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elioslover · 2 years

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Grapejuice (fic) Part One

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember. But she still refuses to see him as anything other than her brothers goofy obnoxious bestie omg omg loads of pining and sexual tension (even more sexy sex) and ofc angsty angst.

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Smutty suggestions, drug/alcohol use, mind-blowing banter.

Part Two / Part Three

Fashion Board

Masterlist

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The soft thumps of music muffled behind the apartment door were audible the moment you reached the last step of your ascent, arriving on the third floor of the new apartment block your brother, Jack, had recently moved into. It was sweet of him to wait until you were back in town before hosting the house-warming party.

You stopped briefly, taking one final look in the grand, gold-framed mirror- touching up your cherry gloss as an afterthought. The building was impressive- completely out of your price range, and quite a statement buying the penthouse- well you thought so anyway, but as you had reminded yourself, at least it wasn’t your money.

The hallway was empty, aside from a small hardwood table, elegantly decorated with a vase of marvellous, and surprisinglyrealwhite lilies. At the end of the lengthy passageway- walls tiled in deep ocean green, marbled floors- was an elevator, complete with an old-school golden gate, and totally unnecessary.

“Just take the bloody stairs” you mumbled, approaching the front door.

You had hardly knocked once before the heavy wood swung open, your brother- cheeks rosy, eyes glassy but glimmering- was standing on the other side.

He let out a sort-of cheer, arms raising before he fully engulfed you, lifting you off of your feet. You had seen him only a month ago, but if he had had it his way, Jack would have you both remain attached at the hip- as you had been almost your entire lives.

He put you back down, pressing a brisk kiss to your forehead and thanking you for coming,

“It really wouldn’t have been the same without you here,” he said, slinging an arm loosely across your shoulder, pulling you into the entrance hall of his…penthouse.

Your eyes were darting across the room, taking in the style, size and of course judging his choice of paintings- hung on almost every available wall. Jack led you through the house, giving a half-hearted house tour on your way to the kitchen.

It was by far your favourite room so far, decorated in pale baby blue with white cabinets and an island that was, perhaps the size of your entire kitchen put together. Nevertheless, it was the bar that really caught your attention- though it was barely visible under an array of what looked like crystal-glasses, a variety of expensive bottles and fresh-cut fruit.

Before you had even fully stepped into the kitchen, your brother was whisked away by the mention of the delivery guy arriving. “Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder, and without hesitation you made your way over to the countertop, fixed on the idea of a G & T complete with those irresistible blueberries.

You had all but finished the final touches on your mix, humming along to a familiar song spilling through the speakers- when the sudden warmth of something- no- someone’s breath on the back of your neck sent contradicting goosebumps up your arms and spine.

“Fancy seeing you here”, his voice was deep and familiar, fresh mint filling your senses.

He leaned into you slightly, bringing you to your senses. You intended to remain unbothered, going back to garnishing your drink with juicy berries. You took a lengthy sip, closing your eyes momentarily before turning around to face him.

He took a small step back in order to see you better, letting his gaze flicker shamelessly over you, taking a second to admire the way you looked,

“I could say the same about you” the mere sound of your voice drew his attention back, a cheeky smile growing wider by the second,

“Is this the part where you make fun of my lifestyle? Y’know, rag on me about drinking too much… smoking too much…. fucking…” he was beaming proudly now, eyes never leaving yours in anticipation,

“…too much? I would never,” you feigned disapproval, adding an eyeroll as you took another sip of your drink, hummed with satisfaction.

He tilted his head back with a slight chuckle, the corners of his eyes creasing with pleasure,

“Oh, how I missed this,” he teased, “Always good to see you, Y/n” he meant that part.

“Likewise, Harry” you tended to your drink once more.

He mimicked, taking a long sip of the glass of scotch wrapped firmly in his hand and you took the opportunity to actually take him in. He had been dressing better lately, and thank god for that you had thought. Harry had even started to impress you with certain ensembles- not that you would ever make him aware of that.

He wore a tight, but comfy burnt orange and purple tee-shirt. He paired it with a pair of low-rise, faded denim jeans that flared at the calves, and were rather well-fitted. His classic trademark of several rings decorated his hands, and a gold, tennis-link necklace lay across his chest.

He looked good. Annoyingly so.

It had become one of the things you dreaded about coming home- the confusing thoughts plaguing your clarity over the last couple years was well, sheer madness. What had he done differently to his hair? It suited him, short overall but slightly longer at the top, styled up and out of his face. It framed his eyes... his jawbone… his entire face really.

None of this made him any less annoying though, which was the only saving grace. You feared what would have already happened between you two otherwise.

Harry was your brothers oldest, and best friend- they met the afternoon your family moved next door to the Styles’ and the two had instantly bonded over their love for football. And even now, though they lived very different and separate lives, they were as close as ever- annoyingly close. Unfortunately for you this meant dealing with your brother- times two- and there was rarely an occasion where Harry didn’t turn up at one point or another.

Though he was terribly sweet, the Harry from your childhood lacked a filter, and had far too much energy to spare. You were only a few years older than them, but Harry seemed to have no off-switch, and it was hard not to engage in trivial arguments with him. Jack was no help either, always encouraging and taking pleasure in seeing you get so riled up.

When you got older things had changed slightly, and Harry was far less insufferable than before- though he still showered you in attention, most of it stirring the same negative reaction you expressed as a child.

To make matters worse, Harry had never kept quiet about his attraction for you. You were his best friends’ hot older sister after all. In Harry’s opinion, you got prettier each year- and he rather enjoyed making sure you knew this. And you always responded the same, with a scoff and an eyeroll.

Your thoughts had already started to wander and you were somewhat grateful Harry broke the short silence before you could continue,

“How long have you been back in town?”

“Since Sunday,” you swallowed another sip of your drink.

His brows furrowed slightly, “Jack didn’t mention you were back.”

You shrugged his statement off, “Speaking of Jack, I have my reservations but overall, I do quite enjoy the apartment,” his slight furrow warped into raised curiosity, “though I can’t imagine the size makes sense for one person” you added as an afterthought.

“Then it’s a good thing he isn’t living alone,” he said simply.

It was your turn to let your brows furrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

“I’m living here too. There’s three bedrooms, it made sense,” he shrugged before sipping his beer.

You straightened up, “And I assume you stay here when you aren’t out galivanting across Europe, or LA or whatever?” you were being testy.

He placed his hand over his heart, “Ouch klutz, you know it hurts me when you trivialise my profession,” he was only half joking.

You rolled your eyes, “Well don’t take it to heart, apparently Jack doesn’t tell either of us much.”

Harry was full of mixed emotions - he had been from the moment he stumbled upon you in the kitchen, your back to him. He almost walked straight past you, stopping in his tracks the moments those familiar custom black and white Docs adorning your feet caught his attention.

His frustration only grew when he finally got a proper look at you. You wore straight-legged black jeans that you paired with an abstract black and white knitted sweater. A couple silver chains lay across your neck- they matched perfectly with the pair of large, hooped earrings and bracelets you wore.

Your hair was pinned away from your face, lest a few loose strands. Harry liked you this way, he could see your face with clarity, and he was certain you were nothing short of beautiful. Your lips were slick and glossy from the remnants of gin and tonic, and they looked awfully tasty.

Longing was mixed with confusion now, disappointed that he felt so ill-equipped in your presence, completely unaware of your attendance this evening. Harry’s mind was beginning to race, thinking about all of the things he could have- would have done differently. For starters he might have put more than two minutes into picking out an outfit. A sudden wave of insecurity flushed over him and he was praying you wouldn’t notice.

Any sign of confidence had momentarily dissipated, and Harry felt like a foolish teenager all over again, hopelessly pining over a woman who hardly ever paid him any attention.

He was more than grateful that Jack chose that very moment to reappear, going on about how the delivery guy had attempted to short-change him, before he grabbed a new bottle of beer and took a large gulp. Within a moment Jack was mid-discussion with you about his experience in the new neighbourhood so far.

Harry tried his hardest to keep his gaze from focusing on your features, letting his eyes roam the many familiar faces of guests nearby. But he faltered several times, settling on the way your eyelashes fluttered, or how the chunky ring on your thumb fit you just right.

He was so distracted he almost missed Jack asking him if he had heard what had just been said, for the second time now, mind you.

“I was saying it completely slipped my mind- forgot to even mention Y/n would be visiting this week.”

Harry mustered up a scoff before finishing off the last of his drink,

“Absolutely guttered over it, honestly mate” Harry feigned disappointment while glancing over at you,

“You know the ache in my heart for Y/n needs to be soothed, it’s simply selfish you would attempt to keep us apart.”

Jack only let out a bellowing laugh and nudged your shoulder with his own.

Though you found Harry more than attractive, you were also aware that the same thoughts always followed your admiration, you still saw him as your baby brothers’ best friend, goofy yet cocky, but all bark and no bite- surely.

The idea of him being a compatible lover was to a large degree, incomprehensible. Nevertheless, you did thoroughly enjoy Harry, at times, grateful that age had brough him more stability than just good looks.

“Oh, but Harry, as I’ve told you on numerous occasions, you would hardly be able to handle me.” You were playful, familiar teasing, but some truth still rang through.

His face changed, and then his stature followed suit. He leaned forward, his voice deepening, and his gaze remaining on you and you alone,

“I think we both know that’s not true.” And there he was again, as annoying, and full of cheek as ever.

Your eyes quickly darted over to Jack, his attention already straying elsewhere, then you turned your attention back to Harry, scoffing but working hard to remain unbothered.

“Well, uh, this is my… cue to mingle… I guess,” you nodded in their general direction before turning on your heels, leaving Harry with the same view of your back as before.

🍷

Harry remembers the first shot, and the second, but things were becoming less coherent after the third and fourth. He had a habit of overthinking these days, somewhere between the last breakup and the new album release, it had become far too easy for his thoughts to start spiralling- and by cruel repetition, you were once again the reason for his head being a million miles away from this party.

Speaking of, Harry had yet to see you again since your brief encounter in the kitchen- granted this is where Harry had remained the entire evening so far. He assumed you had to return, eventually, for a drink top-up, at the least.

He let the tequila slosh in his mouth for a moment before allowing it to burn its way down his throat. Still in his own head, no plans of leaving any time soon.

“Harry!” he could hear Jack calling from somewhere in the apartment.

He began following in the general direction, stepping into the crowded living room. Jack’s face lit up in an instant, pushing gently past a few people to get to him.

“Hey, where did you disappear to?” he asked, but hardly gave pause for Harry to respond before he was guiding the two of them through the mass of people out towards the balcony.

At first, he was resistant, but that was soon replaced with a hundred different feelings all at once when he spotted that you were already outside, your back leaning against the balcony’s railing- a Marlboro perched neatly between two fingers.

He was indulging in the idea of you once more, thinking back to the several fantasies he had always so ambitiously cast you as the main character in. You were always so cool, so calm, and collected, and well-defined. He had wanted to be more like you, to be with you.

Harry had always looked at you like he knew your secret- like he was somehow aware of how naughty your really were- hiding under the sly juxtaposition of a hard-working, put-together, golden-child. He could hardly recall this version of you nowadays, after the things he had heard you say- to him and about him.

Harry was more than grateful that Jack had already started walking towards you, giving him the needed excuse to speak to you again. He was hardly subtle with the way he was looking at you, so much so that you felt the need to draw attention to the man standing beside you.

Had he always been standing there?

Harry hardly flinched though, and if he had felt some type of way about it, he didn’t let it show on his face. Instead, he took another step forward before directing you,

“Looks like some things never change,” he knew you weren’t fond of his constant referencing of the past.

“Fuck off,” You responded with an eyeroll, taking a drag as he continued,

“You’re the splitting image- I mean minus the septum piercing, and the douchey boyfriend… well…” he glanced briefly, but noticeably at the blandly dressed guy still lingering by your side.

“Fuck you,” your tone was still playful though.

“Yeah? Been on my mind since I can remember.”

“Bet?”

“On my life,” he was careless with the wink he directed at you.

Harry would be lying if he said the thought of you being disinterested in him still crossed his mind, you were clearly humouring someone else this evening. The man next to you looked to be older than Harry, and like he worked some preppy nine-to-five. Surely nothing that could possibly catch your interest.

You were full of personality, intrigued and interested in so many things – Harry often accepted he could hardly keep up with you, but he was still certain the two of you had potential -not including the things he would let you do to him should you pay him even the slightest bit of attention.

He wanted to make a move, he always wanted to- but you were so beyond his reach- older and completely unwilling to acknowledge the fact that yes, he may still be irksome, but he was definitely not a young boy anymore.

Harry no longer wanted to get under your skin, but he would gladly settle to at least get under your garments. He was certain that if you were to, for just a moment, entertain the idea of you and him, he was sure to change your mind.

The guy to the left of you was particularly unmemorable, at least in your opinion, but it was better than standing and smoking alone. And you knew the tiniest part of you had been relieved, but only because you were aware it would annoy Harry - and you took almost any opportunity to do such.

Harry- who you hadn’t seen the entire evening - and don’t think you hadn’t acknowledged how bizarre it was of you to even notice that.

Naturally, you could and would never go looking for him- what reason would you even have to talk to him?

Nevertheless, you reached over and passed him your cigarette, an old habit that only registered when he met you in the middle, accepting your offer in a heartbeat.

Harry could hardly forget your little routine of bumming smokes together, hiding behind walls and bushes, afraid someone would catch you two in the act. There was a mutual sense of mischief and fondness- it was a time Harry could say with certainty that you definitely enjoyed his company- even seeking him out before sneaking through the back door, always ensuring he was by your side.

Everything about this evening was so out-of-character, from how calm Harry was - usually so full of boyishness fuelled by alcohol- down to how attractive you found it when a thick cloud of smoke slipped past his puckered lips, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion- what the fuck was happening?

You definitely needed another drink, suddenly remembering the half-empty bottle of Cirocque your date had pinched from the kitchen long before starting a conversation with you.

You had long forgotten the need for a glass and were already on your third sip, careful not to let any of the expensive liquid slip past your lips.

“Classy” Harry all but scoffed.

You stopped, the bottle leaving your lips with a soft squeak,

“Suddenly you don’t enjoy the idea of me being sloppy?”

You didn’t even bother looking at him, moving instinctively closer to Nick... was that his name? If Harry had wanted to say something he didn’t, thoughts of you being sloppy, slobbering for him were far too much to ignore.

Jack was filling the awkward silence by asking your ‘company’ several questions, which to Harry’s dismay, Nick was rather eager to answer.

“I actually bumped into her tonight, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to strike up a conversation, and thankfully she didn’t seem to mind,” he laughed, but it oozed gawkiness, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted towards you looking for confirmation.

You forced a soft laugh but felt nothing for the man in general, he was good looking enough, and money probably wasn’t an issue for him, but saying you found him boring would have been an understatement.

Still, Harry was quick to resume irking you. He got under your skin in almost an instant, and you were always left a frustrated mess. He opened his mouth, ready to share a snarky remark, when the guy’s phone started ringing. He apologised briefly before stepping aside- but not before saying- and Harry couldn’t believe it,

“Ex-squeeze me for a moment.”

Your eyes went wide with the ick, and Harry was hardly subtle when he giggled and stole the empty space next to you.

Harry shifted to face you, meeting your side-profile before stating matter-of-factly,

“I couldn’t imagine you putting up with that kind of boredom, you should quit while you’re ahead.”

“And what exactly does your opinion have to do with anything? Considering you can’t speak from experience,” you huffed.

“Not from a lack of trying-”

“-but rather from my lack of interest,” you finished for him.

Harry was grateful that Jack had lost interest the minute it looked like you guys were starting to squabble, he wasn’t even facing you anymore.

“Think you’re missing out though.” Harry was uncertain about almost everything in life, but not about the idea of being with you.

“Have we not had this conversation before? And didn’t it end with me saying something like, ‘No Harry, I’m not interested in one measly round of missionary that leaves me nothing but dissatisfied.’”

Harry wanted to disagree, to give you a vivid idea of the things he would do to you right now just to prove you wrong- he would ensure he fucked you so good there could be no round two. But he knew that wasn’t the way to go about things.

Instead, he simply said,

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions.”

You rolled your eyes, and stood up straight now, turning to him sternly,

“For your sake, I surely hope assuming is as good as the real thing,” tapping his chest condescendingly before you turned on your heels and headed back inside the party and away from Harry.

🍷

You hadn’t seen Harry so moody in years. He seemed to have no interest in partaking in the ongoing festivities. In fact, he was brooding in the corner of the kitchen, back pressed firmly against the wall. He was deep in thought, brows furrowed, jaw slightly clenched.

His hair was starting to look slightly dishevelled, from all the times he had ran his hands through it. He was looking good though. You decided he would look perfect underneath you, or perhaps even looking up at you.

But you quickly, and aggressively, shook your head, trying to eradicate these inappropriate thoughts, almost scolding yourself aloud before quickly accepting a tequila from an old schoolmate you had been catching up with in the kitchen.

You called out for Jack, looking at the shot glass sitting on the countertop filled to the brim. You were starting to feel good- really good, buzzing slightly. That familiar playfulness you always felt after indulging in vices was making its appearance.

When he failed to respond, you only shrugged before taking the shooter on his behalf, tossing it back with little regard before turning to look back at the living room, eyes finding their way back to Harry- who was still brooding in the corner all alone.

Without coherent rationality you found yourself heading towards the bathroom having to pass him in the process.

Maybe you did enjoy the attention Harry gave you- or perhaps this was just another attempt to reciprocate the frustration he had left you with just earlier.

As you began past him, you slowed to a complete halt- his head snapping up, the surprise evident on his features as two of your icy fingers reached up and hooked themselves onto the collar of his shirt. You tugged it down and to the side- exposing part of his collarbone and bird tattoo. With one finger, you gently tapped his skin twice before releasing the shirt altogether,

“Hm,” your gaze slowly lifted and met his- he was too scared to blink. You leaned forward,

“Swallows,” you paused and thought about it for a moment,

“Your tattoos and I have that in common.”

You didn’t wait to see his response, stepping back and heading towards the bathroom. His skin felt scorched in their wake.

Harry was stunned, naturally, his thoughts in an absolute frenzy. He had been angry, actually upset after you had belittled him so effortlessly just earlier- this evening was quickly turning nightmarish. And now, you were teasing him- taunting him, actually. Harry hadn’t stopped thinking about you the entire evening. Why was he so fixated? This couldn’t be healthy.

He hadn’t - and didn’t feel this way about any of the other women in his life. There was just something about you. He liked you. Always had. Harry had a feeling there was still more to you and he had the aching desire to find out.

He had been back home for a while now, so focused on his album that his personal life had ended up on the backburner without a second thought. Tonight, in the comfort of his new home he could no longer ignore his thoughts veering astray. Particularly the thoughts entailing your thighs, bare and wrapped around his waist.

He stood there for a moment, your words swirling around, getting louder until he could hear nothing *but your sweet, sweet voice. And though you were probably just fucking with him, Harry was no longer thinking clearly – a man on a mission as he left his spot by the wall and followed after you.

You were just stepping back into the passage when you spotted Harry walking toward you with what looked like determination- and possibly certainty. He was just feet away from you within an instant, and you hardly had a second to comprehend before he pressed his chest to yours- pushing you back softly into the silver and white wallpaper.

You looked up, gasping as he pinned you between his arms, both hands pressed against the wall just above your shoulders. His face was closer to yours than ever before and your eyes darted back and forth, studying his soft frown, forehead crinkling, and brows furrowed. His frustration was blatant, but the lustful sparkle in his eyes was unmistakable.

“What-” you started but Harry was quick to cut you off, leaning that much closer,

“-give me a chance,” it came out in one breath, fanning across your face.

You blinked back. He was incredulous. This was worst-case-scenario- you had been avoiding this type of interaction the entire night, and with one sentence you had thrown it all down the drain. And now here he was, so close. His chest pressed against yours, leg slotted between yours, brushing against your skin, breathing fast, and heavy, he smelled good, and looked better.

The fluttering in your stomach was unfamiliar- intrigued and excited. You wondered what exactly he had in mind if you were to in fact give him a chance. Something told you that there was more to him; that he might be anything but all-talk. The way he looked at you, how filthy he spoke to you, even the way he touched you when permitted.

You were concerned about losing control, leaning into him, touching him- but concern wasn’t enough when you slung your arm around his neck, nails scratching the base of his neck. Harry’s eyes dropped, head tilting closer, your foreheads brushing.

His words still echoing, “give me a chance, give me a chance.”

“I said, I don’t think you could handle-” you tried,

“-I think you’re bullshit,” he interrupted, and you let out a soft gasp,

“That’s mean,” your other arm linking around his shoulders,

“You’re mean,” he muttered just above your ear, before a soft kiss was pressed below your lobe,

“Matter of opinion,” you sighed, raking your nails along his jaw,

“I disagree,” a chaste kiss to your jaw,

“You always do,” thumb sliding along his bottom lip,

Harry dropped his arm, hand coming up to hold the side of your jaw, tilting you upward until you were blinking up at him. He had never seen you like this before; it felt so natural and surreal, seconds away from rectifying the last twenty plus years.

You were ready to meet him in the middle, shutting out everything that wasn’t him. You were at his mercy, foolishly waiting on edge for him to finally kiss you. His thumb copied yours, brushing against your lip before slipping slightly into your mouth, grazing your teeth.

You rose off of your heels, leaning up to impatiently close the gap, his hands moving to cup your face- he was looking at you lazily, lips slick, plump and puckered just for you,

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered,

“No.”

“Please?” so softly, your eyes fluttering shut - when out of nowhere,

“Harry?” it came from far at first, but was quickly followed by another, “Harry!”

It was Jack- drunk and loud- bellowing from the kitchen and heading straight for the hallway.

As if you had been set alight, you removed your arms and gave Harry a harsh shove until he stumbled back and looked at you with a mix of sheer shock and confusion. Before he could speak, Jacked turned the corner and cheered,

“I found you!” he was drunker than when either of you last saw him, stumbling around, eyes barely open.

Harry was so startled and full of disappointment he could barely comprehend. He was seconds away from kissing you- and now, when he glanced your way, you were a blushing mess, averting eye contact, arms wrapped firmly across your chest.

He managed to come to a stop, leaning his shoulder and head against the wall,

“I’m so sleepy, have I spent enough time mingling? Can I go to bed without saying goodnight? I don’t think anyone would care and I mean, like I said, I’m really tired.”

Jack was pouting and the eyeroll Harry sent his way could hardly convey his annoyance.

It was then that you coughed softly, Harry’s head snapping your direction in an instant,

“Good plan. I think I should get going anyway, been a long day,” you shrugged, looking anywhere but in Harry’s direction.

You were mortified- and you weren’t sure if it was because of Jack, or Harry. Either way you were still fully to blame, and it was time to make a run for it. You could feel Harry’s unwavering gaze, so strong it made you ache with awkwardness.

Jack nodded along, head droopier, eyes drowsier, “Y/n, you rock!”

“Facts.” You chuckled.

“True rock n’ roller babyyyy!” he sung out, and it seems both you and Harry took that as a cue,

“Alright Jack let’s get you to bed,” Harry took him by the shoulder, taking one last longing look at you. You glanced up for a brief moment, eyes wide. And then you were mumbling your goodbye’s and heading for the front door.

As the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it and let out the longest sigh, pressing your face into your hands, pushing harder and harder, forcing all fuzziness to disappear. The embarrassment was seeping from your everywhere, and worse- you knew you would have to see him again.

🍷

Jack had not stopped moaning and groaning from the minute you both sat down across from one another. The breeze directs the sun’s glare directly above the table, and whilst you are most grateful for this marvellous weather, Jack does not seem to agree. Though, you could chalk that up to the hangover he was currently nursing.

You two had made plans for a brunch catch-up after the housewarming, but apparently you had failed to consider that your brother was obviously still a man-child. Did he need three-to-five workdays to recover?

After all these years, you would have hoped that Jack might have learned to handle his liquor, swap a few tequilas for a sip of water. He truly was a baby, looking devoid of sleep, hair sticking up in all directions, and after what felt like the millionth grunt, you finally looked up from your phone,

“Dude. It’s already midday. Is this going to be another one of those full day recoveries? Because we are not teens anymore; I am no longer obligated to take care of you-“

Harry interrupted your train of thought as he seemed to pop-up out of nowhere, towering over you and stealing the sun in the process. He’s sporting a chunky-knitted sweater, the black tank top peeking out matches his flared pants and boots. He looks cosy.

But he is soaking up all the warmth, stealing it for his own, peering down at you, green eyes half-hidden behind his ray-bans.

“For the love of god, sit down already.” You groaned, wrapping your favourite blue, corduroy overcoat across your chest as a small shiver took over your arms.

Harry chuckled, looking at you curiously as he slid out a chair and sat himself down next to Jack- who whined meekly when his and Harry’s elbows briefly touched.

“Christ. What is with you two today? Is this a Y/L/N thing?” he was amused, settling back further into his seat, removing his shades, and running a hand lazily through his hair.

Jack, whose head was now resting directly on the table, lifted up slightly and attempted to get out a coherent sentence,

“M’just alitt wreckddd is’all…” he tried.

Harry looked at him incredulously, turning to you with a smile so wide it reached his eyes. And he looked warm- warm and snug and somehow radiating an energy that quickly became contagious. It made you smile softly, and then you were chuckling along, happy be in his company.

“Last time you mix drinks, huh Jack?”

He whined once more.

Harry shifted towards you, elbows stretching out across the table, he let his stare linger for a moment longer than you both knew was necessary. You felt hot under his gaze, observed and uncomfortable with the sudden shift of attention. But before you could settle into this unfamiliar feeling, he sent a swift wink your way.

“See something you like?” your brows arched.

“More than,” Harry nodded in satisfaction. “I don’t want to do the things I want to do with you with people I just like.”

Now you were red in the face for another reason, eyes desperately darting over to see if Jack heard, unsurprised to find that he was almost fast asleep.

And you hope your eyeroll and lack of response will come off as a tactical choice- Harry didn’t need to know how he made you feel. Flustered and confused.

“Did you have fun at your little housewarming?” you attempted to deflect.

He nodded, “My favourite part was when you were about to let me kiss you… pity about the interruption,” eyes glancing over at Jack’s sleepy figure.

Now you were blushing for sure, steam threatening to spill from your ears and nostrils. You couldn’t have regretted coming home more than in this moment.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you. Interruption or not.”

“I believe otherwise.”

“I believe otherwise about your believing of otherwise” you huffed out quickly, brows furrowed.

Harry laughed fetchingly, arms sliding across the table until they were almost bumping your own. His stare was unwavering,

“You’re in such denial. If it weren’t so painful, I’d find it that much more endearing”

“All I heard was endearing.”

“Well, you are,” he leaned closer, “extremely endearing.”

Before you had a moment to react, Harry brought his hand down against the table, startling Jack awake. They looked at each other sternly before Jack scoffed,

“Dick.”

You took the final sip of your coffee before turning towards the two men; Jack was a sight for sore eyes, and if you spend any longer around Harry, your head might explode in confusion.

“Jack is it safe to assume we won’t be going to the market anymore?” you barely finished before he started protesting. Typical.

“Market?” Harry interjected?

“Some little art thingy Y/n heard about”

“On 4th street” your eyes rolled.

“Sounds fun” Harry shrugged.

“That’s what I thought” you mimicked.

Jack was already standing up when he got a bright idea,

“Harry, why don’t you go with Y/n? Let me get some damn sleep while she talks your ear off.”

You were a mess of protests, assuring them both that there was really no need. But Harry seemed married to the idea.

“Sounds perfect. 4th street you said?” Jack nodded.

“Really Harry, it’s not necessary- “you tried but he only shushed you,

“-Don’t worry sweets, I’ll gladly let you talk my ear off.” Winking, he joined as you all stood from the table and regrouped outside the entrance.

After a brief goodbye, Jack started heading home. And within a minute, Harry had wrapped his warm palm around yours, tugging you forward until you stumbled into line with him.

“It’s close by, lets walk.”

Harry didn’t even look your way as he moved you both forward, weaving past cars and a woman walking her Labrador. You take two steps at a time, trying desperately to keep up as you both made it safely across the road.

“Harry- “you tried, losing your footing for a moment as he powered forward, “For fuck’s sake Harry, slow down.”

He stopped abruptly, his back creating a wall for your chest to bump into.

Harry didn’t say anything when you protested, didn’t let go of your hand as he started walking forward again. He took small steps, making sure you were able to keep up with him.

Your hand felt warm and smothered within his, a fireball sparking and crackling between your palms; ready to set off an explosion that may swallow your head and heart whole. You try to focus on otherwise, taking notice of the shop windows blurring past.

Harry squeezed your hand gently, bringing your gaze to his, “Let’s go here.” he motioned towards a little bakery stand, guiding you both to the warm glass protecting a sweet collection of muffins, cookies, pastries galore.

He refused to let you go as he caught the attention of the server, “Everything smells so good!” he complimented her before continuing, “Could we please get a couple custard slices and a chocolate croissant?”

Your heart leapt as she nodded along enthusiastically and began bagging the pastries, turns out your croissant-obsession was so strong even Harry had caught on.

Nevertheless, you gazed up at him curiously, and he only smiled back sweetly before finally releasing you from his grip, fishing into his pocket for his wallet.

Your hand missed his- and you hated that, dismissing the thought completely as he handed you the warm paper bag; the sweet smell of fresh pastry had you almost burying your face forward, and Harry laughed, motioning you back towards the bustling street.

You were already stuck into the croissant, flakes fluttering everywhere- some even settling on your chin. Harry noticed you were no longer keeping up, looking over his shoulder before halting completely. You caught up; eyes still glued to your pastry, and you barely even noticed him, continuing forward- and now he had to take a long stride to catch up.

He was eyeing you intently as you devoured the remains, crumpling up the bag with a satisfied sigh. You hadn’t noticed his gaze, turning absentmindedly,

“What?” Your brow raised quizzically, using the back of your hand to dust off any excess crumbs.

“Nothing,” he mused, “you’re cute, is all.”

“Stop.” You huffed. Thankfully, the two of you had finally reached 4th street and there were stalls set up everywhere, bright colours of multiple mediums decorating the walls, the streets- the people.

Harry stopped next to you, unnecessarily leaning against you,

“Wow.” He sighed, “This is… amazing.”

You nodded along, “haven’t been to one of these in years.”

He looked over curiously, “Used to come to these things often?”

“Whenever I had the chance, yeah” you made your way to a stand nearby, getting lost in several lino-print’s, deep blue’s melting into mustard yellows and burnt orange. Harry joined you, leaning forward to get a better look.

After a few moments, you turned your attention to another stand displaying bold psychedelic canvases, varying in shapes and sizes. They were so beautiful, telling thousands of stories all at once. Harry was peering over your shoulder, studying the blotches of colour with deep curiosity.

“This one… is so… interesting.” He pointed slightly, eyes never leaving the artwork. Harry was often quick to forget the other arts. Music was now full-on lifestyle and left little time for much else these days.

“Hm,” you replied curiously, continuing to scan the other pieces.

Eventually, Harry stepped away, starting to head towards a stand further down the street. Clay ashtrays, figurines, jewellery, and other accessories decorated the table, and by the time you had caught up, he was already in the middle of purchasing several necklaces and bracelets ranging from royal blue to candy red.

“I like this one,” you pointed to a lime green bracelet, peeking out of the other beads strewn across his palm.

“I do too,” he agreed with a large grin.

You waited for Harry’s new purchases to be paid for and placed into a paper bag. He bumped his hip into yours, motioning for you both to continue down the street.

Harry was keeping as close as possible, ensuring his arm brushed your shoulder with every opportunity. As you turned the corner onto another street, and before you could hold yourself back, you were power walking towards a stall displaying, what you would later refer to as, a masterpiece.

Considering you were often surrounded by art; it wasn’t often that a piece had you this fixated. Harry had never seen you so engrossed in something- few had.

And Harry was patient as you observed, taking your time asking the artist questions- throwing around words that sounded so foreign to him, it only made you that much more attractive, seeing you in your element.

When you were finally content, you said a sweet goodbye, and gestured Harry to continue on down the street. A comfortable silence often fell neatly between the two of you, every now and then pointing out something, asking for one another’s opinion, preference.

“How’s work?” he asked,

“Loving it, actually. I was kinda nervous the job would be as trash as the one I had here…” you really hadn’t enjoyed the hustle-and-bustle of being smack-dab in the metropolitan area. Every other person was a cut-throat, a cry-baby, or just a complete asshole. It had drained almost every ounce of your passion and drive, if you had stayed a moment longer you were sure to have slipped into another bough of melancholy.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said genuinely- Harry had hated seeing you so stressed, always seeming on the brink of tears.

“I liked the new album, by the way.” that sparked his attention,

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “Don’t let it get to your head now,” you were teasing, but wanted to make sure he knew you were being genuine, “I liked it- I loved it.”

🍷

Harry was now running late, in his own home, spending an excessive amount of time deciding between which of two shirts to wear. As soon as he had settled on a loose, black cotton button up - which he had left partly-unbuttoned and had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows – he immediately decided to change his pants and shoes.

After slipping into his new silk, embroidered-lavender slacks, he paired the outfit with shiny, point-tipped black boots. Harry was putting on the last of his jewellery and spritzing his favourite cologne while the music droned through the gaps under his door- the number of voices growing by the minute.

Harry found himself rather nervous, palms threatening to clam up as he thought about seeing you again. He knew these feelings he was having were getting out of hand. He hadn’t been in such close contact with you in years- the last time was possibly after you graduated college.

And back then, you were wrapped up in your then-relationship, dragging him along to all events. Harry was sure he had only seen you on one occasion without them. It was an important night for him- when you two were temporarily alone again.

He was sure he was in love with you back then. You consumed his every waking thought. Harry would, and did, do anything to be near you – to make you laugh, to pick your brain, sometimes just to be in your presence.

Then life hurled forward, days turned to weeks, and suddenly it was at least a year before he saw you again. You had since abandoned your relationship- and were about to ditch your home and career here in London. Harry saw you a couple weeks before you left- he didn’t have to persuade you much when he offered to come over with Jack to help box up your apartment.

But by then, he was already hot in the middle of making albums and touring arenas, he couldn’t designate the time to properly mourn your departure. It only occurred to him that you were no longer home when he came back after the band’s final tour.

Every now and then he’d hear updates or see a few photos courtesy of your mom and Jack. For a moment his heartrate would pick up, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess – what does your new home look like? What do you do in your spare time? Are you having fun?

And now here you were with all your friends, celebrating being a decade older, in his house. If he thought about it too long, his nausea would resurface. All Harry could do now was take one final look in the mirror before leaving his room, making his way towards the party.

He couldn’t believe how many guests had already arrived – had he really spent that long getting ready? A small sea of people had already formed, mid-conversations, mixing drinks, having a smoke on the balcony.

His eyes scanned the room, acknowledging people he knew as he searched desperately for you. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure if you had even arrived yet.

He was about to give up and head over to the bar when he spotted something sparkly bobbing behind a group of people near the door to the balcony. He followed the shimmers, greeting guests as he wove through them. He stopped at the glass door.

Harry’s head, as well as his heart, had melted into a puddle as his gaze landed on you, leaning against the balcony with a cigarette perched between your cherry-gloss lips.

He couldn’t hear over the thumping in his head, the only thing comprehensible was how incredible you looked. Which was an understatement of note.

You had chosen an extremely well-fitted, watermelon pink dress. It settled neatly across your upper thighs, cinching in at the waist, white frill accentuating your cleavage and connecting to two delicate bows that worked as straps strewn across your shoulders.

You had swapped out your docs for a pair of white, latex boots (each with a hot pink heart) stopping just above your ankles, as well as white fishnet stockings.

And to top it all off, your head adorned some sort of princess tiara covered in sparkly glitter- the beacon that had just led Harry directly to you.

Harry still hadn’t moved when Jack, who he hadn’t even noticed was standing beside you, caught his attention. And as soon as Jack lit up with eagerness, your focus shifted too, almost dropping your cigarette as you sent a wide grin his way- eyes beaming with excitement.

“Haaarryyy!” you enthused, arms waving as you did a little hip wiggle.

Harry felt like he had just stepped into a fever dream. But he was quick to reciprocate, matching your grin as he made his way over.

You were bouncing on your toes, and he had barely come to a halt before you lurched forward, flinging your arms around his shoulders for a boisterous, but doting embrace. Harry’s arms wrapped around your upper back, pulling you close, stumbling, and living for the sound of your giggles.

“Happy birthday, klutz.” He said in a sing-song tone, rocking you back and forth.

You pulled away, singing back a sweet “thank you” before leaning up to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Harry prayed it was too dark out- hoped you wouldn’t notice the way his face turned so red.

And you didn’t, bouncing from heel to heel back to your spot next to Jack. You picked up and sipped at a drink that was almost spilling from your glass, and as your lips met the sweet liquid your eyes widened with something else in mind.

“Shots.” You stated seriously but couldn’t help it as you began smiling mischievously.

“Shots!” Jack matched your energy and suddenly Harry was reminded that you and your brother were a deadly combination.

Usually, it was you who would end up responsible for reeling Jack and Harry in when they got too rowdy- chasing after them in a weak attempt to corral their belligerent bodies into whatever vehicle was on standby. But courtesy of making it another trip around the sun, you were two steps ahead of the boys, slipping past friends who all took turns attempting to halt you for a chat.

By the time the two men had caught up, you were already lining up four luminous shot glasses- they hadn’t noticed Nova [one of your nearest and dearest friends from school] had already joined you. The two of you were now chatting away, paying no mind as Jack took over the shot-dispensing duty.

In between enthusiastic exchanges, Harry greeted Nova and managed to get in a few catch-up questions before you completely distracted her with something so out of context he didn’t bother trying to keep up.

Thankfully it wasn’t long before a glass of Don Julio was being passed his way, your fingers brushing against his in the process.

Before anyone even attempted to take a sip, Jack was calling everyone to a holt, “We have to toast!” and everyone groaned. But he was unphased,

“Despite being the greatest pain in my ass, you’re also the greatest person I’ve ever known. You’re a real grown-up now, shithead, and I can’t wait to see what thirty has in store for you.”

You pouted sweetly, eyes bashful as your three friends started saying cheers, clinking their tequilas together. Harry tapped his glass against yours, seconds away from lifting it to his lips-

“Hey, hey- “you scolded, and he held back any panic, “You have to look each other in the eye before you cheers.”

Harry smiled in relief, locking your gaze as he brought his glass back to yours,

“Definitely don’t want seven years of bad sex,”

He sent a wink your way as your glasses separated, tilting his head back, swallowing quickly.

“Especially when you’re finally back in town.”

Jack spotted Mitch and Adam mingling nearby, quicky motioning them over. Harry wanted to keep talking to you though, his mind hadn’t strayed from you, nor had his gaze. But you were all amped-up, swaying from side-to-side, cheesy grin, eyes crinkling as you reacted to something Nova said.

Thankfully, Harry was gifted with an opportunity when Jack suddenly realised Nova hadn’t yet met the other guys. He called her over, leaving you leaning across the bar, perched on your elbows.

“Care for a drink, senorita?” your ears perked up at that, Harry was already pretending to roll up his sleeves, gently bumping his hip with yours. You turned, leaning your back against the counter now as Harry reached over and grabbed a cocktail glass. He got to work, grabbing an assortment of drinks and ingredients and you found your eyes wandering to his arms and hands.

Harry must have felt you staring, looking over at you in between mixing ice and some pink concoction,

“You look incredible, by the way,” he busied himself, grabbing different utensils, glancing back to reaffirm his statement.

“You reckon?” standing up straight, you did a good job doing a little show for him, making sure he got a good view of all the frills and your figure.

He stopped in his tracks and nodded profusely, “Incredible. Definitely designer right?”

“You’ll die,” you stepped closer, straight-faced. He waited,

“Lacroix, ’91. From their spring collection.”

Harry was impressed, excited to finish off this marvellous drink with raspberries and strawberries,

“Christ. What did you do to get your hands on it?”

“Sold my soul.”

“To the Devil?”

“No, her name was actually Giovanna- bitchy creative director from Milan. Love her to death.”

Harry found you more endearing by the second. He added a finishing touch of white sugar, turning to you proudly, his creation on display,

“Voila! Special birthday cocktail for the special birthday girl.”

“Ooh! It’s pretty,” you marvelled,

“Matches your dress,” he pointed out as he placed the drink in your hand.

You took a sip, eyes widening in delight. It was simply delicious, and you couldn’t be sure if Harry had even known what he was doing when he made it.

“This is incredible,” you whined, taking another long sip, “Do I taste watermelon?”

“And litchi, with vodka- which I recall is a personal favourite of yours,” he had hit the nail on the head, naturally.

“Thanks Harry,” you said sweetly, “I don’t think I’ve tasted anything so good.”

Your eyes widened in an instant, as did his, and you were more than thankful when he chose to substitute a snide comment with a cheeky smirk and wink.

Nova returned to your side, making a few remarks about how sweet Adam seems, asking Harry where he was from. She suddenly remembered something and excitedly tapped you, almost causing your drink to spill.

“- She’s here? No ways! I haven’t seen her since the debauchery of Nina’s baby-shower” you enthused, eyes hastily shifting around the room for this so-called friend, gasping softly when you spotted her in the near distance.

With eagerness you wrapped your hand around Nova’s, dragging her off into the crowd. Harry turned his attention to Mitch and Adam- who had already struck up a conversation - only catching a glimpse of your back disappearing amongst the guests.

Harry was starting to feel frustrated; confusion and longing were swirling around his head with such fervour it was moments away from eating him alive. It was time for him to make a conscious effort to stop thinking about you and to start enjoying the party in honour of… well, you.

But he was determined, fixing himself a straight scotch, sloshing it back before quickly refilling and joining in the heated football debate that was escalating by the minute.

🍷

With your absence, Harry found himself mingling with people he hadn’t seen in years – some of these exchanges even being rather pleasant. He was on drink three, Jack seemed to be on at least double that. Speaking of Jack, he had been itching for a cigarette, his favourite drunken-accessory, and Harry gladly followed him out- finally feeling relaxed and frankly, almost buzzing.

The balcony, though large, was crowded. The air was perfect, spring in full swing. To his surprise, Harry spotted two empty chairs off to the side, dragging Jack along. They were going back-and-forth, trying to figure out the names of several guests.

“I think our twelfth-grade English teacher is here, what was his name?” Jack clicked his fingers searching his thoughts for the right answer, “Mister… I wanna say Twat?” he pondered, “No, that can’t be it… Twatman?”.

“Watman. Mr. Watman.” Harry scoffed, “I’m surprised you remembered him to begin with. I don’t recall you attending a single class.”

“You’re just jealous I was skipping class to make-out with cheerleaders.”

“Which cheerleaders?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Harry lips parted to respond, his head snapping instantly at the sound of your melodic voice bellowing across the balcony. You were on your own, a small, abstract clutch in one hand, and now you were bounding over, calling out,

“I was wondering where you were.”

Harry wasn’t sure who of the two you was addressing, but his heart couldn’t help but jump at the possibility that you may have been seeking him out after all.

You stopped before them, scanning your surroundings before suddenly, and shamelessly, you plopped yourself down horizontally across Harry’s lap. In utter shock, he peered over at Jack who not only ignored the fact but sparked up a conversation.

“Do you remember that strange professor? Taught year twelve English lit, I think.”

You thought about it, further settling into Harry’s lap, paying zero attention to him as you began unzipping and searching through your clutch. You pulled out a dainty container of weed, blunt-wrap, and a tube of cherry lip gloss,

“Yeah, yeah. Twatman right?”

“See, Harry!” Jack exclaimed, pointing your way.

But Harry’s head was miles away, his entire body heating up, your skin burning against his thighs. Every time you moved, breathed- he had to calm his own, but he was more than thankful for the permanent view of your side profile- cute nose and all. You started rolling, telling Jack some bizarre information about their old teacher. You both theorized about a secret relationship, while Harry sat idly by, adamant on being your ideal chair.

It was only a couple minutes later when you finished up, poking your tongue out as you ran it across the length of the joint. You could feel Harry’s eyes on you, choosing to ignore them as you returned to your clutch to fish out a lighter.

You crossed one leg over the other, adjusting and taking subtle notice of Harry’s squeamishness before placing the joint between your lips, starting to light up.

Harry’s head was foggy for two reasons now, a thick cloud of smoke leaving your lips and fanning out across his unsuspecting face. He blinked back a few times, trying hard to maintain stillness. After taking another quick drag, you leaned forward, thighs momentarily pressing further into Harry’s as you passed the joint over to Jack.

The joint had barely touched his lips before Jack was coughing and spluttering, eyes watering as he hunched forward and put his hand across his forehead.

“Jesus, Y/n- “he was trying to laugh but it came out sounding like a failed-beatboxer, “-fucking strong. Where did you get this?” he attempted to swallow residual coughs as he stretched over and handed the joint back to you.

“Same place I usually get it,” you paused and took a lengthy drag, sharply inhaling before letting the smoke slip through your lips,

“Purple haze. She gave me extra courtesy of the big three-oh.”

“Seems your senior citizen discount has already come in handy,” Jack mused, still holding back from coughing.

“Get fucked,” you huffed, turning your attention to Harry, who instantly felt hot under the collar,

“Still up to no good?” your lips turning upward as you gestured to the joint perched between your fingers.

Harry nodded up at you, his doe-eyes blinking bashfully. With that, you lifted your hand and as he parted his plump lips, you slotted the joint between them. Your fingers brushed against his chin, nails grazing his lips as you held him in place, letting him take a lengthy inhale as your eyes trained the freckles scattered across his face.

Up close, he looked soft, and raw - your eyes felt like they had turned into magnifying glasses, noting the stubble scattered across his chin, the crinkles between his focused-brow, the stray curls slipping across his forehead- and before you could stop yourself, you had concluded that he was beautiful, and that denying your attraction for him was at this point, futile.

He looked up at you through his thick, fluttering lashes, leaning back slightly and you pulled your hand away, bringing the joint back to your own lips. You were still looking at Harry intently when the corner of his eyes crinkled, his lips parting to expose a pearly grin,

“See something you like?” he asked.

And you did your very best to remain unphased, inhaling sharply before you tilted towards him, speaking just above a whisper,

“I don’t want to do the things I want to do with you with people I just like.”

Your voice mocked his deep and slow tone, taking pleasure in exaggerating each and every syllable.

Harry gulped. You pushed the joint towards him, and he bent forward- more than necessary- gladly accepting anything you had to offer. His head was still swirling, convinced you were emitting a vibrant glow, aiming it directly at him.

Harry bravely tapped his fingers along your shin, feeling lulled and content. You had fully relaxed now, leaning your shoulder against his,

“Having fun, birthday girl?”

“Yes sir,” you rested your head- just barely touching his shoulder,

Harry must have been dreaming- stoned and hallucinating, either way he let his hands trail up and down your leg, tapping his foot side-to-side, humming almost inaudibly.

And then in the blink of an eye, you were standing up, leaving him cold and longing once more. You looked over at Jack who had finished coughing and was now staring directly up at the sky. His eyes were darting back-and-forth, acknowledging each star.

You let the joint slip from your fingers, using the toe of your boot to put it out,

“Well boys, I’m off to get a refill,” you tapped Harry’s shoulder gently,

“Glad you can still keep up.”

He looked over at Jack - who was still looking up – and without a word, Harry was out of his seat, hot on your trails. If tonight had taught him anything it was that you were quick on your feet, already at the bar as you scanned the scatter of bottles.

Before he could announce his presence, you turned to him briefly in acknowledgement, “do you still have that photo album I made for your eighteenth?”

“Random.” He said curiously, watching as you turned back and continued examining the bottles.

“I know,” you nodded your back still to him, “I saw a bunch of albums in the living room, just wondered if you still had it.”

Harry thought about it for a second, “I do.”

Thousands of memories flooding back to him, “It’s in my room actually.”

“Is this a just ploy to get me alone?” You turned to fully face him now, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Yes.” He teased sternly.

You nodded, turned, and grabbed an unopened bottle of 1982 Bordeaux, and motioned towards the direction of the bedrooms,

“Lead the way.”

You stayed close, following Harry down the hallway to the foot of his door. It was already ajar, and he used his foot to push it open fully, flicking on the light switch before stepping aside to welcome you in. You took a couple steps forward before he shut the door and walked off in search of the album.

You took in the room, pleasantly overwhelmed by how much it still screamed Harry. You remembered his last room and even spotted his old record player, his rustic bookshelf, a framed poster of Doctor Frankenfurter, and of course his first guitar- dinged-up and faded- just the way you liked it.

Harry was shuffling through one of the draws of his dressing table, his back to you, as you crouched down and began unzipping your boots. The carpet beneath your fishnets was thick, white, and fluffy- and before you could help yourself, you were now fully sitting down, legs crossed, arms working to remove the bottles cork.

Harry cheered softly as he found what he was looking for, grabbing the album- blue, with a hand-painted portrait of himself on the cover. When he turned and noticed your current position, he slipped off his own shoes and plopped down across from you, crossing his legs.

He dropped the album between the two of you, pairing a cheery, “ta-da” with jazz hands.

You did a little dance- what you could manage from your position- as the cork finally popped off and you took a swift swig before passing it to Harry.

He gladly accepted, and as the bottle reached his lips, Harry suddenly acknowledged the situation he was currently in. nerves rushing in from all directions, and he took an extra couple sips on account.

You were already flipping through the first few pages, grinning sweetly, and pausing to take a better look at some of the pictures. Harry was looking too, but mostly at you. He liked how you focused, how fondly you smiled, and he was only seconds away from getting caught staring.

“Oh god, do you remember this day?” you leaned forward, fingers tracing a photo of Harry dressed as a cowboy, sporting a fake moustache, and aiming a water gun at the camera. He nodded fondly, reminding you that shortly after the picture was taken, you threw up all over a rosebush- fully dressed as a brothel-lady - bonnet, and all.

With that, you flipped the page with haste, scanning some of the others, stopping to think- sometimes to reminisce. And then you came across the one picture Harry would have traded the world for. The two of you were sat on a couch, your legs draped across the armrest, your head Harry’s lap. The sun was setting, creating a silhouette of the perfect tableau. It was the beginning of one of his favourite evenings to date. Whoever took the photo hadn’t stuck around, the most important part of this memory was that it was just you two- an anomaly.

Before he could stop himself, Harry pointed down at the photo, “This one is my favourite.”

You followed his hand, looking down intently at the little moment caught on film,

“We drank so much wine that night,” you giggled fondly, careful not to give any feelings you may have harboured away.

“You sang,” He said,

“For you,” you emphasised,

“For me.” He nodded.

A silence settled and Harry took another sip, remembering your twirls, drinking, spilling from the bottle, the way your hair fell, the way he felt. The night way playing out on super speed, too many moments jumbling together, and then he couldn’t stop the blush from rushing to his cheeks,

“Oh god. I danced. A lot.” He remembered the moves far too well.

How could you forget? He was clumsy on his feet, creating a brand-new style. And he was so off-beat, no rhythm, moving any which way as long as it caused you some sort of reaction- preferably an endearing laugh, which you were of course currently doing,

“Yeah, you danced a lot.” You smiled innocently, “For me.”

“For you.”

Harry caught your gaze, the air between you thick with tension and lust. He wanted crawl right on over, grab your face and smother you in kisses. And the way you were looking back at him, Harry was almost convinced you might actually want him to do that too.

Neither moved, hardly blinked, and you were so hot under the collar it was torturous. You felt completely trapped, losing all self-control and about to slink straight into his lap. In sheer panic, you turned back to the album, flipping through pages at a time.

There was a photo of Harry, Jack, and an old friend of theirs from school. They were dressed in football attire, getting ready for a match.

“Oh, I remember this guy. Andy, right?” you taunted, glancing up to gauge his reaction,

Harry couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching, eyes rolling.

“He was cute,” you tried, “Didn’t he have a thing for me?”

Harry scoffed. Of course Andy had fancied you- Harry almost lost his mind every time he made any comments expressing crudeness or adoration for you. He had bitten his tongue so many times it was habitual when he found himself doing it now.

He still hadn’t spoken, you were fascinated as his pupils dilated, angst creeping up across his features. You took another sip of the wine, eyeing him before pushing once more,

“Maybe I should have given him a chance…”

Harry barely let you finish, “He couldn’t’ve handled it.”

You laughed harshly, absolutely amused, and horrifyingly, extremely enticed. So, you uncrossed your legs, splaying them out in front of you, toes tapping his crossed ankles,

“You really think you -”

“- Yes.” He finished for you.

In your opinion, his certainty was the most attractive thing he had ever done. He suddenly wrapped his hands around your ankles and gently tugged you forward.

You let out a small gasp as your bum slid forward, Harry unravelling his legs, all the while dragging you further into his grasp. You were lured straight into his lap, naturally wrapping your legs around his waist, settling atop his hips.

You were face-to-face now, chest-to-chest, and his hands came to rest on your waist. His breath was warm, eyes oozing with intention as your hand lazily draped across his shoulder, fingers finding their way to his hair.

“I don’t believe you,” you muttered.

“I’ll make you,” he persuaded, hand sliding up to rest on your lower back.

You were on the brink of total surrender, leaning closer until your noses were brushing, his other hand leaving your waist to cup your jaw, securing around your throat.

“Prove it,” you gave in.

Harry felt his stomach flip, holding back the urge to shove his tongue down your throat. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then another to the corner of your mouth. He took his time, enjoying the way his lips sparked against your soft skin.

And then he kissed you- just barely. So lightly you barely felt it.

He pulled back for a moment, bringing his other hand up to hold your face in place. Planting a soft kiss, and another, and another, and then he finally kissed you- properly.

You were eager to reciprocate, tugging him as close as possible, kissing him with such fervour it could have convinced Harry that this was something you had spent twenty years anticipating.

Your lips detached, and Harry was quick to start scattering sloppy smooches up-and-down your neck. Nibbling and sucking now-and-then, dragging you further into his hold.

It wasn’t until you purposely pressed yourself down against his lap - desperate to ease some of this friction – when you suddenly came to your senses. Before he could kiss you once more, you went still, eyes opening to look at him in shock.

Harry stopped, eyeing you cautiously as you unravelled yourself, leaning back bashfully.

“We should get back to the party,” you suggested, scared to speak above a whisper.

Harry played it cool, nodding along as you climbed out of his lap, following suit until you were now both standing face-to-face.

Neither made any attempts to move, you watched him, shamelessly. Trying to figure out your next move, how to act, how to respond.

Suddenly Harry’s eyes lit up, surprisingly sending a wave of relief rushing through you.

“I got you something, for your birthday obviously.” He didn’t wait for your reaction, walking over to his bed before crouching down to reach for something hidden beneath.

You were eyeing him curiously as he started to reveal this surprise. The moment you caught a glance of what it was- that familiar blend of whites and purples, the abstract scatter of shapes and lines, the same feeling you felt the first time you saw the painting.

Your heart caused your ears to ring, a swell of emotions- aghast, amazed, admiration- and you were quick to realise that those feelings were for Harry.

He had barely finished revealing the artwork, not even fully standing straight as you came bounding over, causing him to drop what he was doing, only moments before you were grabbing his cheek, tugging him to meet your lips as you pressed against him with a blend of aggression and adamance.

He had no time to react, hands instinctively wrapping you up, pulling you into him, grabbing at whatever you would let him.

In a haze of needy kisses, he gently pushed you back until your bumped right into his dressing table.

You were tugging at his hair, making sure he stayed close. With your help, he used one arm to wrap around the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly until you were sat atop the table.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist in an instant, linking your ankles, tugging him closer. Harry was holding back a long overdue moan, hands on your jaw. You pulled back for a breath, taking in him- lusty, dishevelled, eager.

He reached up and gently removed your birthday crown, tossing it over his shoulder, and then his hands dropped to your shoulders, leaning down to press kisses to your collarbone, the nape of your neck, one final one – dragged out – beneath your ear.

Harry softly worked at the bows, pulling them loose, watching them fall, your chest on proper display now. Your hands were roaming his torso, back, his hair and finally, his jaw- leaning back in, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. His mouth parting slightly, and you stole the change to slip your tongue in- giving Harry a pleasant surprise.

You worked to unbutton his shirt, hastily shrugging it off of his shoulders, forcing him to help you remove it completely. Your hands were roaming his torse, lips following suit. Harry couldn’t help the soft sighs he let slip, trying to keep his hands on any part of your skin.

The impatience was growing – neither of you wanted to address it. But after the third time you pressed yourself against his crotch, Harry decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.

He stepped back, softly chuckling at the bratty whine you sent his way. Harry’s hands pressed firmly into your hips; his thumb drawing circles up your thighs. He let a few fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it up to reveal your deep red, lacy undies.

Harry tutted, trailing his fingers closer and closer,

“I am very, very fond of these.”

He was inches away from getting exactly where he wanted, patiently dragging out each action. He knew you were certain- your incapability of letting him out of your grasp was proof.

Your hands were still all over him, desperately grasping at any free skin,

“Shut it.”

“Yeah?” he snickered,

“Yeah,” you huffed,

“What if-”

“Harry. I said shut it and put your mouth to good use.”

He blinked, blinked once more, and nodded profusely,

“Yes ma’am.”

---

Get ready for part twoooo! - Emmy xox.

#elioslover #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles smut #elioslover writing

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keystonepublishing · 8 months

Text

Wildflower by sailingthenightsea

I think this is the first time by experiments have gotten the better of me in very big ways.

But I digress.

This bind - Wildflower by sailingthenightsea - is one that I had wanted to do for a long while. Back during the pandemic days, this fic helped me to uncover the diversity that is the Sleepy Bois Inc. fandom. So when it was finally time for me to begin work, I wanted to honor the fic's themes by going on a different bookbinding path.

First off, I had long wanted to make a cover window, and I feel this fic is a good opportunity to try this technique - a green cover to convey the green woods, and red to represent Tommy and the fae. I printed a marbled paper design, sealed it with varnish, cut-out two pieces of board, and pasted the paper on one board surface before layering it with the cut window-board.

That process was surprisingly easy. What wasn't was how I realize I had to paste and 'tuck-in' the green cover so that it doesn't cover the marbled design underneath. it took a lot of time, patience, and energy to finesse it all into a result that looks satisfactory.

Secondly, I wanted to see if I make the beginning (and final) pages of the textblock as endpapers into themselves. Conceptually, it would save time, materials, and energy. Unfortunately, I also tried another experiment of using misprinted pages to line the spine of the book. The result: see-through words and comments through the thin paper! Whoops!

I also wanted to use the concept of "dividing" sections of the book via endpapers such as my Solidaritek bind. But in this book, the endpapers would be printed onto the pages and divide sections of the book. The results look nice and is visually striking, but I hazard to be careful with this method and use it sparingly, as this can use up a lot more printer ink than one might expect.

I made some ground rules for typesetting: every major event in the story is punctuated by a number, along with a flourishing drop cap in Harrington font in dark red as the opening alphabet. And as is my style, I also incorporated a comments section where selected comments that clarify some story parts or explore the deeper themes of the fic are archived.

But my favorite part is the final paragraphs. Shout-out to @therealwaffleking for making a gorgeous rendition of the final parts of the fic, and one that I had to include! It was a simple matter of putting one (or two) paragraph per art, and the result feels like a storybook!

Initially, I wasn't happy with the result of this - there are places where the green cover isn't 'tucked-in' enough, I used too much ink to print those endpaper-pages, my use of misprints as a spine connector backfired on me, the black spine piece wasn't cut straight and thus had dinks, and there's even a tear on the top of the front spine!

But after a day of rest and introspection, I found myself warming to the bind, warts and all. Sure, it's far from perfect, but it's a bind that has character and quirkyness. It has more history in it's production than a normal ficbind, and I have learned a couple of new things about knowing what not to do in the future!. It's certainly a head-turner!

My heartfelt thanks to @sailingthenightsea for this fic, along with @100-reasons-sbi and @therealwaffleking for contributing their art! Thank you all so much!

#mcyt #mcytblr #sleepyboisinc #sleepy bois inc #tommyinnit #sbi fanfic #bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #my bookbinds

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 years

Photo

What an elegant home built in 1902 in Smithfield, Virginia. $1.450M.

An amazing home.

Look at the architecture. I just wonder at what point they decided to paint all the wood.

The sitting rooms and fireplaces are magnificent.

This is a comfortable little reading room- love it.

Wow, look at the copper dining room.

The kitchen is gorgeous- look at the backsplash and how it’s cut.

There’s a marble cutting board that goes with the veggie sink.

What a lovely everyday dining area.

Very pretty little powder room.

Beautiful porch facing the ocean.

5 lovely bedrooms with architectural detailing and 4 nicely restored vintage baths.

The main suite is the largest room and has a gorgeous bath and dressing room/closet.

Large finished attic has lots of possibilities.

The basement isn’t finished, but has the most interesting brick columns. That door looks like walk-in cold room.

Boat slip and beautiful gardens right on the water.

https://www.redfin.com/VA/Smithfield/345-S-Church-St-23430/home/49171152

#mansions #victorian architecture #old house dreams #long post

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nyxvamps · 11 months

Text

My Lady Nyx

This is a more of an animated vision of who Lady Nyx is. I see her as having the same vibes as Morticia Addams. Very regal and elegant and sophisticated but completely unhinged. and her kid inherited this.

She'll invite them over for tea and the blend would have dried blood in it. The most prized stag blood for her children and something a little more...outsourced for herself.

When they meet for dinners, it's always an affair. Especially if guests are invited. They dress to the T's. A dark academic, vampiric dream of flowy blouses, pressed slacks, leather boots, expensive looking cloaks, glittering jewelry. Looking like a pintrest board. Once dinner is over and the guests have left they go outside to the back garden and the children dance in the moonlight to The Cure and The Cramps and Judas Priest and give offerings to Cousin Artemis for providing the mood lighting for the evening while their mother watches with a fond smile, tapping her long sharp nails on the arm of her chair to the beat.

Lady Nyx refers to her individual children as "my daughter" "my son" "my child" and when they are all together, "my dears" "my loves" "my little bats".

Her children will refer to her as "Lady Nyx" or "Lady Night" as an initial greeting around company but then will refer to her as "Lady Mother" or "Mother Night" for the rest of the meeting. When alone, they will just call her Mother.

Her palace in the underworld feels as though it is never ending. With high elaborate archways, spiraling marble/obsidian staircases, large balconies and terraces, big glass windows, hidden rooms, a giant library. A throne room, two dining rooms (one for personal use and one for guests), a family room, a garden big enough to have a hedge maze. the list goes on.

The garden is full of plants and vegetation that requires little to no natural light and they tend to be monstrous. They might have teeth or make growling noises. There are a few that purr if you pet their petals or roots. There is one tree in the middle of the maze that thrives off of sacrificial offerings and because of this, it has blood red leaves and a slight metallic smell. It also grows the most delicious fruit you will ever taste, but unless you are of the underworld, maybe don't eat them.

All of the children receive a crown when they are born that will shift and change based on the wearers taste. They are only made with the purest of metals and finest cut gems and jewels from Lord Hades himself.

Since her children are of the underworld, they tend to have an affinity for witchcraft because of their closeness to Lady Hecate. Because of this, they will usually hold ritual during the solstices, beltane, full moons, etc in honor of their Mother. To thank the universe and the realm for bringing the gods to this plane and for allowing their Mother to have and keep the powers she has. And for allowing those powers to pass on to their children.

They have wings that can be retracted into the back unnoticeable because magic. Usually either leather, batlike wings or feathery, birdlike wings.

While at CHB, her children are regularly found wondering the woods at night uninterrupted because the harpies do not want to deal with the vibes they give off. When they are found, they smile serenely and say they were talking to Mother or just taking a stroll. But their eyes are a little wider and reflective than normal and their smile just a bit sharper. literally, they have fangs.

They casually walk around camp with fancy black umbrellas to protect them from the sun and are known to stay near the shadows or to bring the shadows to them. with clunky dollar store sunglasses and baggy dark sweatshirts on top of their platform boots with real silver studs they are usually something to look at.

You get the vibe. Thx for reading.

#child of nyx #nyx cabin #nyx headcanons #pjo #godly parents #nyx goddess #pjo headcanon #pjo au

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weidli · 2 months

Text

liveblog to von affen und menschen under the cut cause it got long

off to a good start i like the atmosphere

auch wieder mal musikalisch fun which is good cause that's what makes me like züri brännt so much i think

fucking love sunglasses isabelle impeccable

obsessed

theyre doing menschenrechte for menschenaffe als thema and they can't even bring up the basel initiative come onnnnn liegt doch auf der hand

when will they let ME take a nap in peace in the zoo zürich smh

oh isabelle reacts FAST

wo isch d'tessa??? Im Nebel. Mit Gorillas. häääää????

oh i've seen this woman before i just know it

WAS FREYA IN DER LETZTE SCHREY I FUCKING WIN

now i need to go back to that one i love weimar episodes and i love watching actors speak high german when i know they're swiss

we're doing IMPERSONATION i love that for her

tessa das ist jetzt aber nicht sehr vorsichtig

wohnung suspiciously broken into and fucked up and she doesn't even check every room PLEASE. A BIT OF CAUTION

ehrlich gesagt aber auch very funny wie sie einfach gerade aussen telefoniert und nix mitkriegt und der typ da Ach nei jetzt chann i sie nid umbringe blöde jugend und ihri handys immer. awwwwkward

JUST GENERALLY A LOT OF THIS IS REALLY FUNNY ACTUALLY

staring at the mirror having killed her twin sister (notwehr ?) and pretended it was suicide unaware that she is now impersonating the person who committed a whole NOTHER tötungsdelikt possibly a mord: es isch VORBEI . dU dumme sau. yeah pal not sure this one's gonna end well

BAHNHOF ZÜRI TIMES YEEAAAAHHHH

goodness let them sleep

jsjsjsj love all the mirror talking going on this episode . you know this DOES kind of feel like it could've been a weimar plotwise. this is great i mean that as a compliment

auch maximal chaos gerade die hälfte schlaft ein die andere hälfte hat kein plan um was es gerade geht

love tessa throwing tissue ball at noah and him looking very proud when he manages to duck. no one takes that man seriously in here

ach ja die schon oft angedeutete bundesgerichtsstelle für d wegenast

isabelle is so goddamn cute sometimes

immer noch kein plan was der eine kerl eigentlich vor hat aber ok guess we're infiltrating the krankenhaus

the simultaneous wordless sunglassed sighing. i'm in love with this episode

HELP

oh right i forgot about the very first dead guy

somebody please let them sleep

AND THEYRE STILL SHORT ONE they haven't found nicole yet

kdhsj poor isabelle

okay i want to hear about the background child dressed as a cowboy with an arrow in his arm. tell me more

noah just sitting there while isabelle and tessa Construct Theories. i suspect no one's told him anything

this is PROPER iasip conspiracy board shenanigans

tessaaaaaa stop calling it mord if you don't know that it's mord and in fact have no clue what the motive was that's my personal pet peeve >.<

NOW we've got the full set of leichen

at least so far

isabelle taking out her gun to stand there dramatically and aesthetically and tessa's just like Cmon really ???

i love isabelle's euphemisms for kicked the bucket. still adore the time in schoggiläbe at the hotel where they were like oh should we leave a message and she was like No need. Er ist ... schon abgereist. "hat sich Ihrer Haft entzogen" ist nearly as neat

huge fan of charlie and the affen

DU SCHLÄFST? OHNE MICH??

tessa has a sister? noted

so much is happening and there's half an hour left

aaaaand they're lost in the woods

oh right that fuckin other guy we still know nothing about

and NOW isabelles in a garbage can. and tessas shaving a dead chimp

god bless milan truly

isabelle you're slowly losing marbles go get some SLEEP woman

oh but there is some FASCINATING characterization going on at the intersection of isabelle digging the diamond out of garbage bags and climbing into the garbage to do it so she can give something to milan and have something for herself (No one's ever given me anything). and then have tessa list out the lauf der dinge all lead by greed and isabelle says not all of us have a chance at inheriting millions and tessa says what does that have to do with this. the rich kill for greed too just more elegantly and isabelle says you mean they don't get their own hands dirty. nibbling on her gently

MORE hbf

tessas subtle hoodie and sunglasses look very funny to me personally

oh tessa charlie needs you :(

wegenast with the schüfeli funniest fucking thing

i am so much fonder of her after this than i was actually. also the triumvirate momence was real good

Yeah that was a good one :)

#tatort zürich #no id

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yavieriel · 5 months

Text

Someone needs to suffer for convincing people that glass and marble are valid choices for making cutting boards.

If it's marble or glass, it's a pastry board meant for keeping dough cool while working it and you absolutely should not be using anything sharper than a pastry cutter on it.

Cutting boards need to be wood or plastic, soft enough that they don't dull your knives. Stop the knife abuse. Respect your tools!

#adventures in cooking #rant #op #gpoy

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eipisims · 2 years

Photo

Selection Kitchen

This kitchen set consists of 56 objects, details under the cut:

Baking tray (decor) - 1654 polys

Blender (decor) - 225 polys

Wall Cabinet (not modular) - 164 polys

Tall Cabinet (without glass doors) - 302 polys

Tall Cabinet (with glass doors) - 426 polys

Cloth Towel (decor, slots into wall rack) - 226 polys

Containers of ingredients (beans, rice, coffee, and flour) - 142 polys

Counters (modular, available in wood and marble or colors and marble combination) - around 150 polys each model

Counter islands (modular, available in wood and marble or colors and marble combination) - around 150-200 polys each model

Cutting board (decor, with slots) - 266 polys

Pair of standing cutting boards (decor) - 330 polys

Dish drying rack (decor) - 4513 polys

Fruit peeler (decor, slots into wall rack) - 1084 polys

Frying pan (decor, stackable) - 1146 polys

Electric Kettle (three options: decor, teapot, and coffee maker) - 1395 polys

Measuring cups/spoons (decor, slots into wall rack) - 637 polys

Electric mixer (two options, decor, or cupcake maker, see notes) - 707 polys

Mortar and Pestle (decor) - 1500 polys

Mug (decor, slots into wall rack) - 738 polys

Mugs stacked (decor) - 1396 polys

Oranges bowl (decor) - 2688 polys

Countertop oven (requires DHD, EA's recolor) - 484 polys

Pizza cutter (decor, slots into wall rack) - 852 polys

Plate (decor, stackable) - 468 polys

Stacked Plates (decor, stackable) - 3334 polys

Cooking pot (decor, two options, open and closed lid) - 1142 polys

Potato masher (decor, slots into wall rack) - 1337

Rolling pin (decor)- 770 polys

Salt & Pepper shakers (decor) - 562 polys

Saucepan (decor) - 892 polys

Shelves (many slots, two options: wood and colors and marble) - 948 polys

Single shelf (many slots, two options: wood and colors and marble) - 490 polys

Slotted spoon (decor, slots into wall rack) - 945 polys

Spatula (decor, slots into wall rack) - 592 polys

Stacked bowls (decor) - 1666 polys

Stovetop (requires DHD) - 2400 polys

Toaster (decor) - 2828 polys

Tongs (decor, slots into wall rack) - 790 polys

Trash bin (functional, see notes) - 923 polys

Tupperware (decor, two options: open and closed stackable) - 1030 polys

Utensils cup (decor) - 1539 polys

Utensil wall rack (long, fits 7 utensils) - 302 polys

Utensil wall rack (short, fits 5 utensils) - 246 polys

Whisk (decor, slots into wall rack) - 1264 polys

Notes:

You can find these items in the catalogue by typing " selection"

Items are BGC, have all LOD, no occluders, etc.

Everything is BGC except for the oven and stovetop which require Dream Home Decorator.

The functional mixer uses Ravasheen 's custom tuning which allows for an object to act as an anchor in order for the sim to start baking cupcakes. With this item you don't need the big EA's cupcake maker, jut click on the mixer and the cupcake options will appear. Please read RVSN's detailed explanation of how this works.

The cabinets are not modular, meaning they work as regular shelving units (one goes against the wall and the other on the floor). I recommend you using the alt key to place them well (or MOO cheat which is always recommended for decor purposes). Also if you have a light source coming from only one side of the room then half of the object will look darker. This is not something that I can change or know how, shadows in The Sims act strangely.

The trash bin is functional, but there's no BGC trash with an animation for opening the lid (and I don't know how to animate objects). Therefore, when throwing away the trash you can see it going through the lid. Personally I don't mind it and I really wanted to have a trashcan with a lid to cover the odors. When it's full/overflowing instead of pilling up trash on the top it appears all around it.

The wall rack will only be useful when used with the utensils made for it, and likewise. This is because I made the utensils fit perfectly onto each hook. I did this so you could pick and choose which objects to display, and also their individual swatches (and even size up/down each one). Here's a gif displaying it:

Thanks to:

@peacemaker-ic for the wood textures

@ravasheencc for her custom tuning

T.O.U:

You are free to do anything you want with these items, just don't put behind perma-paywalls, always give back to the community! Early access is OK.

Early Access now at my Patreon~

Public Release: 29/06/2022

@maxismatchccworld

#CC #MYCC #cc creator #the sims cc #ccfinds #the sims #simmer #sims #TheSims #sims 4 #TS4 #ts4cc #ts4 cc #custom content #ts4 custom content #sims 4 custom content #s4customcontent #kitchen #eipisims

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springfallendeer · 1 year

Text

The Bells - 6

The next part of the fic with @xitsensunmoon's boys! More than spicy. Very spicy. Explicit shit happens. This chapter is also 6k words so beware

Previous | Next

Part 6: A Taste of things to Come

||Ayala remains in her kitchen, blissfully unaware of the eyes that have narrowed in on her location.||

||There’s no bells. No sounds that might otherwise give away the presence of the predator.||

||Just the sound of a knife cutting through vegetables.||

||The thump of the metal against the wood, masks the sound of footsteps upon the tile floor.||

||Chop. Step.||

||Chop, chop. Step, step.||

||The teasing chime of a bell.||

||Then a startled gasp.||

||Large, skeletal looking hands dart out to wrap around her frame. Long fingers wrap around her throat and waist, trapping her in place, before pulling her back against a metal body.||

||For a split second, she panics. The knife falls into the sink as she momentarily thrashes. It only takes an instant for her heart rate to spike and for her chest to be left heaving from the shock.||

||She recognizes him right away. While she isn’t exactly thrilled about his means of introduction, she isn’t about to scold him. Not while her chest is heaving. Not when she understands that her voice would betray her.||

||The vampire chuckles as the woman stops struggling. He moves his fingers ever so slightly, caressing her neck as he moves his hand downward to teasingly press his palm against her chest.||

||He can feel her heart pounding.||

||“Excited to see me~?” Moon playfully inquires. His dark, ominous voice resonates loud and clear in her ear as a warning of what’s to come.||

||She can’t help but tremble as his tongue darts out to lick the shell of her ear.||

||“I’m excited to see you~” He trills, allowing his breath to tease her skin. His voice plays with her ear, sending excited tremors rolling through her body. Aware of his affect on her, he lightly bites the shell of her ear. He applies very little pressure with his teeth, assuring that he won’t break the skin.||

||She bites her lip in response, aware of what he’s doing.||

||He’s teasing her. He wants something. Probably her blood. Possibly her body.||

||He’s trying to get her wound up so that she’ll submit and give him what he’s come for.||

||She hates that it’s working. By now, her body has gotten so accustomed to his touch that he needs to do very little in order to entice her.||

||Her body wants something. Something that the vampires still have yet to give. And she’s stubborn enough that she still refuses to ask them for it.||

||“What do you want?” Ayala replies, forcing her voice to be cold but failing in the process. Her voice leaves her as more of a shaky, uneven quiver.||

||The lunar vampire relaxes his grip ever so slightly as the woman reaches into the sink to retrieve her dropped knife. He allows her to resume her meal prep. Which is strange, for him. She would have sooner expected him to drag her further away from the counter in order to keep her from getting distracted.||

||She cleans the knife.||

||His fingers trail around her waist. His hand moves as if he means to let her go.||

||He’s up to something. She knows it. He never lets his prey escape, he only lets them run so that he can chase.||

||She moves the cutting board further back so that she can clean the mess that was made.||

||His other hand moves away from her chest. He leans forward, resting his chin on her shoulder as a devious chuckle escapes him.||

||She can’t help but be hyper aware of his every movement as she attempts to focus on her task.||

||Both hands press against her. His palms find her waist. His fingers slowly slide across her skin.||

||He slips his fingers into her pants, firmly caressing her hips all the while.||

||She drops her knife again. This time on the counter.||

||The chime of his bells drowns out the sound of the knife as it clatters on the marble surface.||

||“M-Moon?!” She stammers out his name, feeling her cheeks flush as the vampire casually coaxes the fabric down her hips. Then down her thighs.||

||Her breath hitches as her pants and underwear pool around her ankles, leaving her standing half naked in her kitchen.||

||What’s more, she’s trapped between the vampire and her counter.||

||He purrs as he wraps his hands around her legs. His fingers slip between her thighs as he coaxes her legs apart.||

||“I’m hungry~” Moon simply replies, his voice having now become an aroused growl.||

||He presses closer to her briefly as he shifts to better look over her shoulder. He turns his face to her, purring with amusement as she tries to avoid his eyes.||

||His glowing, red, hungry eyes.||

||He playfully licks her cheek.||

||Then the corner of her mouth. He entices her into a kiss with a slow, demanding drag of his tongue against her lips.||

||She tries to resist the temptation, but fails miserably.||

||His teasing purrs somehow turn sweet as he steals her lips in a kiss. Slow and heated. Just to warm her up. Just to excite her.||

||Hungry as he is, he’s after more than just a taste of her blood.||

||He brings a hand up so that he can hold her face. For no reason other than he wants to feel her chin resting against his palm. He devours her mouth with vigor, enjoying the taste of her tongue as it rubs against his.||

||He sneaks one hand higher up her thigh so that he can curl his fingers between her legs. He gently strokes between her folds, testing to see how slick she is; encouraging her to grow more slick for him.||

||This is his meal prep.||

||He’s here to eat. And eat he will. As soon as his food is good and ready.||

||“Starting without me~?” The familiar voice of the other vampire sounds from nearby.||

||Moon chuckles against the woman's lips. He doesn’t bother to break the kiss. There’s no need to. Either Sun will approach to butt their way into supper, or they’ll patiently wait their turn. Either way, he’s going to eat first.||

||Sun casually approaches the pair. He steps into the woman’s line of sight, where he smiles at her as she briefly locks eyes with him.||

||She already looks so dazed.||

||“Remember to let her breath, Moon~” Sun chuckles.||

||What follows suit is the sound of Ayala gasping as the lunar vampire relinquishes her mouth.||

||He had definitely forgotten that she needed to breathe.||

||Sun butts in, getting himself situated between Ayala and the counter. Once he’s comfortable, he steals her face from Moon. It’s his turn for a kiss.||

||And kiss her he does, while the other vampire sets out to enjoy his meal.||

||Sun sucks on her tongue as Moon shifts to kiss her shoulder, for no reason other than he wants to feel her tremble. He pulls his hand out from between her legs, having finally concluded that she was good and ready for him.||

||He coaxes her hips back ever so slightly as he kneels behind her.||

||A devious purr escapes him as he takes a while longer to add the final touches. He wraps his hands around her thighs, keeping her legs spread apart as he kisses her lower back. He licks her back a second after, just to give her a hint of what he intends to do.||

||She trembles pathetically between them, coaxing a chuckle past his lips.||

||Sun breaks the kiss to let her gasp as Moon licks her lower.||

||“M-Moon!” Ayala stammers out, her voice leaving her as a breathless gasp as she feels the vampire swipe his tongue between her folds.||

||Sun chuckles, gently tightening his hold on her face to force her to look at him. He wants to see that blissed out expression of hers. He wants to watch her as she melts on Moon’s tongue.||

||“Feels good, doesn’t it~?” Sun purrs, his smile never wavering as he studies the woman’s expression.||

||Ayala can’t help but squirm. She clearly wants to do something, anything, but her dazed out mind can’t seem to decide what it is that she intends to do.||

||Her hips can’t rock with Moon holding her thighs.||

||She can’t lean forward with Sun stood in front of her. Not that he would mind her leaning against him. Those sweet, hypnotic eyes tell her as much.||

||But as Moon’s teeth lightly graze against her flesh, she can’t help the hint of panic that sneaks into her system.||

||This is the first time they’ve pushed so far with the physical intimacy. Usually they’re only stimulating each other through their clothes.||

||Her brain can’t help but associate the feel of their teeth with the sting of their bite. And Moon has his mouth on something that she really, really doesn’t want him to sink his teeth into.||

||“N-not there! P-plea-” She tries to plead, but her voice dies before she can finish her sentence.||

||Sun’s smile falters ever so slightly as he stares into her eyes. But he quickly corrects himself.||

||Her hands tightly grip the counter. Fearful tears well in her eyes.||

||The solar vampire gently shushes her.||

||“Easy now, easy. You’re alright.” Sun murmurs, leaning down ever so slightly so that he can kiss the top of the woman’s head.||

||Moon ushers his tongue into her, unaware that he’s grazing her with his teeth. He’s not hurting her. He’s not biting her. He’s only licking. But she seems to panic more, because she can feel his teeth.||

||“Tell me what’s wrong.” Sun gently commands. He isn’t exactly sure why she’s suddenly started to panic. But he doesn’t just want to force the panic away. It would only ruin the trust that they had managed to build with her up to this point.||

||“T-teeth!” Ayala manages to stammer out, her voice hitching in her throat as she feels Moon’s teeth brush against her again.||

||The lunar vampire withdraws his tongue so that he can pull his mouth a little further back. So that he’ll stop brushing against her with his teeth. She visibly relaxes in response.||

||“I wasn’t going to bite you.” Moon comments, speaking between each stroke of his tongue.|| ||“Not down here. It would hurt you.” He specifies.||

||He fully intends on biting her tonight. He fully intends on drinking her blood. He’s hungry.||

||But he would never bite her in such a delicate area. He was a predator, but he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t want to hurt her.||

||“Ayala, darling, we would never hurt you like that.” Sun chimes in, gently lifting the woman’s chin so that he can better make eye contact with her. He isn’t lying, either. The fact that she would even consider them capable of hurting her in such a way was almost insulting.||

||There’s a sudden pain in her eyes. A lone tear rolls down her cheek.||

||Maybe they had misjudged their progress and moved to more intimate steps when she wasn’t ready for it? She seemed so genuinely distressed so out of the blue.||

||“H-hurts! H-hurts!” Ayala suddenly whines. There’s pain in her voice. Audible, distressed pain.||

||The vampires are left momentarily confused. Because they aren’t hurting her. Moon has completely stopped licking her.||

||Then they smell blood. Her blood.||

||Neither of them are willing to ask where the smell has come from.||

||Moon knows it’s not his fault, because she’s not bleeding. He hasn’t grazed her with his teeth and he hasn’t nicked her with his nails.||

||Sun knows that he hasn’t done anything. All he’s done is hold her face. And her face isn’t bleeding.||

||So where has that smell suddenly come from?||

||Moon suddenly has the realization when he notices Ayala’s stance.||

||“Sun! Counter!” The lunar vampire suddenly hisses out, having figured out what’s happened.||

||Sun breaks eye contact with the woman as he turns to one side to check the counter. Nothing there. Her hand is just squeezing the marble edge.||

||Then he turns to the other side.||

||“Oh...” He murmurs.||

||He’s found the source of the smell.||

||Ayala’s hand must have slipped.||

||Her hand and the knife she’s squeezing are covered in blood. She’s absentmindedly wrapped her fingers around the blade in her panic.||

||Sun gently coaxes the knife out of her hand to prevent her from hurting herself further.||

||She presses her face against his chest as she trembles, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions. Her dazed mind playing cruel tricks to try and make her believe that one of them has hurt her.||

||Moon kisses her on her back to try and calm her down.||

||Sun pushes the knife into the sink, before gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist.||

||“Ayala.” He gently calls her name, trying to get the woman’s attention. But she refuses to look up at him.|| ||“Ayala. Look at me.” He commands. He doesn’t raise his voice, but he makes his tone more stern.||

||The woman tentatively turns her face up to look at him.||

||Sun makes a show of licking her injured hand, maintaining eye contact with her all the while. No smile. Just a calm, reassuring gaze.||

||Her first instinct is to squeeze her hand shut. He doesn’t prevent her from doing so. Instead, he takes the time to coax her into relaxing her fingers so that he can reach the cut.||

||She’s torn her hand open badly. The blade cut easily and painfully into her palm when she held it.||

||Sun coaxes the pain away with every stroke of his tongue. Each time he licks her, the cut gets smaller. Until eventually the cut is completely gone, and with it gone, so is the pain.||

||A soft smile tugs at his features as he sees the pain leave her eyes.||

||He licks away every drop of evidence, cleaning her hand completely. When he’s done, he kisses the top of her hand.||

||“There we go~” Sun murmurs, adjusting his hold on Ayala’s hand so that he can gently cradle it in his.|| ||“You’re safe.” He remarks, repeating a phrase that he’s uttered many, many times since first meeting the woman. All to reassure her that she need not fear the animatronic blood suckers.|| ||“I promise. We’ll never hurt you. Not in a way that would be real. You might know the sting or our teeth and claws, but never in a way that will make it genuinely unpleasant. For as long as you’re ours, we’ll take good, good care of you. Promise.” He states, going out of his way to really drill it into the woman’s head that they have no desire to do her harm.||

||They might bite. They might scratch. They might leave her with some bruises and they might exhaust her little body. But at no point will they do something worthy of making themselves out to be monsters. That is their promise.||

||All she needs to do is trust them.||

||Sun lets out a little purr as Ayala leans against him. He reaches to coax her other hand off of the counter so that she can rest it against him. So that she can rely on him further.||

||“Are you alright?” Sun sweetly asks, moving so that he can cup her chin again. He can’t help but purr more as she allows her face to rest heavily in his palm.||

||Ayala remains quiet for a moment.||

||Moon proceeds to drag his tongue along her back, coaxing a quiet whine out of her. He’s not trying to scold her or to rush her. It’s just difficult for him to keep to himself. He’s only a few inches from her arousal, and he wants to resume his meal.||

||He’s trying to be patient.||

||He’s trying to wait.||

||But as he licks her back and lazily rubs her thighs with his fingers, it’s obvious that he’s getting antsy.||

||“Yes...” Ayala eventually murmurs. She struggles to keep from squirming as Moon teases her with his tongue.||

||She jolts and whimpers as he purposefully scrapes his teeth against her back to tease her.||

||“Do you want us to stop?” Sun asks. He’s giving her the permission to call it quits for tonight, if she wants. They’ll still steal a drink from her. There’s no getting out of that. But he’s giving her the OK to tell them that she’s done with the sexual touches for the night. They wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t feeling comfortable enough to continue.||

||“... No.” She quietly responds, her voice barely above a whisper. Not that it needs to be any louder than that.||

||She gasps as Moon gently bites the back of her hip. He doesn’t break the skin, but he leaves a mark. A faint, red mark.||

||“Moon won’t bite you down there.” Sun reiterates, hoping to keep the woman calm. He doesn’t want her to get spooked again when she inevitably feels Moon’s teeth against her.||

||She nods shyly, embarrassed about her earlier panic. It was stupid for her to think that Moon might bite her in such a delicate spot. He wasn’t that vicious. And she knew it.||

||The lunar vampire offers a little chuckle.||

||“Turn her around~” He requests. He’s come to the conclusion that part of the issue is actually the position that she’s standing in. It’s hard for him to get his tongue where he wants it without having to graze her with his teeth.||

||Sun lets out a little chuckle, moving his arms so that he can lift the woman up instead.||

||“I have a better idea~” He replies. Moon backs away to get out of Sun’s way as they proceed to carry Ayala over to the kitchen table. Once there, he carefully lays her down on top of it.|| ||“There~ That should make it easier for everyone to eat.” He muses, making a bit of a crude joke. He laughs as Ayala’s cheeks flush from the implications.||

||Moon makes his way over to the table to take his place as Sun steps around so that he can stand on the other side. Once everyone is where they need to be, they set out to enjoy their meal.||

||Well, Moon does. Sun has to wait his turn. And he does so very reluctantly.||

||The lunar vampire pulls up a chair and makes himself comfortable between Ayala’s legs. His hands find their way back to her thighs, holding them open as he leans forward. He kisses and licks her abdomen, enjoying the way her body trembles in response to his touch.||

||When he licks between her legs again, he has much easier access to his meal. He grazes her less with his teeth. Now that she’s able to physically see what he’s doing, she seems more at ease with the location of his mouth.||

||And he gets to amuse himself by staring up into her eyes as he works his tongue against her. At least for a while.||

||Sun can’t help but get jealous. He’s being left out. No kissing or touching or anything. So he gently tugs Ayala’s face back so that he can gaze into her eyes. He at least wants to see her blissed out expression when Moon brings her to orgasm.||

||What he doesn’t count on is the fact that she can see the hunger in his eyes.||

||She reaches for him, completely unprompted, and she feels him up. She maintains eye contact with the solar vampire as her hand tentatively explores his body.||

||First his stomach.||

||Then lower.||

||It’s Sun’s turn to offer a startled little sound as her hand meekly fondles his clothed erection.||

||He hasn’t asked her to do this. He’s given her no requests and no commands.||

||She’s reached out to try and please him completely of her own desire. And Sun is perfectly willing to let her do as she pleases.||

||He helps her when she tries to loosen his pants.||

||Moon can’t help but get a little distracted, rightly curious now that she’s taking some initiative. Usually they have to coax her into touching them back. She’s never been unwilling, but she’s always been shy.||

||Sun can’t help but purr and growl as his erection finds her hand. This is the first time that she’s touched it directly, rather than just through his clothes.||

||Her hand is so warm and soft.||

||He can’t help but move closer to her. His thighs press against the table as he brings his phallus directly into her line of sight.||

||He watches her expression as she stares at it. After months of dry humping and fondling, she’s finally able to see what the vampire has been hiding.||

||She appears to approve of it. She establishes as much with her curious eyes and through delicate touches.||

||The vampire can’t help how his chest rumbles with a purr as she begins to carefully stroke him. Her hand feels nice. She doesn’t need to handle him as softly as she is, but he certainly isn’t going to complain. She’s clearly trying to make him feel good.||

||They can worry about teaching her how to touch them later. For now, he’s satisfied with allowing her to touch him at her own pace.||

||Moon can’t help but feel a little envious. Just a little. As much as he’s enjoying his meal, he can’t help but wonder how nice her hands would feel if they were wrapped around his cock.||

||She surprises the vampires further by hesitantly putting her mouth on Sun.||

||She doesn’t try to swallow him. Not at the start. Instead, she curiously feels him with her lips and tongue. Starting as close to his pelvis as she can reach with her mouth. Then she moves lower, dragging her lips along his tentacle as she slowly moves her hand.||

||There’s no denying the excitement that Sun feels as she tastes him. There’s no denying the fact that he wants to slip into her mouth and rut into her throat. But he doesn’t. He has to wait. He has to wait for her to take him into her mouth on her own accord.||

||Once she does that, he’ll take charge.||

||Until then, all that he can do is wait. And wait. And wait. For as long as she needs to work up the courage to swallow him herself.||

||To think that she could so easily strip him of any sense of control.||

||Moon can’t help but laugh at the other’s frustration as he continues with his meal. At this point, he’s going out of his way to purposefully distract the woman with each stroke of his tongue.||

||He’s being slow on purpose. He’s pushing her to the edge without allowing her to topple over.||

||He’s intentionally driving her mad, because he loves the sight of her squirming. He loves watching her struggling to focus on what she’s doing while he’s pushing her right up to the brink of orgasm.||

||Being able to fuck with Sun in the process is just the icing on the cake.||

||But regardless of how much he’d like to drag this out, he can’t help but be a slave to his own needs. Watching her try so hard to please Sun is only reminding him of the fact that his body has gone untouched this entire time. And if she’s even remotely willing to please him, then he doesn’t want to spoil his sexual appetite by pleasuring himself.||

||Time to finish her off.||

||He wraps his lips around her swollen clitoris to gently suckle on the sensitive flesh, teasing it with his tongue as he does. He also slips two fingers into her. He massages that sweet spot along the top of her vaginal canal to increase her pleasure.||

||Ayala orgasms with a drawn out moan. Her legs reflexively wrap around Moon’s shoulders to cling to him as she reaches her climax.||

||He purrs, adoring the way that her body trembles in response to the pleasure he’s subjected her too.||

||He sucks firmly on her clitoris one last time as he pulls his mouth away. Her flesh escapes him with a faint pop.||

||The bell on his hat jingles momentarily as he pulls his face back to study his work. He doesn't realize how much more the bell distracts her.||

||Her cunt is so slick from his teasing. So flushed from her arousal. Slightly engorged from the blood that’s rushed to her heated skin.||

||He sinks his teeth into her thigh. He hears Sun grunt quietly as her grip on their arousal suddenly increases.||

||He drinks up the crimson fluid that seeps from the fresh wound, and he continues to stroke her inner walls with his fingers all the while. At no point does he allow the pleasure to stop. He makes sure she enjoys every second that he has with her.||

||He concludes with his final meal, but he doesn’t bother with making the wound fully closed. He only licks enough to stem the bleeding. Sun will need to take a drink soon. They can worry about closing the wound then.||

||By the time he’s finished with his drink, Ayala has started to tentatively take Sun into her mouth.||

||He stands up so that he can better see what she’s doing. The fact that his clothed groin winds up pressed flush against her slick, inviting cunt is just a happy little accident.||

||As Ayala lays her head back to let Sun into her mouth, Moon lightly grinds against her groin. Just enough to stimulate her without overly stimulating himself.||

||With her having giving him the invitation, Sun takes to fucking her throat. So he wraps his hands around her face, and he thrusts. Moon grinds again.||

||The bells on their clothes start to sing in time with their movements.||

||They make a game of it, keeping her thoroughly stimulated in their drive to maintain the pleasure. Sun carefully works deeper into her throat with each thrust, mindful not to choke her. Moon continues to grind against her clitoris.||

||Thrust, grind. The bells chime||

||Thrust, grind. The bells ring.||

||Thrust, grind. The bells sing.||

||Ayala lets out a sweet little whine as Moon’s antics push her to another orgasm. He can’t help but offer an aroused growl in turn, having long since taken notice of how wet the front of his pants have grown thanks to her drooling lower lips.||

||He wants to fill her up and make her his personal plaything. But he can’t. Not yet. It's still much too soon.||

||But he can enjoy the feel of her wrapped around his fingers. So he slips his fingers into her again to indulge in the warmth of her needy cunt as Sun finishes up with her throat.||

||The solar animatronic lets out a faint growl as he reaches his peak. He holds her face nice and still as he spills into her waiting mouth.||

||He makes her drink. Drink she does. Every drop of his vampiric seed is gulped down by her freshly violated throat.||

||When he pulls out of her mouth completely, he locks eyes with her again.||

||She’s so far gone he can’t help but find it cute. There’s such a dazed expression plastered on her face, but she’s clearly still aware of what’s happening. He can tell, because she’s still responding to Moon’s devious fingers.||

||She’s struggling to catch her breath when the lunar vampire seems so intent on making her moan.||

||“One more, pet~” Moon purrs, moving his hand with a bit more intensity as he feels her insides start to lightly squeeze around him. She’s so close to another orgasm. This is the last one he gets to give her for the night, so he wants it to count.|| ||“Squeeze me tight~ Nice and tight~” He adds, egging her on.||

||He licks the corner of his mouth as she obediently complies.||

||Her insides clench around him night and tight. So much so that he stops moving his fingers, just to be sure that he won’t accidentally hurt her. But that doesn’t stop him from rubbing her swollen clitoris with his thumb, just to keep the pleasure strong.||

||She makes a mess of his hand, spraying the evidence of her orgasm against his palm as her moan breaks into a partial sob. Tears well in her eyes. Not because she’s in pain, but because she’s being overstimulated. But Moon doesn’t pull his fingers out of her until her insides relax.||

||Once his hand is free, he greedily licks the evidence of her orgasm off of his palm and fingers, letting out a little lusty growl all the while.||

||Sun can’t help but purr, having had a front row seat to her sweet, blissed out face as Moon coaxed that last orgasm out of her.||

||“Hm~... Maybe we should stop here for tonight~” He remarks. Moon can’t help but internally groan.||

||He wants to feel her throat. But given the fact that he made her cry with her last orgasm, she probably wasn’t up to continuing.||

||Or so they thought.||

||She surprises them again with how she shyly, but tightly grips the fabric of Sun’s pants.||

||“You don’t want to stop?...” Sun inquires, unable to hide the baffled tune that’s snuck into his voice. He gently wipes the tears off of her cheeks as she shakes her head.||

||“M-Moon too... H-he hasn’t-” She stammers out, struggling to catch her breath.||

||The lunar vampire can’t help the smirk that tugs at his features.||

||Despite her exhaustion, she wants to make him feel good too. And he certainly isn’t going to complain about that.||

||“Alright~” Moon chuckles, taking a step back to work his erection out of his pants. Just to make it easier for her when he and Sun swap places.||

||“After you catch your breath. We can’t have you fainting halfway through~” Sun chimes in, gently reminding the other vampire that the woman is still exhausted. They needed to at least let her come back down from her high before they resumed stimulating her poor, feeble body. Humans just weren’t as durable as them.||

||Ayala nods. She certainly won’t complain about that. Not at all.||

||The vampires swap places once everything is set.||

||Sun walks around to take his seat between Ayala’s legs. There, he takes the time to drink. He sinks his teeth into the mark left behind by Moon, coaxing fresh blood onto his tongue. He gently caresses the woman’s legs as he drinks, closing his eyes as he listens to the little sounds escaping her lips.||

||No sobbing. No screaming. Just a faint, pained whimper as he bit her, followed by her tiredly murmuring his name as he sips her blood.||

||He holds her hand when she brings it down to her thigh. Just as general reassurance, because it makes her feel safe.||

||Moon, meanwhile, moves around to stand in front of Ayala.||

||He doesn’t bother trying to hide his wriggling interest. Sun just had his cock in her mouth and she spent a fair amount of time getting herself familiar with it. Now it’s her turn to do the same with what Moon has to offer.||

||She can touch him and get familiar with him while she rests. There’s nothing to stop her from doing so.||

||All Moon does is give her the opportunity to look and touch. She eagerly accepts that opportunity.||

||The lunar vampire purrs in response to her touch. Her hand is soft. Her skin is warm.||

||So are her lips. It takes a lot of self control on his part to keep from trying to rut into her mouth right then and there. But he manages to behave and wait for her to give him permission.||

||Ayala is bolder with Moon. She’s not as hesitant to touch him. Not because she finds him less intimidating than Sun, but because the two are very similar in shape and size.||

||To her, Moon’s writhing blue tentacle isn’t all that different from Sun’s yellow one. It feels the same in her hand. The only difference is the color and who it’s attached to. In the end, she doesn’t take long to decide that she wants to taste him, and he certainly doesn’t complain about that.||

||He slips a hand under the back of her head to keep her supported as she lays back to make herself comfortable.||

||“Deep breath~” Moon purrs.||

||He watches as her chest expands.||

||As soon as her lungs start to deflate, he presses into her waiting mouth.||

||“Nnn~ G-good girl~” He rasps, admittedly just a tiny bit overwhelmed by the feel of her warmth enveloping his cock.||

||Ayala makes some sort of humming sound.||

||It makes her throat lightly vibrate around him.||

||The sudden spike in pleasure makes him jerk his hips. The bell on his hat sings out in response to his sudden movements.||

||He lets out a lusty growl, rolling his pelvis so that he can properly rut into her throat.||

||“I don’t know what that was-” Moon purrs, slowly pressing into the woman’s mouth “but you need to do that again~” He commands.||

||Ayala hums around him again.||

||Again, pleasure shoots through him, making him jolt faintly. The bells on his hat chime faintly from his abrupt, jerky movements.||

||He licks the corner of his mouth, purring in response to it all.||

||He makes a game of it. She moans around his cock. Then he thrusts harder into her throat. He lets her control if and when he gets rough with her. All she needs to do is moan, and he’ll ruin her.||

||While the two enjoy themselves, Sun concludes that it’s his turn to enjoy the same meal that Moon helped themselves too earlier.||

||He licks his way up her thigh as he moves closer to center.||

||She’s still so wet.||

||There’s no need for him to hesitate. Moon spent a lot of time licking and touching her earlier. She certainly didn’t hesitate before swallowing up the lunar vampire, either. So he doesn’t feel the need to take his time.||

||His tongue slides into her nice and easy, coaxing a startled noise out of her.||

||The sudden loud chime of Moon’s bell establishes that he’s responded to her moans in kind with a rough jerk of his hips.||

||She’s made into their plaything.||

||Sun licks up the slick, sticky nectar of her arousal with every thrust of his tongue. Every so often, he withdraws his tongue so that he can gently suckle on her clitoris. When he does so, he fills her with his fingers just so that he can keep her full of him.||

||On his end, it becomes a game to find out how much he can do before she loses control of her voice. And when she does, he gets to enjoy his small victory when he hears Moon’s bells sing.||

||This leaves Ayala trapped in the middle, being assaulted by the pleasure on both ends. Moon’s cock feels good as it rubs against her tongue and the inside of her throat. Sun’s tongue and fingers are absolutely sinful.||

||She loves it. That’s why she keeps moaning.||

||But it’s so fucking overwhelming. She can’t breathe with Moon buried in her throat. Her chest is on fire and her head is getting foggy.||

||Every time Sun stops to suck on her clitoris, he makes her orgasm. And she isn’t even sure he’s aware of that fact, with her voice muffled by the cock in her throat. He keeps rubbing that sweet spot inside of her with his fingers.||

||It’s all so intense. She can't breathe. Her head is foggy. Tears are welling in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.||

||This needs to stop. This needs to stop.||

||But she doesn’t want it to stop.||

||She coughs and gasps for breath as Moon abruptly withdraws from her throat.||

||She trembles and closes her eyes to keep his semen out of her eyes as he ejaculates all over her face.||

||Her trembling only increases as Sun finishes her off one last time. He takes a copy from Moon’s book, using his mouth and fingers to make her orgasm so hard that she sprays her orgasm all over his hand.||

||She isn’t even given the time to catch her breath before Moon reclaims her mouth.||

||He’s completely unbothered by the evidence of his recent orgasm dropping all over her face. He kneels so that he can pull her into a rough, demanding kiss. His tongue slips into her throat as Sun’s tongue slips into her once more.||

||Just a little extra stimulation, before they break away completely to let her come down from her high.||

||They get her cleaned up as she catches her breath. Sun is mindful not to stimulate her too much as he cleans between her legs. Moon makes sure not to get anything in her eyes as he cleans her face.||

||She’s picked up off of the table and carried to the next room to be laid on the couch.||

||There isn’t a chance in hell that she’ll be trying to cook now. She can barely feel her legs.||

||Hell. She can barely lift her head.||

||The vampires might not be the best in terms of cooking, but they manage to make her something so that she won’t go to bed on an empty stomach. They have to keep her taken care of, after all.||

||They have to look after her until she’s well enough to look after herself.||

||So she’ll be stuck with them for a while longer. Not that she’ll protest.||

||She feels strangely safe in their arms.||

#Ayala #vampire!sun #vampire!moon #xitsen's boys

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lady-wren-of-tella · 1 year

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Undeserving (I Love You Too Much to Let You Stay) -- a Zivy oneshot

word count: 5,215 tw// mentions of past abuse, extreme self-doubt I've been working on this oneshot for a while and I'm so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy this very self-indulgent piece.

love you guys <3 (and thank you @miirohs for your help + enthusiasm)

Zira wakes up with her skin crawling. Her eyes flutter open and Zira is greeted by the beautiful sight of Ivy’s freckled face soft with sleep, red hair resting on the pillow around her like a halo of protective fire.

The sun streams through the bedroom window, light blessing Ivy with its golden touch.

Zira looks at the personification of perfection and feels her heart sink.

With grace and stealth learned on the most bloodstained of fields, Zira slides out of bed, careful not to disturb Ivy. She walks around the bed to close the curtains, trying to breathe through the feeling humming under her skin. Everything about this morning feels wrong, and, unfortunately, shrouding the bedroom in shadow doesn’t help anything.

Still asleep, Ivy lets out a deep exhale and Zira feels her body warm with a mix of affection and guilt.

She’s perfect, look at her, Zira’s mind whispers. You’re ruining her.

She dresses quickly, deftly slipping out of her bed clothes and putting on a simple day gown. The tailored fabric feels soothing on her skin, but the steel circlet she slides over her head to rest against her forehead feels better. Zira resists the urge to hold it to her nose just to let the calming smell of metal wash over her.

The sheets rustle as Ivy turns over and Zira’s heart jumps. Her heartstrings strain at the sight of the frown on Ivy’s face as her arm falls through a space beside her that should have been filled. Guilt pools in her gut, but every fiber of Zira’s body screams at her to get out.

The princess ducks out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible.

Mornings in the Imani palace are bright, sunlight bouncing off the marble tiles in the hallways. The guards draw the curtains away from the windows as Zira walks past, bowing shallowly.

Zira wants to scream.

Hide yourself away. You’ll hurt them if you stay close.

She scratches her nails down her forearm, finds a bit of comfort in the sting.

Walking to the kitchens takes longer than Zira thought it would. The route feels drawn out, with more corners to round and stairs to the basement, but eventually, her hands meet the worn wood of the kitchen doors and she pushes them aside.

Sam Yinlar, the royal cook, looks up and smiles at the sight of her, quickly retying the strings of his stained, white apron.

“It’s rather early,” Sam comments, quietly dismissing the other people working in the kitchen as Zira pushes herself up to sit on the farthest corner of the counters. “It’s been a while since you’ve visited me like this.”

Zira sighs, letting her head fall to her knees. “Hi, Sam.”

“Zira.”

She huffs, twitching her fingers and summoning a fork to her hand from right next to Sam. “If you’re not helpful, I’m going to leave.” She allows the ferrokinesis humming in her blood to sing, crushing the fork into a metal ball. “Better yet, I’m going to fire you.”

Sam isn’t phased, he continues cutting the vegetables on the cutting board in front of him, corner of his mouth tugged upwards with amusement. “With all due respect, Princess, you’ve been threatening me with that since you were seven. I’m going to call your bluff here.”

“Sam.”

“What’s bothering you, Zira?” Sam pushes, scooping the neat cubes of vegetables into a ceramic bowl. He gestures vaguely at her with the point of his cooking knife. “And don’t try to get around the question. I know your tricks.”

Zira pinches the metal ball, kneads it as if it was clay. “It’s Ivy,” she finally says, and winces because she knows how it sounds.

The royal cook freezes. He sets the knife down calmly and fixes Zira with a look so focused she wouldn’t dream of breaking eye contact. “Zira. Is everything okay? Is she hurting you?”

Zira wanted to scream, earlier. Now, her eyes water. Now, she wants to cry.

It takes a deep breath to keep the rivers of emotion at bay.

“No, Sam. It’s me.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “Elaborate. Now.”

“I think I’m hurting her,” Zira breathes, unable to help the way her eyes flick down to her hands, as if expecting to see scarlet pooling in the creases of her palms. “She’s too good for me, Sam. Everyone knows it.”

Flinching isn’t something Zira does much of anymore, but the sound of Sam stabbing his knife into the wood of his cutting board makes her tense too obviously to be missed.

“Zira Sevaan,” the man's voice rings, forceful as it bounces off the surfaces in the kitchen. “Look at me right now, and listen.”

She complies.

“Have you hurt her?” Sam asks and Zira frowns, irritation simmering in her gut at his stupid question.

“I just said-”

Sam sighs, yanking his cooking knife out of the cutting board and setting it down calmly once again. “I’m going to be blunt, Princess. Have you hurt her in the way your mother used to hurt you?”

Zira stills.

She swears a shadow shifts in the way it shouldn’t, but that’s just her memories playing tricks. They like creating little hallucinations to mess with me.

It takes work to make her vocal cords work to form the sounds of her answer. “No.”

An encouraging glint shines in Sam’s eyes. “Have you purposefully put her in situations where she could get hurt? Are you manipulating her?”

“She’s with me, Yinlar. I think that’s dangerous enough,” Zira shoots back bitterly. “You likely only know half of what I’ve done.”

Like always, Sam is patient, wise in his rebuttals. “I know you’ve killed people, I know you’ve done worse, and I know you’d do it again in a heartbeat if you had to.”

Again, Zira’s gaze flits down to her hands. Seeing tan, scarred flesh feels wrong. She almost craves the sticky sensation of blood seeping into every little line and crease in her skin, almost misses the sharp, unmistakable scent of it.

“It’s like I told you. I’m going to ruin her. I’ve done awful things– for Delphine’s sake I practically killed her best friends! She deserves someone so much better than someone damaged and morally unsound.” Zira rips off her circlet and rakes an angry hand through her hair, grateful she didn’t bother to braid it before coming down to the kitchens.

“She still loves you and chooses to be with you?” Sam asks pointedly.

Zira nods, and it pains her. “That’s the probl–”

Sam Yinlar cuts her off. “You haven’t coerced or manipulated her into being your partner, correct?”

“No. Of course not.”

He smiles. “You have done awful things, yes? And you’d do them again?”

Zira hesitates before delivering the honest answer waiting on her tongue, if only because the pause has the potential to make her sound like a better person. “If the situation called for it.”

If she asked me to, goes unsaid. If someone threatened or hurt her.

Sam smiles wider, and Zira braces herself for the killing blow.

The royal chef may not be a Mythica, may know nothing about what war feels like, but he beats Zira every time. He corrals her into a corner so she can’t escape with practiced deflection before forcing a mirror in front of her face and a basket full of truths into her arms.

“And no matter what, you’d never even think of harming Ivy?”

I’d rather die, Zira could say.

You’ve said that before, she knows Sam would retort calmly, so I don’t think that even begins to describe a fraction of your feelings towards this girl.

You’re right, Zira would admit.

She settles for a simple, “Never.”

Sam knows me well enough at this point to fill in the blanks.

The royal chef nods, as if Zira’s measly answers could solve her problem, the insecurity and guilt chewing at the worn threads of her being. “Then you have your answer, Princess. You aren’t hurting her, and you aren’t going to hurt her.”

Zira groans in annoyance, throwing her head back against the cabinets above her and relishing in the sound and spark of pain it produces. “You’re not getting it!”

Sam frowns. “Zira, you came to me with a concern, and I talked you through it. You said you thought you were hurting Ivy– that you didn’t deserve her, and I explained to you how that clearly isn’t the case.” He leans on the counter, weight on forearms. “What am I not getting?”

Zira wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Now, she does both.

The sob that rips its way out of her throat is painful, it sounds guttural, made worse by the way it echoes in the kitchen. Instinctively, she draws her knees to her chest, clawing at the skin of her upper arms as she wraps them around herself.

She buries her face in the little space her crossed arms create, letting her tears flow freely as her body trembles.

Sam is at Zira’s side in a heartbeat, standing in front of her and gently pulling her into his embrace. He drops his chin to rest atop her head, squeezing her body once to try and stop the shaking. “Hey. Kid. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Zira whimpers.

She feels pathetic, dirty.

She goes to claw at her skin again, but Sam stops her gently, just keeps hugging her until she eventually melts into the steady comfort of his hold.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it, Princess. Do you want to explain it to me?”

It takes a few seconds, far more than a few, but Zira eventually gathers herself enough to answer.

“I don’t deserve someone as perfect as her,” she whispers, words muffled by the rough fabric of Sam’s apron. “She’s far too good to be with me, and I don’t deserve her.”

The admission leaves her feeling scrubbed raw.

Sam exhales deeply, a thumb rubbing twice at her shoulder when she trembles again. “Ivy’s hardly perfect. She’s hurt and killed people too.”

Zira frowns. “Don’t do that,” she orders firmly. “Don’t try and make her sound like a bad person just to make me feel better about what I’ve done.” She takes a calming breath. “I don’t deserve someone good.”

Sam squeezes her tighter, but Zira knows he’s wrestling with the idea of pushing apart to look her in the eye. “I don’t care what anyone else says, Zira Sevaan. You deserve every good thing that comes your way.” He taps a random pattern onto her shoulder. “No one is perfect. Everyone has done good and bad things. The mistakes you make don’t define you as a person.”

Zira pushes herself away, quickly drying her tears. “They weren’t mistakes, though, Sam. I made the conscious decision to murder and torture people.”

“You realize it’s wrong, though,” Sam tries.

“I’d do it again.” Zira is stubborn.

“Zira,” Sam tries again, firm. “You are not a bad person. You did bad things, but that doesn’t make you a pad person. You were hurt. You are still hurting. The bad things you did don’t cancel out your right to heal.”

“That’s not what my mother said,” Zira mumbles, ghosting a thumb over her forearms as if remembering how it felt to have bruises there. “That’s not what a lot of people say.”

Sam frowns. “Your mother was abusive and I don’t care what other people have to say. You deserve to be happy.”

Vulnerability is terrifying. Vulnerability flays Zira limb from limb, dissects her for Sam’s observant eyes to pick apart. This time, she doesn’t shy away. This time, she sticks it out and steeps in the discomfort.

“Feeling happy feels wrong, sometimes. It feels like I deserve that almost less than I deserve Ivy,” Zira confesses, falling into the embrace Sam offers again.

Sam just holds her, simple and meaningful in his display of affection and comfort. “I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it: you deserve the good things that are happening to you, you deserve to have Ivy and all the happiness she brings you, and you are not a bad person.”

The tears start flowing again and Zira doesn’t bother stopping them. She lets them fall, lets Sam’s words soak into the hollow cracks that had formed over the years of her existence.

The two of them take solace in the silence.

“I’m a good person,” Zira tries out saying, just to hear the way it rolls off of her tongue. She whispers it like it’s a secret.

It feels almost instinctive, the way Sam’s hold on her tightens. “You are. You really are.”

Zira keeps going. “I deserve good things.”

“You do, Princess.”

“I deserve the happiness my partner makes me feel.” Her voice cracks and wavers. I deserve to wake up beside her every morning and brush her soft hair away from her pretty face just to kiss her on the nose. I deserve to be able to bicker with her about staying in bed or actually fulfilling our duties.

“I couldn’t have said it better, kiddo,” Sam whispers. “Now how about we make some plica for you to enjoy at breakfast with her?”

Zira smiles softly, drying the final tears from the corners of her eyes as the two of them step apart and she hops down from the counter. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you, Sam.”

Already walking away to grab ingredients from the cabinets, Sam smiles at her over his shoulder. “Go be helpful and grab some bowls for me.”

Anytime, Princess, goes unsaid.

— --

Zira takes a deep breath before pushing open the doors of the library with her foot, tray stacked high with plica in hand. The servants said she’d be here. I hope they’re right, she thinks as she balances the tray while slipping through the space in between the doors.

Sure enough, a head of familiar, red hair whips around at her entry.

Ivy’s face goes soft, eyes sparkling, and Zira feels her heart warm at the sight.

“Good morning, love,” Ivy says, beckoning her lover over. “You brought plica!” she exclaims happily, spotting the contents of the tray. “Is that what you were doing this morning?”

Walking over to set the tray of pastries down on the big table in the center of the table, Zira settles down on the couch right next to Ivy, settling against her side even as her gut swirls with guilt she tries to get rid of. “I thought I’d pay a visit to Sam,” she answers, shrugging in an attempt to seem casual.

An arm comes to rest around Zira’s shoulders, soft fingers brushing across the nape of her neck, and Zira’s heart jumps. “That early? You should have stayed in bed and visited him later,” Ivy admonishes fondly, thumb ghosting over the base of her lover’s skull

Zira’s breath catches in her throat and her heart skips too many beats.

You’re going to hurt her.

She flinches backwards hard enough that she tumbles off of the couch, knees and elbows making painful contact with the floor. The loss of Ivy’s warmth against her side makes her shiver, but the guilt woven into every fiber of her being keeps her from returning to the other’s embrace.

Hands still outstretched as if she had tried to keep Zira from falling, Ivy schools her face from shock and sadness to kind and contemplative. “Bad day?” she asks.

“Bad day,” Zira answers quietly.

They developed the system a bit ago, and it works better than Zira could have ever imagined. In the early days, Ivy would ask “Good day or bad day?” before even coming close to making contact, because some days, the very thought of being touched made Zira want to both stab someone and disappear.

Ivy nods and readjusts on the couch, crossing her legs and scooting over to only take up one half of the couch. “Good day,” she answers for herself.

Take what you want, she means. Whenever you’re comfortable, I’m here.

Shame making her face warm, Zira rises from the floor and sits back on the couch, crowding herself as far into the corner as possible.

Ivy points to her forehead, at the circlet resting against her skin. “You should take that off. Your skin’s going white.” Her eyes soften, voice too. “It’s hurting you.”

Zira’s heart aches and she reaches up to take the steel thing off, taking a deep breath and willing her ferrokinesis to mellow out. Immediately, a headache she didn’t realize was forming begins to subside.

Reaching out slowly, giving Zira time to pull away if she wanted to, Ivy takes the circlet from Zira’s hands. “For now,” she says softly, “just be Zira for a bit. Forget the circlet and the title. I want to talk through this.”

The circlet transforms into a steel rose in Ivy’s hands.

Zira makes the flower float upwards with an almost missable twitch of her fingers, not looking away from the mesmerizing green of Ivy’s eyes. Just as slowly as the other did, she stretches out a hand, gently tucking Ivy’s red hair behind her ear. Zira grabs the floating rose out of the air and tucks it behind her lover’s ear as well.

“Thank you,” Ivy whispers, her breath ticking the skin of Zira’s palm as she leans into the lingering touch. “It’s beautiful.”

Zira smiles softly, ghosting the pad of her finger across Ivy’s cheekbone. “It’s not the only one,” she says, heart sparking at the sight of the blush beginning to color Ivy’s cheeks.

You can’t have this with her.

The princess’s face falls and her hand drops like a stone into her lap.

Kindly, Ivy leans away, resting against the back of the couch once more. “I’m here,” she says simply. “I’m here if and when you need to talk, always.”

Zira feels the cracks forming, prepares to shatter and braces for the feeling of accidentally cutting herself on the shards of her being. She steels herself, draws upon familiar impassivity to keep from bursting into tears right there.

“You’re so good,” she chokes out in a low whisper after a bit. “And you’re good to me.”

Ivy tilts her head to the side in confusion, not having heard her, silently gesturing to ask for an explanation.

Don’t tell her, Zira’s thoughts whisper, in a voice that sounds eerily like her mother did. She’ll realize the truth and leave. You’ll be alone.

“I don’t want us to be together,” she says, trying to sound firm. It comes out weakly, her voice wavering and betraying the uncertainty, guilt, and sadness she had been trying to hide. “We’re– we’re not a good match.”

She had kept an admirably even disposition throughout the entire interaction thus far, but Ivy flinches hard, arms instinctively drifting upwards to wrap around herself protectively. But she doesn’t whimper or cry, even though her eyes water. “Explain – now – because you’re not making any sense.”

See? You’re hurting her.

Zira wants to scream and cry and break herself to pieces so she can’t hurt this being of perfection before her.

The princess cuts off her connection to metal, afraid of what could happen with her wild emotions and the metal resting so close to Ivy’s skin.

“Take the flower off,” she orders quietly, as if volume could soften the blow. “Please.”

Ivy frowns, a single tear falling from her eye. She wipes it away quickly, hand returning to rest on her opposite shoulder. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” she challenges, but it sounds weak too. “You’re more than capable of controlling metal.”

“Please,” Zira pleads again, panicking at the feeling of her ferrokinesis humming under her skin again. “I can’t. Take off the flower and set it on the table.”

“Next to the plica you made for someone you spent time making for someone you’re not a good match with?” Ivy shoots back, but she complies, setting it down next to the tray of pastries. “There, done. Now–” her voice cracks with emotion and another tear falls. She wipes it away just as swiftly. “Now,” she tries again, “explain, Zira.”

Look! See? She’s crying. You’re hurting her and keeping her close to you when all it’s doing is damaging her more, the ghost of Kamara’s abuse returns once more to say.

“Please go,” Zira asks, desperation bleeding through the syllables that fall past her lips.

Ivy lets out a bitter laugh and the sound grates on her lover’s ears. “You’re not making any sense right now. You walked in this room with plica you made for both of us, gave me a pretty rose you made out of your royal circlet, and now you want me out of your sight.” Her bottom lip quivers, voice shaking. “Explain,” she begs.

With every second she spends near you, she only gets more hurt.

Zira forces iron-strong resolve into her voice, uses it to mask her breaking heart. Please, love, she pleads in her head, please go before I hurt you more.

“Go, Ivy.”

Zira almost flinches at how cold she sounds, hating how it sounds like her mother did.

Ivy stands up from the couch, expression unreadable. “I want an explanation soon,” she says, defeat weighing down every word. “I love you,” she says softly before turning on her heel and leaving.

The door slams shut behind her.

Zira takes one look at the steel flower and the tray of plica and bursts into tears.

—

They avoid each other for the rest of the day. Zira hides away in her office, tending to her queenly duties. The title is still new and fresh, and she’s still drowning in work. The servants tell her that Ivy spent the day in town with her friends.

Night falls mercilessly and Zira falls asleep at her desk.

She startles awake at the feeling of someone’s hand resting on her shoulder, papers fluttering sadly to the ground when they’re knocked off by her wild movements.

“Easy, easy,” the voice soothes, and Zira recognizes it with a twist of her heart. “It’s late, Zira. You should come to bed.”

Still half asleep, Zira leans into Ivy’s touch. “Missed you,” she mumbles, voice muffled by her arm and slurred by sleep. “Missed you a lot,” she chokes out, groaning as she uses her aching muscles to sit up.

Ivy laughs lightly, and Zira doesn’t realize how forced it sounds. “I’m here now. You need to come to bed, or you’re going to hurt your neck.” She takes Zira’s hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging gently. “It’s a bad day, so I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

“No,” Zira says, and she feels her face burn in embarrassment when she realizes how quickly she responded. “I want— If you want, please stay with me.”

With a sardonic huff, Ivy’s hand falls away. “What I wouldn't have given to have heard that this morning.”

Now look at what you’ve done, child. Just as I predicted, you’ve caused her pain.

Zira’s blood goes cold at the reminder of their conversation that morning. She thinks back to the flinches and the fear, how volatile, dangerous, and guilty she’d felt. “I’m sorry,” she whispers after a moment. “I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

The words tip Ivy over the edge. “Too late, Zira,” she spits back. “You already did that.” She moves away, sitting down in a chair a few paces away from the desk, and Zira finds hope in the fact that she didn’t leave. “I think we’re both too tired to talk it out right now,” she admits.

Zira gets woken up completely by that, reaching out for Ivy instinctively. “No. I’m awake and I need to explain.” She turns in her chair to face Ivy completely. “And I need to apologize.”

Ivy nods. Go on, the gesture says.

“You are a good person– the best I’ve ever known,” Zira begins. “You deserve happiness, a perfect partner, and every other good thing that comes your way.” She takes another deep breath. “I am damaged. I am a bad person who’s done bad things and you shouldn’t settle for that. I don’t want you chained to someone unworthy.”

Zira’s skin crawls and her ferrokinesis begs to be used.

Ivy’s face shutters. “You’re not a bad person,” she says firmly. “And even if you were, that would change nothing.”

“It’d change everything,” Zira argues, frowning. “And if I am not a bad person, I’m a dangerous one. Death and tragedy follow me around like I have them on a leash, and we both know neither take well to being controlled.”

Vulnerability is a demon Zira hates facing. Ivy sees her attempts at loose avoidance and forces her towards the confrontation, somehow both unflinching and comforting.

“What are you so afraid of?” Ivy challenges.

“Myself,” Zira answers simply, watching as clarity and understanding flutter across her lover’s face. “I have damaged everyone and everything that has ever been in my life. I can’t do that to you.”

Ivy sees the twitching of Zira’s fingers and pulls her into a tight hug, one arm around her waist and another cradling the back of her head. “Cry if you want to,” she whispers, pressing a long kiss to her lover’s hair.

Zira breaks. “I can’t ruin you,” she admits into the warmth of Ivy’s neck and shoulder. “You’re so good – so perfect – and I’m afraid of ruining you because I’m too selfish to let you go.” She chokes on a sob, on the weight of keeping everything at bay.

The metal in the room cheers, screaming and begging for attention.

Immediately, Zira tears herself away from Ivy, scrambling backwards across the massive office to cower in the farthest corner. The breaths don’t come easy, getting caught in her throat. Her chest heaves as the tears turn messy.

Ivy gets up slowly. “Zi-”

“Don’t come near me!” Zira begs, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pinning her arms between her arms and torso. “Don’t come near me,” she repeats, quieter this time as she trembles.

It’s going to happen and you’re going to see. You’re going to lash out and you’ll ruin her and what you have together. Just like everything else, it’ll end with blood on your hands.

“Take deep breaths,” Ivy soothes as she sits down on the floor too. She starts taking off all of her jewelry, setting it down in front of her.

And Zira wants to cry, because Ivy understands, and feeling so seen is terrifying.

“Listen to my voice and take slow breaths. It’s going to be okay.” Ivy meets Zira’s eyes unflinchingly, somehow isn’t terrified by what she finds burning in her brown eyes. “You’re not going to hurt me because you’re not that person and you’re strong enough to hold back.”

Deep breaths, Zira tells herself. Focus on one bit of metal and make it your anchor.

She lets her ferrokinesis rip into Ivy’s necklace, uses the overflowing energy to take it apart and reassemble it in the air. The channeling works, slowly, and Zira starts to relax as her heart rate calms.

The metal chain links separate, a thousand little pieces suspended in the air.

Zira takes a deep breath, blinks, and it goes back together. She exhales, and commands the necklace to float back down onto the floor.

Ivy breaks the silence tentatively. “Zira? Good time or bad time?”

The princess looks up, drying her tears. “It’s fine,” she assures, voice scratchy with the remnants of her crying. “I’m okay now.”

As she crosses the room to sit right next to her lover in the corner, Ivy smiles. “See? I was right, love. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”

“This time,” Zira retorts, tamping down the anxiety that prickles her skin at Ivy’s proximity.

Ivy rolls her eyes. She takes Zira’s hand, grip loose enough to slip out of if she wanted. “Do you trust me?”

Zira answers immediately. “Yes. Of course.”

“Then trust my decisions,” Ivy says simply, holding Zira’s gaze unflinchingly. “Trust that I am happy with you and trust in my faith that you won’t hurt me.”

It takes a second, but Zira concedes. “Okay.”

Ivy allows herself to celebrate the small victory with a little smile, but she doesn’t stop pushing. “Trust that you’re not going to “ruin me”– whatever that means. No one can deny that you made mistakes, but you’re a good person and you deserve happiness.”

Zira opens and closes her mouth, not sure what to say.

Stifling a little laugh, Ivy leans forward, kissing her tenderly. “Don’t feel guilty, love. You’re allowed to want this and you’re allowed to have this. You’re not going to mess anything up.

The influx of emotion makes Zira’s eyes water again.

“I don’t know how–” she chokes on her own feelings. “I never want to lose you.”

“You don’t have to.”

It never works like that. We both know that and it’s stupid to pretend otherwise.

Zira hesitates, trying to make sense of the heat in her veins and the pounding of her heart. “I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she admits quietly, and smiles at the way it makes Ivy’s face light up. “I think, someday, I could be good enough to deserve that.”

Ivy smiles, and Zira knows she’d give up everything to see that for the rest of her life.

“It’s late,” Ivy says softly, brushing her fingers through Zira’s soft hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

— --

Zira falls asleep feeling loved. Her eyelids flutter as they fight the weight of exhaustion and she struggles to stay awake, the repetitive motions of tracing little patterns on the bare skin of Ivy’s shoulder lulling her to sleep.

She brings her hand up to make constellations out of Ivy’s freckles, distracted for a second by the gentle curves in the waves of Ivy’s red hair. Zira brushes it away from her face with a feather-light touch, scared of waking her up.

The princess smiles, overcome by the comfortable warmth in her heart.

Moonlight streams through the gaps in the window curtains, swathing both of them in gentle silver. For the first time in a while, silver doesn’t feel threatening or cold.

Ivy looks peaceful, happy, at home in their bed. She looks perfect, beautiful, good. Even in sleep, the gentle embrace she holds Zira in is comforting. When she was still awake, she’d tighten her hold every few minutes, just to hear the other girl giggle softly with tired amusement.

Right before she’d succumbed to her exhaustion, Zira brought them even closer to each other, intertwining their legs and lying close enough that their noses brush, comfortable with the proximity and touch.

At every point of contact, Zira feels her skin buzz pleasantly.

She takes a slow, tired blink, and smiles again. This is perfect, appreciate it, her mind whispers. You deserve it.

The stars sparkle overhead as she leans forward to kiss Ivy gently.

“I love you, Ivy,” she whispers against the soft skin of her lips. “I love knowing that for the rest of my life, I’ll have you by my side.”

Zira falls asleep feeling loved.

#ladywrenoftella #lady wren:: writing #writing #creative writing #my writing #writing wip #wren is writing #zivy

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