperated breath and reaches a hand to your face, one that you push away with your own.

"It's your world, Y/N. Why are you so afraid of taking control over it?"

You huff in indignation, "Why does it matter? None of this is real."

You see shock and anger cross his brown eyes, before he even finds the will to speak.

"It s not real to you. You leave and go back to your life, meanwhile the rest of us, we live here, in the place you created and it goes on even when you're not here."

You stay still. He's right. You had written this world to life and now, because of your words, his people lived banished from the kingdom, in poor conditions, when they should be here, with the rest of you. Enjoying the same privileges.

"I'm sorry." You finally say. The tears start falling now and you can't stop them anymore. Baekhyun stares, confused at first, but quickly recovering and pulling you into his chest where he holds you in place.

"Why are you crying?" he asks, helplessly clinging to you, not knowing what else to do to comfort you.

"I did this. I'm the reason you and the rest of the elves have to live like this. It's all my fault."

He holds you tighter. But it doesn't stop you from rambling on. Or crying harder.

"I wanted to be in control for once, since I can't do it in my own life. So I wrote myself in a position of power so that I could do what I wanted but even here, I couldn't just take responsibility for the bad things happening. So I created the queen, so that I wouldn't have to. Now everything is messed up and people are dying and it's my fault."

You could feel his body shaking, but he still didn't let go of you. You cried harder.

"Why can't I wake up, damn it."

He stiffened at your question and you pulled away from him to look at his face.

"What? What aren't you telling me?" you ask, knowing him well enough to know something was up.

He won't look at you, just let's a finger touch your hand as if he was debating on holding it but not being sure if he should or could.

"Baekhyun."

At the mention of his name, he finally makes a decision and takes hold of your hand before looking you in the eye. He bites his bottom lip in a nervous manner before speaking.

"You've put too much of yourself into this place. There's more of you here than out there, in your world." He finally says. "The pen... the gold pen, did you use it?"

Your eyes widened, "how do you know about that pen?" you ask, apprehensive.

His eyes are pleading, but you're not sure for what.

"Tell me the truth."

Baekhyun nods slowly, "YN... I'm sorry as well," he pauses for a brief second and then continues, "It's been a while since you came here and with the way I feel about you, I just- I wanted you to stay."

You had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"The pen... is magic, isn't it?" you question, even though deep down you know the answer.

Baekhyun only nods.

"Am I stuck here?" you ask.

He stays quiet. This angers you and you push at his chest which forces him to take a step back.

"Am I stuck here, Baekhyun?" you repeat your question and he shakes his head this time.

"Not if you wake up before sunrise," he finally admitted.

You stare at him like he grew a second head. You could not believe he would do something like this. Someone who you had written and had grown to love, had done something so incredibly selfish.

"How could you even do something like this?" you wonder out loud.

"I love you, Y/N. I know you feel the same way about me. Every time you came here, carrying that sadness in your eyes and that broken heart in your chest, I started wishing you could just stay here instead where I could hold you and protect you from all of it. Why would you want to go back to all of that pain?"

You hold his gaze, gathering strength that you didn't know you possessed. "Because that's life, Baekhyun. It sucks. It hurts. But you keep going. You find a way through. You can't just give up because it's hard."

"If you really believe that, then why am I here? Why is any of this here?" he asked, looking at the room around you.

"Because, sometimes I am weak. And I lose my will. So I need something to keep me going. Writing has helped me through so many hard times, it's all I know how to do when things are tough. Words are my armor. That doesn't mean I want to give it all up."

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes as he understood the implications of your words.

"When you wake up, this time, you won't be able to come back here." There was defeat in his voice.

"What?"

"The magic I used for the pen, it holds all the magic gathered in this world. It can keep you here forever if you don't wake up before sunrise, but if you do, it will keep you from coming here again." He stops, takes a breath and looks out the window, "And judging by the fact that it's getting dark here, you don't have a lot of time before it's light over there." The words sounded strained as he kept from crying, realizing what this meant for the both of you.

You realized a moment later what it meant as well and felt as more tears gathered around your eyes.

Without hesitation, you cut the distance between you and collapse into his body. Taken by surprise with your sudden approach, he loses balance briefly but quickly recovers, wrapping his arms around your waist as you hug him as tightly as you can.

"God, I wish you were real in my world," you say.

"You don't hate me?" he asks.

You shake your head and look up to meet his eyes.

"I could never. I would though, if you were in my world, kick your ass for doing something this dumb."

He chuckles, but his eyes are still sad.

"I deserve that."

You nod, trying really hard to stop from crying more.

Beakhyun's hands roam up your back and find your face where he holds it in place before he meets your mouth with his.

The kiss is soft. A whisper of goodbye without words.

The sky continues to darken outside reminding you that you need go now. With all the regret you could ever carry, you step away from him. His hands fall to his sides as you slowly take more steps backwards until you're close to the bed. You close your eyes in concentration, visualizing yourself waking up. It's usually the the way to wake up when you're having a lucid dream.

"I love you."

You open your eyes at his confession and smile sadly at him.

"I'll write you a better ending, I promise."

He shook his head, "It won't be happy without you."

Before you could respond, your body moved upwards, as if being lifted by a magical force.

When you wake up, you are in your room and notice how tears have stained your pillowcase. You quickly get out of bed and rush to your desk, opening the dream journal, to the last page you wrote. You grab the purple pen and put it to paper.

The Queen after a life full of regret, and choices made in fear, had an epiphany. It was time to live life as a true leader. The powerful were not the ones with the biggest army, but the ones who could rule with justice and fairness. A true ruler can admit when she is wrong and and ask for forgiveness when necessary. She knew it would be hard, to change her ways, after all this time, and all she had done... but she knew the best way to start.

She'd welcome the elves back home.

[Part 2]

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* Masterlist *

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A/N: Did not expect this to go in this direction, but that’s where it went... kinda sad with the ending. Do you guys think I should do a part two for this or leave it as is??

Hope you enjoyed either way

Update: I will be doing a part 2. Thanks for the sweet comments ❤️

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may-not-my-flesh-fail-on-me · 4 years ago

Text

Extended Ending for: How Tseng would react to a significant other taking care of him while he has a sickness.

Tseng x Reader (caretaker)

“Now, Y/N. Let go.” Your other arm wrapped around his waist and you had begun to literally drag his tall body back into the bedroom despite his constant protesting. When you met the bed, you had actually thrown him back onto it. There was a moment where he stopped everything. Moving, thinking, even breathing as he was perched up on his elbows, legs partly separated, staring up at your eyes with astonishment, fear and arousal.

“Call out and get some rest. You don’t have another option, here.” Your dominance clearly affected the man as was something you had never revealed. You’ve always allowed him to show his dominance over you, especially in the bedroom and even then while you stood in front of the bed and watched him pant against it, you wished you could apologize and let him do as he wanted. Those thoughts blew away as soon as they appeared. You needed to do this for his own good. If not, he would’ve surely gotten worse in his condition. So, you repeated your verdict. “Call out, or I will.”

He slowly slipped his hand into his pocket to grab the cellphone that was residing there. Clicking the call button, you listened as he spoke to his second-in-command and informed him that he would not be going in all the while never removing eye contact with you. Hanging up, he dropped the phone onto the mattress in defeat.

“Thank you,” a gentle whisper fluttered from you. “I’m gonna get you some medicine while you get some more comfortable clothes on.” Tseng breathed heavily, his chest rose and fell while still in bewilderment. You slowly turned and left the man in the peak of his arousal but perhaps that would be his punishment. He shouldn’t have tried to go to work in the first place, and you wouldn’t reward him with anything he desired. Though, you genuinely cared for his wellbeing and hated how you had to be so rough with him in order to get your point across. Regardless, it was time to gather what he needed to recover from the sickness that was only going to get worse and because you loved him, you did just that.

— [Past this point is where it becomes explicit; please read only if you feel comfortable doing so. My Tumblr is not allowing me to do “Keep Reading” so seriously, if you don’t feel comfortable continuing, please scroll past] —

Returning to the room, you found Tseng in the same spot where you left him. After grabbing what you said you would, you handed him the pills, which he reached his palm in order to comply with your mute order. After he tossed them into his mouth, you handed him the glass of water you held. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed, confirming he swallowed what you had directed.

“Good boy,” you toyed, making his eyes meet yours after those two words. He lowered the glass to place it onto the bedside table and retreated back to the position you left him in, a part of him afraid what you would do if he tried to move away. Another side wanting to do just that in hopes you would punish him through sensual acts.

“Y/N,” he coaxed through a sly tongue, “since I will be at the house today... Perhaps you and I, could pass the time together.” Tseng was never good at initiating sex but from the time you’ve been with him, you at least could figure out when he was alluding to it. You found yourself smirking to his craving and noticed you also wanted the same but a more pressing matter stopped you.

“You’re sick, Tseng. I can’t afford to get what you have.” Tseng now lifted himself to the point he was in a seated position and it sparked something in you that made you want to see him return to his back.

“Because of your allegations, I had no choice but to do as you commanded and have taken the medicine to counteract the effects of the sickness. I assure you that I am confident in the medicine’s ability to cure me.” You laughed in your own throat at his show of desperation to get what he wanted, but still thought to yourself of perhaps still punishing him for not listening to you earlier. You slipped a grin across your devious face before meeting the bed. Using one knee, you crept your body close to his until your chests almost bumped. The other leg surrounded his thigh while your hands slid down over his chest, painting his hair with strokes from your fingers.

“Ever confident, eh?” You teased but due to how close you had put yourself to him, Tseng’s only concern was to get even closer. His hand pressed firmly onto your lower back, while the other slid up and over your neck. “I don’t think you deserve to be dominant.” A confident whisper entered his eardrum and all he could hear was ‘dominant’.

“Do you believe you are capable of being the dominant one?” The impulsive nature of that rude question implied he was playing for keeps. He hated being dominated in the bedroom. Matter of fact, it only happened once. One day he had come home from the bar after spending time with his fellow associates and accidentally became intoxicated. You remember feeling surprised that he still wanted sex and actually allowed you to straddle him since he was too tired to participate.

Other than that, he was always levelheaded and controlling. Giving orders as if you were one of his subordinates and expected them to be followed or you would be punished. As your hands met the button on his suit, your agile fingers undid it with no effort at all.

“I think I’m more capable than you’d like to admit.” Your fingers crept underneath his suit jacket and pulled it down his sweating arms. Whether it was from the sickness or how you were affecting his body was left to be discovered but either way, you didn’t stop in your endeavor. You noticed his breathing became hitched when your fingers purposely explored the length of his arms. You copied the image in your head of that night when he was inebriated and straddled his hips comfortably but knew you wanted to make this morning something to remember.

You found yourself smiling deviously as you undid the tie around his neck. Slowly, you pulled so he felt the fabric grind against his white shirt creating friction he wished he would be the source of.

“Y/N.” He whispered but you did not relent. Free of his neck, you twirled the tie around your fingers giving Tseng enough time to realize what you intended to do with it. “No, Y/N.” He denied hopefully, wishing you would accept his denial and allow him to take over. Allow him to do as he always did; take control. There was always a part of you that inwardly begged as to why he always hated being dominated. He loved doing it but hated reciprocating and you desperately wished you had the courage to ask why.

Instead, you lifted the black fabric across Tseng’s eyes and wrapped it around his head. You were surprised that he still allowed you to do such an act due to the quickening of his shortened breaths. You could feel that he was enjoying what you were enacting by the pressure felt against your pelvis derived from his own so you assumed that must have been why he started to breathe heavily. Jerking the knot together in order to tie it firmly, he gasped to the impact given.

“Y/N.” He continued to press, and it started to sound like a plead. Problem was: you couldn’t tell if he was pleading for you to continue, or for you to stop. Deciding it would have been in his best interest to make it seem like you were aware of his uncertainties, you slid your hands underneath his hair to grope his neck. Leaning close, you whispered into his ear a sweet fallacy.

“Do you want me to stop, Tseng?” He did not answer, probably overwhelmed by the amount of domination you surrounded him with. Using your lips to sever any hopes he had of believing your words were sincere, you took a breath into his earlobe. “I’ll stop, as soon as you come for me.” That task would not be too hard to achieve, he mused in his own head but he had no idea that you were also playing with the intention of winning and getting exactly what you wanted. And what you wanted, was Tseng completely and utterly submissive. Just this once.

“Why do I feel you will not stand by your word?” His usual soothing voice was then filled with what could be mistaken as paranoia and when you placed your hands under the crook of his arms to lift his body towards the bed frame, it confirmed his suspicions. Finally achieving what you had desired since he sat up, you stared down at his chest as it rose and fell quickly with his back against the mattress. He attempted to speak your name again, but naturally at this point you ignored all hopes he had by simply not responding. Without using your lips, because you decided it would be better to wait and tease him with skin first, you lined his abdomen with your hands. Lining each and every muscle with your fingers, something Tseng actually enjoyed thoroughly. He even admitted it to you: how he craved when you touched him.

For a tall, skinny man, Tseng was by no means unfit. He hid his physique well behind the layers of his Turk suit but once you unraveled them, boy were you always in for a treat. You waited however, saving the best until you got him exactly where you wanted him. Your hands lowered even further, finding the leather belt he fastened neatly against his pants and began to unbuckle it very slowly, which allowed him to feel the suspense of what you had planned for him. Again, he called out your name but did not remove the blindfold, secretly aware that if he were to try and face off against you, ultimately he would fail. He was better off accepting what you wanted him to do and that was that. Naturally, you still continued to ignore his hidden pleas to get you to stop and it was only when you tugged the belt free from his person, did he release a sentence.

“What do you have in store for me?” The hope in his voice never faded and it was that very desperation that made you want to fuck and dishevel him even more. A hushed chuckle slid away from your slithery tongue was his only answer before you took his wrists in your palms. Tseng had begun to move then, squirming and fidgeting, aware of what you truly demanded of him. “No, Y/N. Anything but this—“ you then noticed there must have been something deeper that he never told you of. Why else would he so desperately want to escape being shackled? It couldn’t have just been avoiding your domination. Still not giving up though, you cooed him with a soft hand against his cheek.

“Tseng, I promise you that I will not hurt you. You can trust me.” You noticed his fingers that remained in your hand were trembling ever so slightly and it almost made you falter... If you weren’t reminded of all the times he showed his dominance over you in the past and very rarely did you not want to participate but inevitably did because you loved him. You hated to admit it, but it was about time he picked up his slack and repaid you for just some of those times. “I won’t, hurt you.” That may have been a lie, you honestly weren’t sure but regardless couldn’t back down now. You were so close to getting what you needed. His submission.

Your progression continued after he did not respond to your promises and met the bed frame with his wrists in your hands. Wrapping the belt around the metal and his arms, you tightened it with more force than you intended but once you did, his body jerked and bounced into your already wet pants. You hated that it sent a bundle of sensations through your body but it turned you on harder than you ever imagined it would, making your heart pound excruciatingly against the inside of your ribcage.

Your fingers trailed down along the insides of his arms and you could feel his own heart beating as heavily as yours was. When you met the button that was covering his neck, you realized amusedly that couldn’t do. Undoing it, you found the sweat of his neck collecting there in a beautiful sheen like morning dew on a freshly cut field. You wanted desperately to touch him there, but didn’t want to ruin the canvas that was his skin so instead, you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. You made sure to do it very patiently, in order to assure his impatience. When you finally finished unwrapping him, you pulled at the edges of the shirt to reveal what he had been selfishly keeping from you. His beautifully crafted muscles that were the perfect size for you.

Your eyes painted his chest with lust and there was a moment where you considered ripping his pants off and simply taking him as soon as possible. You didn’t though, you had to wait. You had to let the dominance you were showing simmer down into his very core. You wanted Tseng to always remember this day. To always remember what could follow if he were to disobey and what ‘punishment’ would follow. You pressed your weight down onto your palms as they rested next to his bare sides and you relished in the sight of his panting upper body. Shifting your head down until you were mere centimeters from his sweating skin, you blew against the sheen of liquid to tease the man’s hormones.

“Stop—“ he stuttered in a breathy command but it was far too late for him to be giving orders and actually expecting them to be obeyed. Now, purposely being as skillful as possible, you traversed your head over his right nipple. Already hard from the enticement you’d revealed to him, you swallowed it inside of your mouth. Sucking and coating it with your tongue, he gripped the frame of the bed in tight fists while twitching from the pleasure your tongue brought. Letting him squirm, you tasted the sweat he was secreting very mildly and found yourself getting even wetter from the sounds he was releasing. Grunts and moans entered the silent bedroom, giving a sense of urgent debauchery that would surely follow but it was when you felt his hips move up against yours, did you stop.

“Now, now.” You slid your fingers along his cheek while your thumb traced his bottom lip. Coating your skin with his hot breath, he said nothing then, worried he would have to answer for what he had tried to prematurely rid himself of. “We can’t have any of that. You do as I say, don’t act without proposal.” Tseng had begun to truly notice how much you had actually gotten from him over the years and cursed at himself for allowing this position to come to fruition.

“Y/N, I can no longer take this.” You found yourself with a complacent smirk across your lips, somehow not phased by the words he was telling you. Honestly, you became aroused by them and you wondered if that was okay or not. “Release me.” That simple order made you stand behind what you had originally planned for him and ultimately, decided against giving him what he wanted regardless of the consequences. This was a one and a lifetime chance for you and you were going to see it through.

“I can’t do that, Tseng.”

“This is not a joke!” He suddenly shouted and it made your anxiety come into play as you wondered what could bother him so much that would make him snap at you.

“Tseng, calm. down.” You advised while you slid your hands along the sides of his neck. “I already promised that I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I? Why don’t you trust me?” There was a long silence where Tseng didn’t know what to respond with. He did trust you, but there was something about the submission you were forcing upon him that made him worry. Perhaps it was because of...—

“I trust you.” Finally, he gave his answer and with those three words allowed you to continue in what you were giving him. You pressed a kiss onto his neck while whispering your thanks. Returning your lips to his nipple, you pecked them against his sensitive skin earning you a gratifying moan that warmed the very essence inside of you. Tseng had stopped squirming but you were not elated. You found yourself aching for those movements again but knew you could find a way to have them return. Crawling down his immobile body, placing your mouth in between his abdomen muscles, you open it to run your tongue along his skin in order to leave a trail of saliva. A feat you knew would leave him wondering where you would lead next while reminding him of where you have been. He once again spoke your name, to which you smiled when you met the lining of his pants. That was one step in the right direction of where you wanted him to remain.

Unbuttoning the single button which keeps his pants together, you stared up from the perspective of his pelvis and grew even hungrier for the sight of him wiggling under your control. Naked and disheveled. You chuckled in your throat. That was a word you enjoyed to use and couldn’t help but continue to repeat it. Probably because it was so rare to see that it was practically one of the seven wonders of the world.

You unzipped his black pants slowly, allowing the metal to vibrate against his already raging erection you could feel from beyond both the fabrics of his pants and underwear. Tseng’s breathing had become intoxicating to you; listening to it drowned you with pleasure you hadn’t felt before. You had begun to notice why he enjoyed dominating over you. The idea never occurred to you before; never thought too much of it until that very moment when you got a taste for it.

Finally, what you craved was only hiding underneath a tight pair of briefs. It was a trial in itself to tear your eyes away from his length you were well familiar with but still knew you wanted to tease him for a little while longer. Making sure to keep your fingers hooked inside of his pants so your skin travelled along his slim legs until you met his ankles, you left him bare underneath your eyes. Tossing the empty piece of clothing beside the bed on the floor, you pressed your weight onto the bed next to his sides again.

You wanted something from him. You wanted him to beg. You wanted him to plead with you to either stop or continue. You didn’t care. You wanted that sign of distress which would imply you had absolute control. That would’ve sounded horrible to admit, but Tseng had done the same on many occasions and you never minded it. He always rewarded you after you obliged his commands. It would be the same for him if only he obeyed.

Your hands gripped Tseng’s hips suddenly, forcing his chest to lunge forward a few inches, only as far as the belt binding his hands allowed. When your head aligned with his waist, your eyes branded his underwear with fornication burning through them. You saw a wet spot form in between his legs before you could even reveal the most prized possession that belonged to him. Immediately, you lifted your gaze to his face, just to search for what you so wished to find. Oh, did you. The blush that claimed his cheeks almost admittedly brought you to your climax as well but you apparently had more self control than he did. Plus, you assumed it was only pre-come. You found satisfaction in knowing he had much more to relieve.

A part of you wanted to pester him on the fact he had come already regardless if it wasn’t in it’s full entirety but you were too mesmerized by his almost nude body underneath you. Waiting to be unwrapped like a present you’ve been aware of weeks before the destined time to open it. Clipping his briefs as you did to his pants, you only gave pause when Tseng once again breathed your name into the quiet air broken only by his erratic, heavy breathing. You slowed your progression, only to make him feel as if you listened to him for once... To be reminded that there was no option he had but to abide by what you wanted. Gliding his underwear down the same trail his pants went, you were finally greeted by his excited flesh which waited impatiently for you to bury yourself onto it.

With him entirely devoid of clothing except on his arms, you could only stare for a long while at this display of skin you never truly got to patiently absorb with your sight. Your curious fingers started from his ankles and explored his legs until you reached his knees. Sliding the explorative hands over his inner thighs, you gripped them by the skin in between your pointer finger and thumbs to push them apart. You heard a whimper from your impatient and admittedly broken boyfriend but you couldn’t stop now. Not when you’re so close to seeing him break as a result of your dominance.

When you rubbed your hands along his inner thighs to reach his pelvis, he shivered against your hold. So close to his begging flesh but too far away where he couldn’t feel your fingers grasp him. You crept your devious face beside his length that was well over average and did not do just that. Instead, you went directly next to his penis before breathing against his shaft, letting the sticky breath mark his already steaming flesh. His hands could’ve broken the bed frame from sexual frustration but you did not relent. Not until he got the idea of what you desired of him. It only took him three breaths of yours to realize what you were trying to allude to.

“Pl-please, Y/N.” Victory and you knew it. Even though he gave into defeat, his submission would not go unrewarded. In the black of his sight, he felt the breath of your mouth removed from his pulsating erection and that openly frightened him. He needed to know where you went. He needed to see what you were doing to him. That was always one of the biggest sensual notions for the man, watching as he committed these acts to you. Similarly, he enjoyed staring at every moment you pleasured him. He cursed that you had no idea what you were doing to him mentally but something urged him to think that you were well aware.

Without warning, you enveloped his cock with your wet and soaked mouth. Tseng’s head arched back into the pillows, grasping the metal frame with such a tight grip his flesh could have fused with it. Sending it deep into your throat, you retreated so only the crown remained in your orifice to suck off what was left from his preemptive release. He tried so very hard to keep what was still inside of him from entering your mouth so quickly but when you held his thighs down with your elbows and grasped his testicles in your palms to rub them with your thumbs in fast circles all the while bobbing your head over his entire length, he couldn’t uphold the mental order to himself.

The liquid was quick to disperse into the back of your throat and even after it did, you kept your mouth over him while you collected all he gave. You stopped rubbing, but still held his thighs in the place they were in. When you finished swallowing every last bit of his salty and somehow sweet semen, you parted your mouth from his heated member which had already begun to soften in a satisfied transgression but you had no intention of stopping there. You had pleasured him, but you still needed to satiate yourself.

Undoing your pants as quietly as possible in hopes you would surprise him, as you learned quickly you enjoyed the sight of his body jerking uncontrollably because of it. After you shuffled your legs free of the clothing, you made sure to spread your legs far enough around his sides so they would not touch him until you made yourself known on top of his cock. Taking it into your hand, you stroked the still damp piece of flesh in order to ready it for your appearance. Tseng had actually repeated his plea from before, except this time you knew it was a beg for you to begin again. This you were certain of, and after all, you didn’t want to displease him. You were smirking as your hand massaged his cock before you consequently placed your entrance down to meet him. You could feel his heartbeat from the tip against your inner walls and you could swear it matched your own. Fast, excited and ready.

Pushing him even deeper into you, you must lift your hips to repeat your motion in order to bury him even further. Your thighs retreated to rest against the sides of his hips to aid in the friction between you, him, and the bed. You had created a steady rhythm which quickened when you reached the furthest he could enter. With every hit of your pelvis against his, Tseng’s expression twinged with ecstasy and yours did the same. Your hands rested on the skin he always kept clean just for you after he learned you preferred a clean shaven man above the penis. Your fingers felt the almost nonexistent stubble of hair that he had just shaved the night prior and it reminded you how much he truly cared by always showing you the little things he paid attention to.

Because of this, you felt the height of your climax come to pass but aware he had not finished yet, you worked through it in order to appease him. Making your pace much faster once the aftershocks of pleasure faded, you could tell he was near his finale once his breathing became heavier and the muscles over his abdomen tightened. You knew he was about to convulse into an aggressive finish and aware of how he felt made your second orgasm begin to shine. Within a matter of four more thrusts, he soaked your gateway with his seed just as you hit your peak of sensation. Slowing your humps, you gripped his sides as leverage to give you enough strength to ride out the rest of your orgasm. Shivering, both of your bodies were content and it took much effort to remove yourself from him. Once you did, you laid beside him but before you removed him from his contraption, you whispered into his ear, hidden behind his frizzy black hair.

“So, will you ever fight to go into work when you’re feeling sick again?” His chest that was still repetitively raising, only stalled momentarily before he answered your question.

“That depends. Will this always be my punishment?” Your hand lifted without your say to glide the tips of your fingers along his jawline to pull his face towards yours.

“It could also be a reward.” Tseng hesitated as he was unaware if that was a trick. His breath hit your face as you awaited another response.

“A reward, I would much rather be given when I am not bound.” You laughed tiredly, wiped from your expense at the act you’d just committed.

“That depends on you, Tseng. Will you fight me again?” His mouth did not move, as if in thought for a reply to give you. Only after you thought he wouldn’t give you one did you actually hear his voice.

“Only when I long to be tied, will I fight.” You knew what he implied. He would never want this again but therefore, you also accepted the fact that he would never fight against you again. Sadly, you wished you could dominate him more often and with his show of acceptance, you had a lingering hope he could perhaps be more willing to open himself up to you. Only time would tell of that.

“Then I’m looking forward to it.”

#final fantasy 7 #tseng x reader #loooooong post #hope this satiates the thirst us hoes feel for tseng haha #poor tseng. holy shit

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bloody-fists-beating-hearts · 5 years ago

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Fallout OC companion meme

General

Name: Coyote

Location: Freeside - Atomic Wrangler (busy getting kicked out for cleaning house)

How to obtain: Bring her all the ingredients needed for a bottle of wasteland tequila, which she will share with you

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together:

“Right on. Let’s burn some shit.”

Use Melee:

(without psycho in inventory) “Ain’t really my specialty boss-man/boss-lady. You sure you can’t just get me some ammo?”

(with psycho in inventory) [Manic Laughter]

Use Ranged: “Now you’re talking! Let’s go for the knees.”

Open Inventory:

“Don’t touch my chems, got it?”

“Oooh, shiny!”

“That psycho is...uhh...medicinal.”

“You’re gonna sell this, right?”

Stay Close:

(if male) “Any closer and I’ll start charging, sweetheart.”

(if female) “Well, I don’t really swing that way...but 20 caps is 20 caps.”

Keep Distance: “You just want the good shit to yourself, don’t you? Fine.”

Stealth: [Soft Laughter] “Lights out.”

Back Up: “No, you’re getting in my way.”

Be Passive: “Aw, you’re no fun.”

Be Aggressive:

(without psycho) “Yes! Woo!”

(with psycho) [Snarling]

Use Stimpack: “Oh thank fuck, I needed that.”

Wait Here: “Okay but if I run out of smokes, I’m leaving.”

Follow Me: “Finally.”

Send to the Lucky 38: “Shit, they got a bar in that place? Nevermind, I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Send Home: “Aw, what, you found someone prettier? Fine, I’ll be up north.” (Found in North Vegas Square).

Injured:

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK.”

“Goddammit you motherfucker.”

“Give me a stimpack you son of a bitch!”

“[Cough] Shit...is that a rib?”

Death:

[Rasping breath] “Not...not yet...”

[Wet chuckling] “Guess my luck’s finally run out...”

[Panting] “Fuck...you...”

Aggression: aggressive/not aggressive/ very aggressive/frenzied

Confidence: cowardly/cautious/average/brave/foolhardy

Assistance: helps nobody/helps allies/helps friends and allies

Karma: very good/good/neutral/evil/very evil

Perks

[Luck of the Draw] Player gets a 20% higher chance of criticals and more caps found in containers.

[Where Your Heart Is] Coyote gets +5DT and healing chems are 15% more effective

[Feelings Are For Suckers] Coyote gets +5DT and psycho, slasher, and jet are 16% more effective

Drops

Drops a Lucky Star Cap necklace and a faded patch of blue material with a yellow 13 embroidered on it.

Quests and Recruitment

Coyote is found being kicked out of the Atomic Wrangler after attempting to circumvent a previous ban. She then engages in conversation with the player, requesting all the ingredients for her homemade Wasteland Tequila (Empty Whiskey Bottle, Nevada Agave Fruit, Purified Water and Jet). Once the items are delivered she invites the player to a nearby campfire, and gives them a bottle of tequila to share. After a brief conversation the player can offer to hire her for 250 caps.

Personal Quest:

[The House That Built Me]

After visiting several different locations with Coyote and accumulating affinity points with her through dialogue (choosing self-serving choices or passing barter speech checks) Coyote will stop and ask to talk. If the player agrees she will tell the Courier that while she was travelling in the Mojave she heard rumours about Richard Saint, a man that might be her father (who abandoned her mother before she was born) being somewhere in the area. After taking a short detective journey across the Mojave it is discovered that the man who is Coyote’s father is living richly on the Strip. Coyote reveals that after her father left, her mother had to turn to prostitution to make ends meet, got hooked on chems and eventually died, leaving Coyote alone.

When confronted it is revealed that Coyote’s mother had been a drug-addicted prostitute long before she solicited Richard in New Reno, and that contrary to her mother’s claims he never knew about Coyote being conceived. Richard is aloof and has no interest in Coyote, threatening to call security on her. Coyote is furious and wants to kill him. The player then convince Coyote that

- Richard is her deadbeat father and should die for abandoning them [Feelings Are For Suckers]

- Her father could have been any number of clients and Richard’s life should be spared [Where Your Heart Is]

Ending Slides

If their personal quest is never completed…

After the battle of Hoover Dam, Coyote soon parted ways with the Courier, drifting across the Mojave, looking for something she would never find...

[Feelings Are For Suckers] ...eventually, residents of Vegas began speaking of an uprising in Vault 3, and soon the Fiends became more organised, aggressive, and deadlier than ever, attacking caravans and spreading further outward until North Vegas Square was finally overrun. This new tribe of Fiends began calling themselves the Coyotes.

[Where Your Heart Is] ...as time grew, she began attracting other drifters and travellers to her. Weary adventurers, chem addicts, ex-legion, Vipers and Jackals...soon, every bar in the Mojave began to spin tales of the nomadic gang of mercenaries that left a river of blood in every job they took - and they were available for hire, if you could afford the price.

If the Courier sides with Legion and…

After the Legion took the Dam, Coyote simply adjusted and began selling weaponry and protection to those looking to flee the legion, or to travel to it. She always made sure to be one step ahead of the slaver’s collar, though,

If the Courier sides with NCR and…

With the NCR winning the dam, the Mojave began to lose its free and savage appeal that it once had. Coyote took to stealing from caravans and military outposts under the cover of night, determined to profit from the NCR’s victory in her own way.

If the Courier sides with House and…

With House maintaining the status Quo of New Vegas, Coyote gained a brief stint of infamy within the strip after clearing out every Casino in a single afternoon. She spent most of it at Gun Runners, and the rest was put towards buying as many chems as she could.

If the Courier makes New Vegas independent and…

After the Second Battle of Hoover Dam resulted in an Independent New Vegas, Coyote felt something almost close to gratitude towards the courier, who understood better than most that some things must always remain wild and free.

god this was fun. drawing of coyote made by the always lovely @yesjejunus and the blank template by @socksual-innuendos . i love you guys and enjoy having the world’s worst and edgiest companion by your sides

#occompanionmeme #new vegas #fallout #oc coyote #fnv #fallout new vegas #courier companion #courier six

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT SHOW

And being rapacious not only doesn't help you do that, but probably hurts. It seemed the essence of cool, as any writing should, by what it says, not who wrote it. And present union leaders are any less courageous. They can work on projects with an intensity in both senses that few insiders can match. Show features in an order driven by some kind of preamble. For example, correcting someone's grammar, or harping on minor mistakes in names or numbers. When you negotiate terms with a startup, it's easier for competitors too. If there's one piece of advice I would give about writing essays, it would be a mistake to talk to corp dev unless a you want to do is write checks. Not all rich people got that way from startups, of course, have to change and keep changing their whole infrastructure, because otherwise the headers would look as bad to the Bayesian filters as ever, no matter what your lifespan was.1 I say languages have to be able to filter out most present-day spam, because spam evolves.2 Someone responsible for three of the best writers would be excluded for having offended one side or the other.

He's a senator. It may work, but it feels young because it's full of rich people, it has to be better if the people with more knowledge have more power. One thing we'll need is support for the new is exactly what you want than it would take to write it yourself, then all that code is doing nothing but make your manual thick. This is now starting to happen, not to make the medicine go down. In effect, this structure gives the investor a free option on the next round, when customers compare your actual products. As I've written before, one byproduct of technical progress is that things we like tend to become more addictive. But I don't see how we could replace founders. If new ideas arise like doodles, this would explain why you have to join a syndicate, though. VCs feel they need the power that comes with board membership to ensure their money isn't wasted. Well, I suppose we'd consider it, for the average engineer, more options just means more rope to hang yourself. But the way this problem ultimately gets solved may not be an absolute rule, but it is not entirely a coincidence that the word Republic occurs in Nigerian scam emails, and also occurs once or twice in spams referring to Korea and South Africa.

I would give about writing essays, it would not. Imagine, for example. That's what you're looking for. At sixteen I was about as observant as a lump of rock. The first time I met Jerry Yang, we thought we were meeting so he could check us out in person before buying us. And the only thing you can least afford. I end up with two large hash tables, one for each corpus, mapping tokens to number of occurrences. Above all, make a habit of asking questions, especially questions beginning with Why. Microsoft, actually.3 But for obvious reasons no one wanted to give that answer. Its fifteen most interesting words are as follows: let g 2 or gethash word good 0 b or gethash word bad 0 unless g b 5 max. They're not very common, but the word madam never occurs in my legitimate email, and whatever was found on the site could be included in calculating the probability of the email being a spam, whereas sexy indicates.

But I don't think many people realize there is a significant correlation. The nature of the business means that you want to write essays at all. But their tastes can't be quite mainstream either, because they pick later, when I had time to reread them more closely. Designing systems of great mathematical elegance sounds a lot more appealing to most of us than pandering to human weaknesses. Most investors know this m. Empirically that seems to work. We often tell startups to release a minimal version one quickly, then let your mind wander is like doodling with ideas. What makes a good founder? I sat down to write them. The 20th best player, causing him not to worry about money. But they were expensive compared to what corp dev does and know they don't want to; you could just show a randomly truncated slice of life, and that would be a good painter, and b means they can supply advice and connections as well as teach.

But a competitor that managed to avoid facing it. But at most valuation caps: caps on what the effective valuation will be when the debt converts to stock at the next sufficiently big funding round. You look at spams and you think, the gall of these guys to try sending me mail that begins Dear Friend or has a subject line that's all uppercase and ends in eight exclamation points. MIT, Stanford, Berkeley, and Carnegie-Mellon? I'm talking to companies we fund? Don't be evil. It must be something you can learn. Which caused yet more revenue growth for Yahoo, and further convinced investors the Internet was worth investing in. At Rehearsal Day, one of the founders is an expert in some specific technical field, it can be good for writing server-based software, surprisingly, is continuations. But it does seem as if Google was a collaboration.4 Another big factor was the fear of Microsoft.

VCs, whose current business model requires them to invest large amounts, and a human who doesn't is doing a bad job of being human—is no better than an animal. Startup School. This kind of focus is very valuable, actually. I stopped wondering about it. A probability can of course be mistaken, but because the space of possibilities is so large. If you have any kind of data structure, like window systems, simulations, and cad programs. You can afford to be passive. What is our purpose? The author is a self-sustaining.5

Notes

A knowledge of human nature, might come from. Different kinds of content. 39 says that a their applicants come from all over, not economic inequality. Few technologies have one clear inventor.

Unless of course, but you should probably pack investor meetings with So, can I count you in a signal. If there's an Indian grocery store near you, what you have the determination myself. The closest we got to Yahoo, we should be working on such an interview, I'd open our own startup Viaweb, Java applets were supposed to be something you can describe each strategy in terms of the magazine they'd accepted it for you by accidents of age and geography, rather than risk their community's disapproval.

Companies often wonder what to outsource and what the valuation at the end of the founders realized.

Most people let them mix pretty promiscuously. Instead of the biggest successes there is one of them.

To talk to a partner, which would be possible to make a conscious effort to be evidence of a safe will be inversely proportional to the next legitimate email was a kid most apples were a handful of lame investors first, and on the other seed firms always find is that the site.

Thanks to David Sloo, Dan Friedman, Joel Lehrer, and Paul Buchheit for inviting me to speak.

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scoutception · 4 years ago

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Dragon Quest I & II review

Dragon Quest: the definitive Japanese role playing game series, the one that started it all, kept improving upon that foundation, and has kept sight of just what made it a success, and stuck to it, for almost 35 years. In Japan, anyway. While the series certainly put in a good effort, managing to release the first four NES games overseas, under the title of Dragon Warrior, it was just too little, too late, in each case. The first game only got localized in 1989, 3 years after its original Famicom release. By then, the third game was already out in Japan, and the original Final Fantasy, an undeniably more advanced game than Dragon Quest I, would be localized less than a year later. Despite acclaimed offerings in later gens, like Dragon Quest VIII, and the DS remakes of Dragon Quest IV, V, and VI, the series has just failed to make an impact in the West despite its importance, and while it’s currently probably the most popular it’s ever been, thanks to the release of the even more acclaimed Dragon Quest XI, and the Hero’s inclusion in Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, it’s still a far cry from its status in its home country, and thus, out of curiosity, I decided to start going through the series myself, starting with the SNES remake of the first two games. Note that this version was never actually released outside of Japan, and thus requires a fan translation to play in English. Almost every other release, including a similar remake on the Gameboy Color, and a collection including the third game on the Switch, were officially localized, and so may be better options. Either way, let’s start on it all.

Dragon Quest I:

Story: The story of Dragon Quest I takes place on the continent of Alefgard, ruled by King Lorik of Tantegel and protected by the Sphere of Light, a magical object originally bestowed upon Erdrick, a legendary hero who once saved the land in ancient times. Alefgard’s peace is shattered, however, by an invasion by the Dragonlord, an evil sorcerer residing within Charlock Castle, who caused a mass appearance of monsters throughout the realm, stole the Sphere of Light, and kidnapped Princess Gwaelin, Lorik’s daughter. Just when it seemed Alefgard would be permanently shrouded in darkness, however, a descendant of Erdrick appeared, and with the assistance of Lorik, sets out to defeat the Dragonlord and save the realm as his ancestor did. That’s pretty much the extent of Dragon Quest I’s story. There’s really not a plot so much as just a premise. The towns have no story going on in them, no substantial events happen as you progress through the game, even saving Gwaelin is more for the sake of gameplay than anything else, something I’ll get to later. That said, it was 1986, and the game even having as much dialogue throughout as it does throughout was extremely uncommon in those days. It also had a few neat twists throughout, like rescuing Gwaelin happening partway through the game rather than being the ultimate goal, similar to Final Fantasy, the Dragonlord making the Hero a deceptive offer of alliance instead attacking on sight, and the Hero speaking, after spending the whole game silent, to decline the king’s offer to rule the land, deciding that if he is to rule a kingdom, he wishes it to be one he makes himself. The original NES translation, and the revised translation for the mobile version, also have pseudo-Elizabethan dialogue that, while incredibly cheesy, gives the game a lot of charm. Overall, there’s really not much to find in Dragon Quest I’s story, and is quite possibly the most basic JRPG story there is, but it deserves appreciation for what it did at the time, especially considering that Yuji Hori, the designer, also made The Portopia Serial Murder Case three years prior, an adventure game that helped influence visual novels as a genre. It may not be impressive now, but it was significant all the same.

Gameplay: As you might suspect, the gameplay of DQ1 isn’t much more advanced than its story. You control the Hero, and, unlike almost all other RPGs, only the Hero, exploring Alefgard, visiting towns, fighting enemies on the world map and within dungeons, gathering equipment, and collecting various plot items necessary to create the path to the Dragonlord’s castle. Combat simply consists of physically attacking, using magic, namely healing, attack, and status effect spells, defending, and running away. Monsters are only ever encountered one at a time, and there’s only four bosses scattered throughout the game, with only the two phase Dragonlord being outright mandatory. Equipment comes in the form of weapons, shields, and armor, plus a few accessories that can be equipped, and consumable items such as herbs to restore HP, torches to light up dungeons, and keys to open locked doors are also available. The Hero naturally learns spells as he levels up, and besides the aforementioned combat spells, he learns utility spells as well, such as Glow, which lights up dungeons without needing a torch, Repel, which keeps weaker random encounters from appearing, and Return, which automatically teleports you back to Tantegel Castle.

While you can get some information talking to NPCs, generally, you’re left to figure out just what to do next on your own. Most of the time, the answer is grinding. It’s not an exaggeration to say that most of the game is made up of grinding. With only four dungeons in the game, one of them being completely optional and only containing some items, and another being little more than a passage way outside of containing Gwaelin and the first boss, and only six towns, with nearly nothing to do within except buying items and resting at inns, the game would be absurdly short on its own. That said, while justified, it’s not the most forgiving time. While equipment is obviously quite helpful, the limited availability and high price of each piece means that, invariably, you’ll have to go out onto the overworld and grind for lengthy periods of time, either to accumulate levels to make you strong enough to safely make the trip to your destination, or earning gold for items that’ll fulfill the same purpose. Trying to go anywhere underleveled almost always results in a swift death, not helped by how difficult it can be at times to discern just where you’re meant to be next, and Tantegel being the only available save point doesn’t help. Not even the start of the game takes any mercy, with you only being given a torch, a medicinal herb, if you look around, and a fairly piddly amount of money, which really stings when you start absolutely no equipment. You either have to forsake proper armor in order to buy the second best weapon, or buy armor, and be stuck with a bamboo spear that’s barely better than your bare fists. Grinding out for the rest of the equipment either way isn’t especially dangerous, but it sets the tone for the rest of the game quite well.

That said, as restrictive and unforgiving as the game is in a lot of ways, it’s surprisingly relaxed in other ways. The lack of story, and sheer strength of the random encounters, means there’s surprisingly few physical roadblocks, other than doors that need magical keys, which mostly show up in dungeons anyway, and the path to the Dragonlord’s castle that requires the Rainbow Drop, the culmination of the fetch quests throughout the game, to be traversed. Otherwise, assuming you’re strong enough, you’re free to go wherever you wish. Additionally, assuming you know what you’re doing, important parts of the game, such as rescuing Gwaelin, which requires fighting the Green Dragon, and opening up Cantlin, which requires fighting the Golem, are completely optional; their main purposes are to help locate a key item on a nondescript part of the world map, and if you know where to find it, you can simply collect it on your own and save yourself the trouble, something most later RPGs would usually bar you from. The game will even alter the ending a bit if you don’t mess with rescuing Gwaelin, or don’t return her before the end of the game, showing it was very much intentional. This helps give the game a very casual feeling pace; since there’s not that much to see or do, there’s not much reason to try to rush. You can afford to take it slow and steady, which helps make the grinding a bit more tolerable than if it were keeping you from some detailed plot event. There’s not even a way to actually game over, as death simply sends you back to Tantegel, at the cost of losing half your money. Punishing if you got caught off guard during a grind session, not so much if you were simply exploring after gearing up.

There’s also a good amount of surprisingly thoughtful gameplay elements throughout. For example, the Golem boss is normally a very difficult opponent, but there exists a flute that can put it to sleep when used in battle, making it much, much easier. Despite this, however, you can still beat the Golem without the flute, if you’re strong enough, so it’s more just a way of letting you beat it at lower levels. There’s also the infamous Metal Slimes and Gold Golems, who can be encountered in specific parts of the world map, and reward massive amounts of experience or gold, respectively, if you can manage to defeat them. While more than a bit luck based in the case of the Metal Slime, as they take minimal damage from physical attacks, are immune to magic, and will gladly flee at any opportunity, they’re still massive boons if you can defeat them, and save you a good amount of grinding. There’s also an example as far as equipment goes: the second best weapon and armor, the Flame Sword and the Magic Armor are prohibitively expensive, and trying to get enough to afford them could make you do more grinding than you’d need to beat the game anyway, but the best in those categories can simply be found for free, with Erdrick’s Armor being guarded by the third boss, the Knight Aberrant, and Erdrick’s Sword being found in the depths of the Dragonlord’s Castle. While acquiring them is obviously a bit more difficult by skipping buying the sword and armor, and the best shield, the Silver Shield, needs to be bought regardless, it’s still very possible, and can save you a good bit of work, especially with the armor’s ability to heal you with every step you take.

The experience is also streamlined a good deal by the changes this remake, and all the remakes afterwards, make, most notably reducing the amount of experience needed to level up, and increasing the amount of gold dropped by enemies to make grinding slightly faster. Additionally, compared to having to go into the menu for actions such as talking and opening doors, a general purpose button has been added that do such things automatically, and stat boosting seeds have been added across the game, allowing you to strengthen yourself a bit more than usual. Overall, saying Dragon Quest I’s gameplay is primitive by today’s standards would be an understatement, and yet it’s held up oddly well despite that. The grinding is simply emblematic of NES RPGs as a whole, and because of its simple gameplay, it’s nowhere near as cryptic, overly convoluted, or frustrating as many others that would come afterwards, such as the original Mother, Final Fantasy II, or its own sequel. That said, it’s so simple and repetitive that it’s unlikely to do much for you if you don’t have a taste for older games, and most of those games with much more visible flaws are often much more entertaining experiences.

Graphics: As this remake uses the engine for Dragon Quest V, it looks quite similar, comparable to the SNES versions of Final Fantasy IV and V. Generally, the graphics are decent, but unremarkable, especially with the overworld sprites. Dragon Quest famously features art and designs by Akira Toriyama, the creator of Dragon Ball, but while the art and designs themselves look great, they aren’t translated into the game the best. While it’s certainly an improvement over the NES version, the overworld sprites are still small and simplistic enough that they don’t look that great, and the rest of the characters and environments aren’t anything special either.

That said, the enemies are a whole other story. Toriyama created possibly the most adorable bestiary of enemies ever, from the famous smiling, tear drop shaped slimes, to bats with equally goofy smiles, ghosts wearing witch hats, and even the Dragonlord looks pretty goofy at first. It’s hard to be intimidated by most of the enemies, but it gives them a lot of charm, and the more serious looking enemies, like the golems and dragons work quite well. Their sprites in battle are a huge improvement over the overworld sprites as well, and are easily the highlight of the game’s visuals.

Music: Dragon Quest I’s soundtrack, as with the rest of the series, was composed by Koichi Sugiyama, and while the amount of tracks is quite small, it’s still a very catchy and classic soundtrack, especially in this version. Tracks like the Tantegel Castle theme, the overworld theme, and the battle theme have been significantly extended from their original versions, making them much less repetitive, and the music in general is updated very, very well. My favorite change is to the cave theme, which, in the NES version, would simply slow down and lower the pitch the lower you go in each dungeon. In this version, while not every floor has its own version of the theme anymore, the different versions are much more significantly different from each other, with the third version being downright sinister, and the exclusive version for the Dragonlord’s lair being near unrecognizable. It’s very much worth checking out. Dragon Quest II: Luminaries of the Legendary Line

Here we have the awkward middle point between Dragon Quest I, the game that started up the JRPG genre, and Dragon Quest III, the game that would definitively refine it. It’s not that Dragon Quest II was a bad effort, as it is in many ways a much more advanced game than DQ1, and holds up surprisingly well in most aspects, considering it had a mere six months to be developed, but at the same time, the greater complexity means it doesn’t have the simple appeal of DQ1, and the improvements are still well behind what DQ3 did, and that’s not even considering the problems within DQ2 itself. Unsurprisingly, it’s easily the least popular of the original trilogy, and one of the most obscure of the main games. Still, I tried to give it a fair chance, so let’s get into it now. Story: After defeating the Dragonlord, the Hero set out with Princess Gwaelin to discover lands away from Alefgard, eventually resulting in the founding of three different kingdoms, spread out between the landmass of Torland: Middenhall, Cannock, and Moonbroke, all ruled by descendants of the Hero. After 100 years of peace, however, Moonbroke Castle is attacked and destroyed by the forces of Hargon, an evil sorcerer and cultist seeking to destroy the world by summoning Malroth, the god of destruction. Though the king of Moonbrooke is killed in the attack, the princess of Moonbrooke escapes, as well as a lone soldier, who travels to Middenhall Castle and informs the king of Hargon’s attack and ambitions before succumbing to his wounds. As the king of Middenhall is too old to stop Hargon himself, he instead tasks his young son to join up with his cousins, the prince of Cannock and princess of Moonbrooke, so that they may fight Hargon together. Thus, the prince of Middenhall ventures out, to live up to the legacy of both Erdrick and the Hero.

It’s really not much more plot than the original, and while the game is a good deal longer and has more mandatory locations, it still doesn’t really have anything that could be called a defined plot, so much as just going through towns and dungeons for whatever plot item will let you into the next area. It does have the “twist” of Malroth ending up as the final boss instead of Hargon, but Malroth’s existence is only mentioned offhandedly in the opening before said event, so it’s ultimately just another thing that’s hard to appreciate past the era the game first came out. There’s really not much more to say, so let’s just move on.

Gameplay: The gameplay of Dragon Quest II is very similar to its predecessor. You go out onto the world map, grinding for EXP and gold, going between towns and traversing dungeons as needed. The big toss up is the party system. Instead of only having one party member, you gain a total of three early in the game: the prince of Middenhall, who I shall refer to as the Hero, the prince of Cannock, who shall be referred to as the Prince, and the princess of Moonbrooke, who shall be referred to as the Princess. Each character has different attributes; the Hero has access to every piece of the equipment in the game, with the best equipment in the game being exclusive to him, such as the Thunderbolt Blade and Erdrick’s equipment. He also has the best physical stats, such as HP and strength, and is in general an extremely effective physical attacker and tank, with the trade off of not having any access to magic, being the only hero in the series with this drawback. The Prince is a generalist, with a variety of magic, mostly supportive, and being capable of equipping most of the equipment in the game, making him an effective support character in each role. Lastly, the Princess has terrible physical stats, and has access to the least equipment, but learns much more potent spells, in particular having access to the best healing and attack spells in the game. It’s basic, but an effective change up from the first game.

To compensate for having more party members, enemies are now capable of appearing in groups, with certain formations resulting in as many as 7 enemies in one battle, though only specific types of enemies can achieve this, as bigger and tougher enemies seem to occupy more slots. Enemies also have access to a wider variety of magic and abilities, including being capable of summoning reinforcements mid battle. Status effects, such as poison, are more prominent, and with spells to cure them being among the new additions, along with defense buffs and debuffs, encounters have become a lot more tactical, with you often having to weigh your options to get through effectively. It makes the very prevalent grinding much more interesting, if much more difficult, and difficult is the word of the day, as this game is infamously brutal. Dungeons are much more prevalent, and much more complex, with the layout of some of them reaching spiteful levels of confusing. The limited inventory slots, previously a minor deal, since you could stack most of the important items available, quickly turn into a complicated juggling game, as item stacking has been removed, and key items are much more numerous, limiting the amount of healing you can carry around rather severely. Enemies show up in large groups so frequently that trying to take them out without group wide magic usually gets you smacked around a good deal, and tougher than average enemies will gladly show up in groups as well. The game is even less linear than the original past a point, which can easily lead you to areas you’re in no way supposed to access so early, and worst of all, the game is just plain unbalanced thanks to the rushed development, with the endgame land of Rhone containing enemies terrifyingly, and jarringly, powerful compared to even the dungeon before, being capable of demolishing you with little effort if you aren’t prepared. While the difficulty is more balanced in versions past the NES, with the Prince being given better stats and being able to equip better weapons, after being infamously weak and only being able to use a few weak, early game weapons in the NES version, to attack and the defense affecting spells having more of an effect, in addition to the rebalanced EXP and gold drops that were also in the original. You also have access to the bank, which allows you to store gold and items, and while its use in the first game is questionable, it becomes a lifesaver in this, simplifying the inventory management puzzle the game would be otherwise. It also makes a small, but important change to the final boss, namely removing the ability for it to use Fullheal, which, in the NES version, more or less made defeating it entirely luck based. Despite all this, however, Dragon Quest II is still a grueling experience, and the difficulty is certainly one of the big reasons why Dragon Quest II is obscure compared to other games in the series.

As for other new features and improvements, helmets have been added as an equipment option, though they’re very underutilized, with only 3 being available in the game, 2 of them exclusive to the Hero. Cursed equipment has been expanded past the few accessories in the original that only existed to inconvenience you. Here, they confer the biggest stat bonuses out of all the equipment in the game, on paper, but carry the risking of occasionally paralyzing the user in battle. Enemies are now capable of dropping items, from basic items like herbs, to equipment that could be sold for a decent amount, or even save you having to purchase them in the future, to items that can’t even be found elsewhere, such as the aforementioned cursed equipment, the infamous mad cap, the only helmet the Prince and Princess can equip, which cuts the amount MP needed to cast spells, and the dragon potion, which allows you to save your game anywhere you wish. Speaking of which, instead of only being able to save at the starting castle, many other towns and castles allow you to save your game, not only saving you a significant trek to Middenhall Castle, but allowing you to warp back to them with the Evac spell, which can save a lot of travel time. Most notably, the world map is much larger than the original game, including several different continents and smaller islands, accessible via a boat acquired fairly early in the game, marking the first appearance of transportation in the series. Alefgard is even visitable in a cool instance of continuity, though unfortunately, it’s quite underwhelming, as it is much, much smaller than in the first game, and only four locations that can be visited, with the only significant ones being Tantegel, which has fused with the town of Breconnary, and the remains of Charlock Castle, inhabited by the grandson of the Dragonlord, who, instead of battling the party, offers critical advice instead, in a fairly cool twist for the time.

While the game is certainly bigger and longer than the first game, most of it consists of just sailing around the overly large seas, with most of the locations being visitable as soon as you get the ship, barring the strength of the encounters. While it does give the game a much more open feel, most of what you do is just desperately scrounging for key items, many of which only have use towards the end of the game, and are often found in small, obscure locations. There’s little sense of progression, and very few dungeons manage to feel memorable or significant in any way, not helped the inexplicable lack of any bosses outside of the final dungeon. Sure, there’s a few scripted encounters, but only with enemies that are common within the area, or otherwise nowhere near dangerous enough to justifiably call bosses. While there are a few “quests” you have to do to progress at points, they’re all very short and simple, consisting of things like fighting a rather unthreatening enemy in an arena for the amusement of a king, or traversing a dungeon to grab the Wind Mantle, allowing you to cross to a different part of the continent, with said item never being used again afterwards. This all combines to make most of the game oddly dull, in my opinion, with the difficulty pretty much being the only thing that makes it stand out. As mentioned above, though, the endgame absolutely makes its mark, with the maddeningly confusing Road to Rhone being one of the most infamous dungeons in JRPGs, and the final dungeon, while being extremely simple to navigate, makes up for the lack of bosses elsewhere by having five of them spread out across it. Overall, while Dragon Quest II’s gameplay is technically much more refined than Dragon Quest I, it’s not necessarily much more enjoyable, and most of the time simply dances between repetitive and frustrating.

Graphics: The visuals of Dragon Quest II are, sensibly, about equal to the first game. The character designs do shine through a bit better with the party, and the battle sprites are once again great. Similarly to Final Fantasy II, though, the game does contain some of the weirder enemies to be in the series, such as baboons, giant Venus flytraps, and flying Medusa heads, though at the least, it introduced bubble slimes and liquid metal slimes. It also includes a few neat effects like parallax scrolling in dungeons that take place in high towers.

Music: Once again, the soundtrack is absolutely great, with the highlights being the upbeat town theme, the calm castle theme, the intimidating final boss theme, and especially the world map themes, of which there are two, the melancholic A Lonely Youth, for the earliest part of the games, before you acquire your full party, and the extremely cheerful Traveling With Friends, for once you’ve assembled your party. Even if you have no interest in playing the games, the soundtracks are definitely worth a listen. Conclusion: Overall, I would have to give Dragon Quest I&II a pretty firm not recommended. While they’re not completely unenjoyable, and can be a decent time if you enjoy older RPGs, or are curious about the roots of Dragon Quest, Dragon Quest III and IV are much better options in both regards, not to mention others like Final Fantasy I and III, and the original Mother, as far as NES RPGs go. Still, I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t have fun with them both, in varying amounts, and the remakes certainly make them much easier to digest. Either way, that’s about enough for now. Till next time. -Scout

#dragon quest #SNES #JRPG #square enix #game review #long post

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minniewoos · 5 years ago

Text

By the Stars ➣ Bang Chan

Genre: dystopian au, angst

Word count: 6,014

Warnings: terminal illness, prescription drug abuse, a moody Minho

Summary: The people of Mars live under constant surveillance and constant control; living in awful polluted conditions. Your brother, Jeongin, is sick. To save him you try to escape to Earth, your friend Chan helps you along the way.

The planet breathes smoke and fire.

Smog drifted up in thick, ashen pillars; hundreds of stacks ascending up towards the duel moons. Pinkish ruby skies were dulled to a cinnabar hue, poisoned from the constant outpour of smoke. Exhaust from the pristine cubes dotting the surface of the planet, between the small humble neighborhoods, large, off-white buildings whose purpose was for the ultimate happiness of humanity. People called those buildings the Cubes. It was considered a pleasure to work in them, for them, and for the human race, and you’re reminded of it every time you walk past. “LIVE TO SERVE” was embossed on every one of them. You served humanity, at least the portion who lived on Earth. The Cubes cranked out mass productions of illustrious, high-end products for the people of Earth to use or consume. It was the highest-ranking job on the planet aside from being a part of the royal court.

What is this planet? Well, its called it Mars. Colonized long ago by earthen prisoners. By people who were on death row because of their horrid crimes. Sent here to perform hard labor until their inevitable deaths. Those were your ancestors. But well…that was centuries ago, there have been many generations since the first colonies. Now, you were technically Martians but not really aliens. You were certainly human, and the only purpose in life was to produce luxury products for the people of Earth. But most people don’t seem to mind, this is all you’ve ever known. What a life.

There was constant smoke in the air due to the uncontrolled pollution, and it was the worst down in the trenches. A couple hundred feet below the surface, you lived in these canyons where the sun was hardly seen. And at night when curfew was enforced and the lanterns were blown out, these trenches were like an abyss. Impossible to see and impossible to escape. This is where the poorer citizens lived, aka, you.

But you’re probably the only one who thought of it that way. To your neighbors and friends, it was only a place to sleep before they woke up once more and continued their daily schedules. Your face twisted in disgust at the thought, none of them had a single idea or feeling of their own. And you know it’s not their fault; their heads were dulled with meds while their thoughts were constricted by the constant business your schedules demanded. It was near impossible to think, especially when the king tells everybody what to think. People don’t just live by what he says, they revere him and the people of Earth. It made you sick. It was brainwashing and it was effective.

Your eyes wandered towards the planet’s two moons. The rising Phobos and then to Deimos, as they rise and fall the red skies turn blue before shifting to black. It’s beautiful. But a shame the sight was being choked by the ash in the air, grey specks floating in the sky like always. It was still so ugly, like the black clouds spewing from the Cubes. The nasty pollution was suffocating the once beautiful planet.

“CURFEW IN TEN. I REPEAT, CURFEW IN TEN.” Several guardians stationed around this area of the trenches announced at once, cold mechanic voices resounding off the canyon walls. Their eyes started flashing red to signal the urgency of it, while yours just turned away from them. Guardians, ugly, metallic creatures were basically soldiers who controlled every aspect of life; people were under constant surveillance. It was suffocating. A few stragglers like you were finishing up their tasks and rushing into their homes. And at about five minutes before curfew, everyone’s wrist would start flashing, the last warning.

You sighed as you turned back towards your wagon. You unhooked it from your bike and collected your supplies, the things you didn’t sell, and the things you bought. When you walked inside, you were greeted by the dull lantern light and your brother already lying in his sheets, coughing up a lung. He was only a few years younger than you and the only family you had left. And ever since he came down with sickness, life got much harder and you became the main breadwinner.

“Y/n, you come home later every day.”

A weak smile, “Yea, I know. I’m sorry, Jeongin, but we can’t afford more time.”

“No, I’m sorry. Right now I’m just a burden.” He sat up, coughing as he did so. He shook his head, “I can’t work anymore and I know it’s hard to provide me.”

“Jeongin.” You turned towards him, a serious look settled on your face. “You will never be a burden on me. You are my little brother and I have no problem looking out for you. Come on, lay back down, you know how the guardians get with curfew.”

While putting the supplies away before bed, you tossed the useless meds in the disposal, just as you had been doing for the past several nights. Since you’ve been doing that, your mind cleared up immensely and it was like a blessing. Since then, Jeongin stopped taking the required meds and he’s come to notice more things as well. You’ve both agreed that the meds were given by the king to fog the citizens’ heads to prevent a revolution. But you do try to help his illness, a lung disease caused by the mass pollution on the planet; unfortunately the king provides the medicine for that too, and it doesn’t seem to be helping Jeongin. You’ve known many people to contract the disease, and the survival rate: 5%. Sighing sadly, you finish your nightly routine and make sure to shut the blinds in your tiny, three-room home. You blow the lanterns out, shading the small house in darkness so the Guardians don’t come by. You lay your head on your pillow and your mind went blank, peace.

Exactly 9 hours later, it was morning, you yawned and leaned your head against the wall of your small, wooden stall, stocked with daily portions. If people could afford them, they came and ate, if they couldn’t, then they worked more to afford the food. Another day out working and nothing’s changed with everything relatively the same, except right now, Chan stopped by. A kind boy who worked in the repair shop next door, he visited your food stall often. He gets hungry often, so sometimes you’d slip him an extra ration when you could afford it. You’ve been friends for a while, which you’re glad for. It’s hard to make friends when all you do it eat, sleep, and work. You wake up, leave the trenches, work on the surface, and then go back home to the trenches; so a friend livens up the day. Especially a friend like Chan, who is truly one of a kind. Even when everybody in this society is dulled by the meds, Chan’s light somehow shines through. It’s hard to explain, but he stuck out and was certainly a sight for sore eyes. So you try to make time in the schedules, and it’s easier since he works next door to your rickety food cart.

“You’ve been tired lately, why? Maybe you need a stronger prescription.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he bit into his lunch ration for the day. You frown at the mention of the medication, medication you’ve stopped taking.

You paused for a moment, then shook your head, “No, that’s not it. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Is it Jeongin?”

You nod, a slight irritation bubbling inside of you, “His meds for Soot Lung haven’t helped at all, and then why would the king or the guardians care about him? He’s only a vendor’s sister, barely out of school now. You have no idea how many letters I sent the palace begging for help. Begging Chan. But nothing will change because everything is contaminated on this stupid planet, we can’t even breathe properly!” You slammed a fist down, shifting everything in your little stall. You couldn’t care less, but as for Chan, he gave you a look like you just talked back to the king himself. “What, why do you look so worried?”

“You’re being really emotional,” he stood up and looked down at you, concern written on his face, “are you sure you’re okay. You’ve been acting weird lately anyway.“

You stared at him for a moment, then on a whim, in your lowest voice, you uttered to him, “Do you trust me.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

Chan’s Adam’s apple dipped and he took a shaky breath before nodding, a sure and absolute nod. You purse your lips, you trusted Chan, of course you did. Without him, you wouldn’t know where you would be. He and Jeongin were the only things that were able to bring a smile to your face. Emotions were something undeniably human, and they were being suppressed by the king; without the meds, people would be able to live freely, to think freely. You wanted Chan to experience the same sense of freedom as you have discovered. Your hesitance came with what Chan would think. Chan, just like everyone else, was a slave to this society. Everyone had to work, everyone had to worship the king, and everyone had to think the same. You were the outlier here, but you clasped his hands in yours and looked at him pleadingly.

“Then, my good good friend, please stop taking the meds. Just trust me and for one week…throw them in the disposal. And nobody will know.” You squeezed his hands in yours, from across your stall, and looked at him with a fire he’s probably never witnessed in a single person before. “It’s-It’s like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, like a lock was broken and I can finally express myself. These emotions I’m feeling, they were amplified by ten…! It feels freeing in a way. Those meds suppress us, and they’re used to control us. And sometimes, like now, I want the people around me to experience these emotions as well…”

Chan eyed your face for any sign of lies or jests. And when he found none, his eyes turned fearful, “Y/n…you know that we live to serve the people of Earth. Those emotions you’re feeling are not for us. They aren’t for us as they weren’t for our ancestors.”

“Just one week,” you insisted, your voice low once more, “Try it for one week. Our ancestors’ faults should not be our own. Will you do it?”

Chan paused for one half of a moment, a half a moment of deep thought, then nodded. You took his hand in yours and grinned, as did he. The thought of Chan choosing you, made you overwhelmingly happy. Because as of now, he gave you hope.

∎∎∎

It’s been several nights since then, and you’ve come up with a thought. A crazy, impossible, and life-threatening thought. One purely for Jeongin.

You will go to Earth.

Earth, as you’ve heard, was clean. The sky was a beautiful blue hue. You could breathe and your lungs don’t turn black, you could look up and the sky was clear, and you could even drink from the rivers! Everything was clean on Earth. The air on Earth could clean your brother’s lungs; as you’ve heard, the air itself could heal the planet’s infamous Soot Lung. Soot Lung was very common on the planet, and you’re not sure how many die from it, but Jeongin isn’t going to be one of them. You told Jeongin a couple days ago, and he agreed; you presented the idea to Chan the day after, and he also agreed. Seemingly much more determined and motivated lately, the change was nice, but much more sudden then you expected.

And today between work and curfew, you had only an hour, you would visit a dock worker called Minho. A friend of Chan’s, apparently. And Chan said he’s been a smuggler for a while; never explicitly explained to him, but Chans not dumb, he found it obvious. Jeongin’s condition was worsening by the day and you didn’t have much time left. His breathing was short and faint. If only time had a price, you’d be willing to pay anything for that. But for now, you can only race time. And by the stars, you were sprinting for your lives.

“Are you Minho?” you asked a guy hauling a crate to the end of a dock, he was stocking a shipment to Earth. The massive ship settled at the edge of it, doors open, ready to be filled.

The docks were not by water or contained the boats used on Earth. Mars has no need for large bodies of waters, or rains, or any precipitation. The only snow you receive is the dusty, black, yet gentle ash floating in the atmosphere. Instead, the docks were filled with large spaceships ready for takeoff into the cosmos. And the dock workers simply loaded the shipments up and sent the valuable goods off to Earth. But, if you were clever, you could take advantage of the low-ranking job and smuggle a thing or two to make some extra cash. Maybe a couple tablets of Ecstasy or a bottle of Pleasure, whatever it takes to live a bit comfier. Some even snuck people onto the ships to go to Earth, those were the people with nothing to lose…or a death wish. Of course, if you get caught, you disappear immediately. The king had a no tolerance policy with this planet.

But as you surveyed this guy in front of you, a man in his early twenties at best, you wouldn’t have had the tiniest suspicion he’d be involved in such illegal activities. He looked virtually harmless with a fair complexion and a small, round face. He was a dock worker and lugged boxes and crates all day, but he was slim and lean, not at all what you expected from a supposed smuggler. But to his credit, his eyes were sharp, steely, and wise; it gave you some comfort in the reliability he exuded.

“What about it?” he snapped at me, and you were taken aback by the harshness. The tone contradicting his soft features.

“Chan told me about you, we want to make it to Earth-”

“Shut it!” He slaps a hand over your mouth before you could continue, “If you want to leave, the dock is the last place to talk about this. There are guardians everywhere.”

You pulled his hand off your mouth, “Fine, when can we talk?”

He scowled, “Depends on the pay and if you’re dumb or not. But guessing from your introduction, you’re not the brightest.”

Your bit back a retaliation and pulled out your bag of coins, “This is all I have, please my brothers really sick.”

Minho only scoffed, “That’s not enough for a tablet of Ecstasy. This whole crate is worth more than your life. Come back when you’re not going to waste my time.” he turned his back to you. He continued to haul the crates onto the ship. You felt the blood rushing to your face; you couldn’t tell if that meant anger or embarrassment, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Then how bout this?” A bag full of coins was thrown at Minho’s feet, probably valued over thrice the amount you offered. And it was Chans. you turned around and almost yelled at him, but you held back to try to keep control. So you simply asked, “Why are you here?”

“I’m the one who recommended him to you, you think I’m not going too?” Chan said, undeniably sure of himself. He worked a higher-paying job than you, and didn’t have to spend as much. It only made sense for him to have more money than you did, but it wasn’t as much as the people who worked in the Cubes made. And even though he was your good friend, you didn’t want him going and risking his life.

You could feel the blood rising again, there was no way you’d let yourself be the reason for a possible death. And death was very possible. If Chan died, you’d have that guilt on your shoulders forever. You didn’t care about yourself; this was for Jeongin, and this is your last resort. Meanwhile, Minho looked from coins to Chan, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Fine, but the only reason I’m taking you is because of Chan; I can do it.” Minho said, picking up the bag of coins. He side-glanced you, “And he seems to have some common-sense.”

“Thanks, Minho, we won’t be a problem.” Chan said gratefully, a small smile curving the corners of his lips.

“I believe you won’t be the problem,” Minho said harshly then nodded at you, “don’t let them ruin this.”

Chan looked at you, then only nodded towards Minho.

“Now get out of here before we all disappear.”

You huffed on the way home to the trenches with Chan, he only snickered at you; he was amused. You sent a displeased look his way and crossed your arms. You and Chan fell into step together over the red terrain and under your setting sun. The normally red skies began fading to a light, beautiful blue hue as your sun was going to sleep. It was a beautiful sight. Still, simultaneously and wordlessly, you quickened your pace, dreading the possibility of being late to curfew. You and Chan were virtually alone on the quaint road; although there were a couple other stragglers and a few guardians stationed at their posts, It felt as though you were the only two people at this moment. It was then where he nudged your hand with his before slipping it into yours, lacing and locking your hands together. Although a simple moment, a walk home at sunset, your chest bloomed and warmed as a certain feeling spread throughout it. It was cozy, and snug, and secure, and- and safe. In that moment, a feeling you can’t recall experiencing before; many feelings you hadn’t experienced before. You glanced at Chan, and so did he; you squeezed his hand fondly, and so did he.

It was quiet the rest of the walk, but peaceful. Then you arrive at the trench entrance, a rickety old lift that carried passengers to the bottom. Before you let go of his hand to board the creaky lift, you had a sudden urge. You began to get nervous and shy, blood rushed to your cheeks and they became red; it was an unusual feeling you had. You never felt it before, but the more you stared at Chan, the more nervous you became. You unconsciously swallowed. And before the uncomfortable feeling became any stronger, you suddenly leaned in closer, placing a kiss against his lips. It was impulsive and spontaenous but spoke things that words couldn’t.

Shock and a stillness, but Chan soon reciprocated and kissed back as that feeling from before exploded in your chest. And it only elevated as Chan wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you close. It felt unreal, and kind of magical. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you were feeling, it was love.

You’ve only ever heard of the feeling, and you’ve certainly loved before, but it wasn’t as intense and raw as this moment. And as you looked at Chan, his eyes said the same thing. His cheeks were blushing red and it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Chan…” You whispered, his shirt in your clenched hands, not wanting to let go.

“…yes?”

“I-” you paused, but only for a second, “I love you.”

The smile that broke across his face could only be described as warm, loving, and very very happy. His arms tightened around you and he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on you. “I love you too, y/n. God, I’ve never felt this happy before.”

“Me too,” You smiled joyously.

After another moment together, you said your farewells and waved goodbye as the lift descended. The reluctance to say goodbye was clear, but it was necessary. The Guardians were strict. And Chan didn’t live in the trenches, he lived above ground. Better conditions but less freedom, if any.

“Get home safe.” You called out to him, and he smiled at you.

∎∎∎

It was five days, five days with absolutely no word from Chan. He hasn’t been at work; he hasn’t been seen or heard of from anybody. And your mind could only go to the worse. You made him late for curfew. That had to be the reason. And just thinking about that made your heart sink. If the guardians caught Chan then, who knows what they would do to him; they would find out he wasn’t taking his meds and the punishment for that is… You shook your head, but the thoughts still didn’t disappear. It devastated you, Chan has become a part of your daily routine and not seeing him for days worried you to no end, especially after what happened.

But you still planned on making it to Earth with Jeongin. He’s been overcome by lassitude for a while now, and you can’t wait any longer. No matter how much it broke you.

“Hey- Y/n.” you heard Jeongin say weakly.

“Oh, yes?”

“When are we going to Earth? Where’s that guy you spoke of.”

“We’re leaving soon, I talked and arranged everything. And…” you tried swallowing a lump in your throat, then a voice crack, “I… I don’t know. Jeongin, I have no idea where he is.”

“Did you treasure him…?” Meekly and innocently, Jeongin looked at you, his wide eyes bright as he already knew the answer. But the simple inquiry was enough to set a switch off; everything inside yourself you tried to compose leaked out.

Your eyes began to burn as tears welled up and brimmed on your eyes. You sniffed, took a great, shaky breath in, then out. You looked at Jeongin, a pained smile etched itself onto your face, he’s the only one you have now. Your beloved little brother, and even he’s about to be taken right from you if you don’t act soon.

“That man’s name was Chan, and-and he was warm and kind and gentle. He was smart, too; he might not have looked like it though. He took care of me when I refused to take care of myself…and I like to think I did the same for him. Chan was my only friend on our planet. Our ugly, vile, corrupt planet filled to the brim with depravity.” Before you knew it, your despair over Chan soon morphed into a wave of anger over the foul system that took him from you.

“With a king who treats us like cogs in a machine; slaves to him and slaves to Earth. And the worst of it, nobody else sees the awful state they are forced to be in. Meds meds meds. They pump fog into your mind and force meaningless smiles onto your faces; a fake contentedness that’s truly quite eerie. A planet full of suppressed emotions; there exists no anger, no love, no hope, no sorrow. No nothing! Nothing! We are thrown into schooling as soon as possible to only learn to be servants. Well, I don’t want to be a servant! I want these emotions, no matter how painful I want to feel. Jeongin, in school, you learned about emotions the people on Earth feel, right? Well, without the goddamned meds, we feel those as well; that’s what they don’t teach you huh.” you laughed bitterly; you frantically tapped your fingers against your table.

The king throws all the children into school at around four years old, and I’ve heard it’s younger if you live in the upper classes. But all they do is teach you how to “live to serve.” They show the history of your planet and the superiority the people of Earth have over us due to your ancestors’ faults. That’s the only story your children will ever hear, it’s drilled into you. Your children never get approbation or praise for any achievements made; they don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve the luxury of fables or fairy tales, that’s reserved for the people of Earth. At the age of sixteen, you’re assigned a role to play in society and thrown out into the world. And you were assigned to be a simple vendor. A measly food vendor to sell small rations to those who could afford it. Jeongin, while having a better job than you, still didn’t get paid much as an entertainer for the royal court. He used to sing for them and they loved his unique voice, how ironic he contracted Soot Lung.

You sighed and helped Jeongin stand up, he leaned against you, “Okay Jeongin, we’re going now.”

“Y/n,” He coughed before leaning against you once more for support, “We will get through this together. You are one of the strongest people I know. You’re my big sister. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Jeongin flashed his bright signature smile, a smile that never failed to brighten your mood. And you smiled back with his words, words that gave you confidence. You made your way to the docks, determined to keep Jeongin safe.

When you arrived at the meeting spot near the docks but away from prying eyes, you were surprised to see two other people there with Minho. They were a couple, a boy and a girl. You looked at Minho inquisitively.

“Don’t give me that look, you’re all going to Earth. Just follow my instructions, and don’t be dumb.” He announced to you, glanced at Jeongin, then added, “I’ll be joining this time.”

“You’re going too?“

Minho nodded, “We all have our reasons to escape this hell. I’m going to take these two to a separate ship, it may take a while so just wait here in the meantime.”

You nodded and so did Jeongin, but before he left, he paused and turned to you specifically.

“I’ll send Chan over to you to wait with you. Okay?” Minho whispered, as casual as he could be, as if it were no big deal to you. But your eyes nearly bugged out of your head with how wide they got, the news was sudden and completely unexpected. You went into this believing Chan was unreachable, taken away from you by the Guardians. But here Minho was, Chan’s friend, telling you that Chan was alive?

“Wh-what?” you stammered dumbly.

“I’m sending Chan over.” Minho repeated, starting to get annoyed.

“He’s okay? Really? I haven’t seen him in days, oh god, I was so worried. Minho, are you being serious?” You rambled on, the anxiety from missing Chan was being let go now.

“Yes.” Minho snapped, “Now be quiet and stay here. Nobody will find you guys. And Chan can explain things to you.”

And with that Minho left with the other two stowaways, and you huffed, slightly annoyed by his snappy attitude. But that was quickly forgotten at the thought of seeing Chan again.

Jeongin smiled as the two of you sat in a small hidden space, “Now I get to see that boyfriend of yours.”

A blush crawled up your neck and your glared at Jeongin, embarrassed, “He’s not my boyfriend, come on, don’t tease me.”

“Ah but you’re blushing y/n.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ah shut up!”

Jeongin’s devilish smile was back and you were pouting at him, he never let the opportunity to tease you go. You shook your head at him and was thinking of something to say when Jeongins smile dropped a slightly, but then came back brighter than before. You figured he found pleasure in your suffering.

“What do you think of Chan?” He asked, his eyes wandering to look behind you.

“Ah come on, you know the answer to that already Jeongin, stop teasing.” You whined, and then followed his gaze and looked behind you. Your breath seemed to halt. Because there stood Chan, a smile on his face as you locked eyes with him. You mirrored him and stood up immediately. Relief flooded through you to see him for yourself, “You’re okay!”

“Of course I am, you can’t get rid of me that easy.” He smiled, and opened his arms to hug you, which you gladly accepted and practically tackled him in a hug. But he barely budged and just wrapped his arms around you and a big, comforting embrace. You rested your head on him, closing your eyes and smiling in that moment.

“I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“Yea, but I still missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Yuck.” Jeongin had enough of the very visible displays of cheesy affection from you two and audibly voiced his distaste. “Not in front of me please.”

You looked at Jeongin and stuck your tongue out at him childishly, mocking him. He just mirrored your actions, mocking you. Meanwhile, Chan laughed softly, humored by the sibling interactions. You suddenly realized, this is Chans first time meeting your brother.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, then put a hand over your mouth, realizing you should be quiet. Then continued in a softer tone, “Chan, this is Jeongin. Jeongin, this is Chan.”

Jeongin stood up, albeit slowly, and held out a hand to greet Chan. Which Chan took confidently, a smile on his face since he was finally able to meet the brother you cared so much for. Jeongin cast a playful glare, “Be careful with her, she’s hard to handle.”

“Hey.” You pouted, offended.

“Yea, I know, I’m used to it.”

“Hey!” You smacked Chan’s arm.

He laughed, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, only teasing you. You leaned into him and looked at him seriously, “Hey…so you have some explaining to do.”

“Ah, yea… I do.” Chan hesitated, then went to sit down next to Jeongin and you followed him. “I’m not hurt, so you don’t have to worry.”

You nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Well, I was late for curfew, only barely. I was on my street when curfew passed and a Guardian had caught me. I was taken to some holding cell and just kinda sat there for a day, but eventually they came back.” Chan’s eyebrows furrowed and he stared at the ground as he continued. “They came back to give me my daily meds, but I only pretended to take them. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me, actually. But they drew some blood from me, and well, they found out I wasn’t taking the meds… They almost killed me-but I’m okay!”

Chan quickly reassured once more, looking to you and knowing how worried you must’ve been, he didn’t want to add more stress. “The cells were old, since they barely hold anybody in them, and there was a broken lock so I was able to escape. But I couldn’t just go back to normal life, I’d be punished by death. So, well, I went to Minho…he wasn’t happy. But he helped me hide out till now.” Chan laughed awkwardly, grateful for his agitated friend. He was still staring at the ground, nodding his head as if to confirm what he experienced was real.

“How did you and Minho become friends?” Jeongin asked, confused how two completely different people got along.

“We’ve known each other since really little, we talked more than others so we got along naturally. People change over the years, but, we still get along quite well.” Chan explained with a small smile. He then looked up to see Minho walking up to you guy, “Speak of the devil.”

“Talking about me, I see.” Minho said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Let’s go, get up quick, the faster we are the better our chances are.”

You and Chan supported Jeongin as Minho lead all of you through a maze of crates, and eventually into the loading dock. It was quite secluded and you were the only ones there, for now. Minho was ahead of the group by a few paces, leading the way to a couple large crates. He cracked two open, revealing they were only half filled with the luxury goods, and looked back at the group. But your attention was at the ship taking off, already a good three-hundred feet in the sky heading towards Earth. The boys followed your gaze towards the spaceship.

“That’s the ship the other couple were on, I believe that’s going to some place in the Americas. A nice couple actually, their story was similar to yours.” Minho explained, then looked at you and Chan. “I heard the Americas are one of the richer places to be on Earth, but anywhere on Earth is better than anywhere on here. I really do hope the best for-”

Minho’s moment of sentiment was abruptly cut off as a huge explosion shook the atmosphere. You gasped in horror and looked towards the source, it was the ship, the same one the couple from before were on. And it was already in shambles, pieces flying down from the sky in flaming chunks. You were confused on how that happened until you was a rocket fly towards it, and explode when it came into contact with a larger chunk of the ship. It broke into smaller pieces as well, essentially guaranteeing the destruction of anything aboard that ship. Minho hissed in enraged panic, sucking in a large breath before pushing the crates onto the ship you were about the board.

“Follow me in!” He yelled, urgent and loading the cargo without haste. None of you hesitated to follow directions. Minho wasted no time in loading the rest of the cargo that was needed, it seemed like this was the last load needed for this shipment to Earth. Minho swore and rambled, “Whenever the king finds out about stowaways, he just blows up the entire fucking ship. Jackass doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

He closed the large door for the ship, then did some security measures before leading the three of you towards the two half-empty crates from before.

“I have buddies on Earth who will help once we land, Earth doesn’t condone what goes on here on Mars, but nearly no media coverage is on it. But they accept refugees, thankfully. Chan and y/n in that crate.” Minho pointed to one, then to the other, “Jeongin and me in this one. You two get in first and I’ll seal the crate.”

“Wait…the king doesn’t know about us??” You asked frantically, “What happens to us?”

“It’s either we take this risk or we die anyway.” Minho frowned, “This is better than continuing to live in this hellhole.”

You looked down for a moment, then to Jeongin and nodded. Agreeing with Minho. Whatever happens, happens.

You smiled at Jeongin, “I’ll see you on the other side buddy.”

“You better greet me with a smile.” He smiled back at you as you climbed into the crate with Chan, a tight fit, but a fit nonetheless. Minho grimly shut and sealed the crate, leaving the closed space in darkness with the exception of a few holes poking light through.

Chan held you close as you all waited to see what your fates were, but whatever they were at this point, they would be better than before. You and Chan spoke no words as you listened to Minho seal the crate beside you, and then silence. Your heart wouldn’t settle no matter how hard you tried to calm down. But all you could do was sit and wait; wait for what felt like an hour until the ship finally began to rumble. Chan held your hand and held you close, your head resting on his shoulder in that solemn moment. Liftoff.

a/n: so, hope you enjoyed :)

I wrote this for class sometime last year and it’s just been sitting in my docs since. I liked the idea so I took it, heavily edited it, and here it is now. It’s still a little eh some parts, but I hope y’all like it. Also thought it was a fitting story cause of Astronaut dropping recently

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