#does this count as a tiny bit of fluf?

[littlemisspascal]

Rockford & Roan Pt. 8

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader/OFC ‘Roan’

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Rating: T. Heed the warnings y'all!

Warnings: Language, Reader has a dog, Reader has military background, Superpower AU, They Were Roommates AU, self-esteem issues, soulmates-ish, original characters, worldbuilding, crime-solving, Princess Bride reference

- Reader has no first name and no physical traits described in detail except for being shorter than Rockford. Reader is mentioned to have hair

Author Note: Thank you always for the kind support💗

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me 💜💜💜

Series Masterlist

The Breakfast

Rockford slips into the kitchen the next morning while you’re preparing Banjo’s food. The little mutt barely turns his head to acknowledge the man, his hunger outweighing his love of ear scritches. Your roommate’s freshly showered, curls fluffed up and slightly damp, wearing a casual waistcoat over his white button up and a pair of dark pants. He looks like a college professor, you think, setting the pet bowl on the floor for Banjo to dig into with relish. All Rockford needs are some elbow patches and he’d fit right in amongst the Ivy League elites.

He’d left last night shortly after you’d retired to bed. Like usual he didn’t stop to tell you his midnight plans, and also like usual his absence dwindled in your thoughts right up until sleep washed over you. Where does he go? What does he do? If only you could take a magnifying glass to the entire city, look for a trail or clues to follow. Knowing Rockford though, he’s too smart to leave traces behind. No, he can be a mere shadow of a human just like his brother.

“There’s a nice breakfast spot about a five minute walk from here.”

With your head half inside the fridge staring at a near-expired carton of milk, it takes a beat for you to realize the comment was directed at you. You shut the fridge door, turning to find Rockford staring at you expectantly. 

“Isn’t Inspector Dorrance coming over to pick up the suitcase?” you ask, although you have to admit, the idea of a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup sounds extremely appetizing to your empty stomach.

“Keziah may have been able to successfully substitute cigarettes with candy, but nothing on earth will ever replace his love of coffee.” Rockford sounds more amused than annoyed at the fact.“It’ll be several cups before his soonest convenience delivers him to our doorstep.”

“Well, in that case,” a grin grows on your face, “breakfast sounds wonderful.”

Stacked and Served is a bustling hive of activity when you and Rockford arrive, full of tasty smells and Fox Leap citizens eagerly tucking into their food. If dogs had been allowed, Banjo would’ve levitated off the floor due to the speed of his wagging tail. You’ll have to make it up to him when you return home with lots of belly rubs.

The interior is earthy colors, complementing shades of blues and browns, with a wooden bar lined with stools of happy customers chatting and dining. Throughout the restaurant are oversized, yet cozy-looking chairs arranged around tables, all occupied except for one marked with a reserved sign. It’s positioned next to the front window looking out at the busy city street, all walks of life beginning their days, some strolling along the sidewalks while others shout for cabs. 

Before matching with Rockford, you tended to avoid crowded places like this. All these people, all their shades of emotions, would have brought down an avalanche upon your empathy, overwhelming and suffocating. With the stability of the bond to rely on, their feelings are still detectable along the edges of your mind-gift, but no longer sharp and grating. Muffled like you’ve put on headphones. Ignorable white noise unless you choose to tune in.

Rockford makes a deadline for the reserved table immediately, gesturing for you to take the window seat before he claims the lone dark blue chair for himself. You slowly sit down, eyes flicking between your match and the sign, wondering if he’s going to acknowledge it, when a man in a flour-stained apron and marked with at least a dozen tattoos in thick black lines along his forearms steps up beside the table with a warm, delighted grin.

“Rocky,” he greets, voice deep as a canyon and booming over the encompassing chatter. The two men shake hands, clearly familiar with one another, and then you’re being given a menu that had been tucked under the man’s arm. “And you must be Roanie, yeah? Keziah said you were pretty, but seriously you’re way too gorgeous for this asshole. Do me a favor and let me know if you ever catch Kez with a smoke, alright? He’s a sneaky bastard when he wants to be and usually I’d find that hot as hell, but nothing’s attractive about cancer sticks. I’ll staple ‘em to his balls if he ever touches those damn things again.”

You blink. Once. Twice. “Um.”

The man stares back at you for a moment, blue eyes taking in your awkwardness. Then he slowly turns to Rockford, lips pursing into an unimpressed line. “You didn’t tell her who I am, did you.”

There’s no inflection in his voice. Definitely no question mark at the end.

“Even if I had, it wouldn’t change the fact you have a habit of running your mouth and making terrible first impressions,” Rockford replies, but his gaze is focused outside the cafe, sweeping the streets in search of something.

He earns a well-aimed slap to the back of his head as a result. You wince in sympathy, feeling the sharp pop of pain in sync with your match who rubs at the spot tenderly.

“Lest you forget, Rocky, I’m the one who makes your food here. Don’t tempt me to spit–” 

“So,” you pipe up, fumbling for a quick way to diffuse some of the brewing tension before it gives you a headache. “How long have you worked here…um.” It belatedly occurs to you that you’ve still yet to learn his name.

The tattooed-man takes mercy on you and offers a beaming smile just as warm as the one he’d initially approached with. Must’ve mastered it working in the food industry, you reckon. Or maybe warm and sunny is his natural temperament.

“Elio. And I’ve owned the place for…” he idly scratches the underside of his jaw, and there’s another flour stain there on the tendon of his neck, “oh just about three years now almost. It became mine after dear old Rocky here helped me prove to the police my old boss was skimming the cash register. Our paths should’ve split after that except then he went and introduced me to the love of my life.” His smile changes at the corners. Softens. A feeling sugary sweet and wispy flutters above your empathy, and you don’t need to bring it into focus to know it’s love.

“Introduce is a strong word,” Rockford interjects wryly. “As I recall, you saw him across the room and immediately lit up like a glow stick. I was then forced to explain to Kez you weren’t a criminal trying to escape incarceration by blinding the entire force.”

“Still ended up in handcuffs later that night.” Elio winks, but it’s the teasing, faint pulse of glowing skin that surprises you more. Reminds you of fireflies you used to see in fields back in your hometown. 

“On that appetizing note,” Rockford grimaces, but there’s nothing but amusement coloring his mood, “think you could whip us up two stacks of your specialty pancakes? It’s Roan’s first time here.”

“Oh, a first timer! My favorite kind of customer!” Elio presses a hand to his chest, looking absolutely thrilled at the news. He steals the unread menu back from your hand quicker than you can process. “Leave the food to me. And I’ll see if I can find a candle or something for the table–make this date a little more romantic.”

All you can do is sputter at that, choking on your own spit as the man scurries away.

Date? 

This isn’t–

You didn’t think–

No. No way. You fiddle with the silverware, thoughts spinning, unable to bring yourself to look at your match quite yet. A quick check of Rockford’s mood reveals he’s unruffled by the remark, not even the faintest blip resembling the line of exclamation marks running through your head. Does that mean you’re overreacting? Underreacting? 

If this really was a date, you would like to think you’d know that with absolute, 100% certainty. Surely you’re not that oblivious, or so you tell yourself, at least. So, with that in mind, Elio was mistaken with his labeling. This is definitely not a date. 

Still. The idea of it, of this outing being classified as something more than just two roommates getting breakfast, isn’t entirely unappealing to ponder. There’s actually a tiny bit of a thrill unfurling in your stomach.

Or that could just be hunger pangs.

Definitely plausible.and a lot less complicated to analyze.

You give your head a little shake, finally summoning the nerve to glance at Rockford. Except, low and behold, he’s looking out the window. Again. Not out of avoidance of your attention, no, you can tell by the roaming of his eyes taking note of every passing figure he’s keenly searching for something out there he wants to find real bad. 

Your patience runs out five minutes later after another waiter has dropped off a pot of coffee and a glass bottle of water for the table.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, pouring yourself a drink and taking a sip.

“We know now our killer abducts his villains,” Rockford answers without preamble. “He drives them to secluded, private spots where they swallow the cyanide. But there’s been no reports of abductions, no witnesses of suspicious behavior, which suggests the victims go with him willingly. They don’t put up a fight.”

“Maybe he’s got a weapon?” you suggest, resting your chin on your knuckles. “Tells them if they scream he’ll shoot?”

“Perhaps,” is his preoccupied mumble, still looking outside, lost in his head. 

Outside, the street is still full of commotion. A gray-headed businessman carries his briefcase in one hand and the morning paper in the other. Farther down the way, a pair of women point at something in one of the antique shop windows. Everybody’s got places to be, things to do. Oblivious to the dangerous predator skulking about.

Goosebumps rise up along your arms, like ice has found a way under your skin, imagining the killer out there right now. Hidden in plain sight, watching the goings-on. Hunting their next victim.

The pot of coffee goes cold. Untouched.

The Reason

Elio’s whistling when he brings the pancake stacks to the table. They’re golden, fluffy, and fucking huge, almost as round as the whole plate with a fat square of butter on top. He brings a candle with him too, which you studiously ignore, focusing instead on cutting off a small bite with your fork and dipping it in a cup of syrup.

“Ohmygod,” you utter around your mouthful, manners forgotten in the wake of tasting pure deliciousness. Elio looks very pleased with him, puffing out his chest as you all but inhale another bite. “It’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Elio says, eyes crinkling. “Wanna know the secret ingredient? Self-confidence in oneself.”

“More like an extra helping of cinnamon sprinkled in,” Rockford says, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh hush!” Elio swats at his arm without heat, clearly holding back a chuckle. “Enjoy the food guys. On the house.”

You spare a moment to swallow and thank him properly before he leaves. These pancakes really just might be the best thing you’ve ever eaten in your whole life, your mother’s famous triple chocolate cake officially bumped to second place.

Your fork scrapes against the plate as you cut off another bite-sized piece to soak in the syrup. Tastes like rich maple on your tongue, a faint hint of vanilla when you lick your lips. You glance at Rockford, wondering if he’s going to ignore the food the same as he did the coffee, but you watch as the man rolls up one of the pancakes like one would a poster or a rug, delicate and precise. Three bites, that’s all it takes. Three bites to devour the entire fucking thing without even a single drop of syrup. 

“Something on your mind, Roan?” he wonders, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. 

Blinking out of your mildly horrified daze, you start to shake your head no, but stop yourself. Truth is there is something on your mind. And it’s not the efficient way he consumes pancakes or where in the city the killer will strike next. 

“You don’t sleep at home.” It feels a little strange (and a little scary), to voice the concern that’s been a thorn ingrained in your thoughts since the first week you moved to 445D Albatross Lane. Hard to say if it was the change of scenery or good food that gave you the needed boost of confidence to finally bring it up. Perhaps it was both.

Rockford frowns, initial surprise shifting into a narrow-eyed wariness. There’s a change in his posture too, a subtle straightening of his spine you only notice because you’re watching him intently. “You noticed that, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” you admit with a small shrug. “I feel the absence of your emotions when you leave at night. You also don’t ever nap around the apartment either.”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.” It’s an observation, not a question.

“Yes,” you answer slowly, uncomfortably aware of the sudden sensation of walking on thin-ice. “I’ve been worried. Thought maybe…” You bite the inside of your cheek, warring with yourself over how much to reveal, but you’ve already come this far might as well take it to the finish line, “I thought maybe you didn’t trust me enough to fall asleep when I’m nearby.”

God, it sounds so stupid said out loud, doesn’t it?

Sure enough, Rockford is as blunt as ever when he confirms, “That’s total bullshit. We share a home, Roan. Of course I trust you.”

“Then where do you go at night?” You look at him, trying to understand if it’s not about trust then what is it about? “Do you have a secret girlfriend I don’t know about?”

That earns you a sharp bark of laughter, head thrown back and dimples out in full force. “A girlfriend? No. Not really my area.”

Oh.

A short pause follows, reassembling your thoughts.

“Okay,” you say, chewing your bottom lip. “So, do you have a secret boyfriend then?”

Rockford arches an eyebrow, and it’s deliberate, you can tell it is, the way he nudges your empathy. Judgy and bemused all at once.

“It’s totally fine if you do.” You hold up your hands, fork aimed at the ceiling, a defensive gesture that has Rockford’s other eyebrow rising to join the other, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“I know it’s fine.”

“So you do have a boyfriend then?”

“No, Roan.” He shakes his head, a low grumble. “I don’t have anybody. Not looking for anybody either. Relationships like that, they’re a distraction to my work.”

That settles it then, you realize with a faint sinking feeling. Definitely not a date.

“But what about when the work’s over?” you ask softly.

“The work’s never over.”

You frown, something awfully painful pinching in the center of your chest when his emotions don’t waver. He honestly believes that notion, as true a fact as water is wet. “Alright,” you murmur, reluctantly deciding not to push the subject further. “Explain it to me, please. Why don’t you sleep at home?” 

“Because I can’t,” is Rockford’s succinct response doing absolutely nothing to clear up your confusion. “My gift won’t let me.”

Your fork slips from your fingers with a clatter, tongue tripping over words, “Wh-what? How does that even–? People die if they don’t sleep.”

He wags a finger in the air. “That’s actually incredibly rare–”

“Rockford.”

“My brain is in a constant state of perception, absorbing information from my senses and my environment,” your match tries to explain, his eyes settling on the coffee pot with a disgruntled glare like it’s personally offensive. “I can’t fall asleep like a regular person. Getting the rest I need requires locking myself in a sensory deprivation tank. There’s a health center with one not far from our apartment. I've been going there for years.”

“That’s where you go every night?” you ask, eyes widening in surprise.

Rockford toys with his napkin, avoiding your gaze. “No. Not always,” he admits, sheepishness creeping into his voice, clouding his aura. “I really do have chronic insomnia, that wasn’t a lie. Sometimes I go to the police station, point out the flaws in their filing system. Or during exam period, I spend the night at Rosasharn’s when she’s up to her eyeballs grading papers to keep her company. Usually though I set myself up at one of the dozens of twenty-four hour cafes in the city with my laptop or a good book and hang out until sunrise.”

“You…” You blink at him, completely thrown for a loop. “Seriously, you'd rather spend the night at a twenty-four hour cafe than your own home? Good lord, Rockford, why?”

“You deserve to sleep peacefully, Roan. And you can't do that with my emotions keeping you awake,” he answers. His voice is soft, yet the words slice through you all the same, boring straight into your heart.

The reason for his leaving is the same reason Rockford had separated himself from you at the crime scene. Your empathy is deeply attuned to the ebbs and flows of his emotions, the bond growing stronger with each day he allows you full, unhindered access to his mind. Dozing for a half hour on the couch in his presence is one thing, when the afternoon sunlight’s bathing the living room in streaks of gold and your empathy keeps watch. Operating on its own battery. A side effect of spending too much time behind enemy lines.

Nights are different. The battery must recharge, weary from the day’s strain of processing, filtering, blocking on loop, or else risk incurring migraines. But in the darkness, the thin line between dream and reality becomes blurred, sometimes indistinguishably so. In the service, surrounded by fellow soldiers witnessing the same horror and traumas, nightmares were commonplace. Creeping out of their mindscapes into your own, twisted horror scenes absorbed by your psyche as if it were a sponge soaking up water.

Worse were the nights your nightmares unintentionally became theirs. 

You had tried to contain your empathy on nights where there was blood in your hair, under your nails, hell, you could taste it on your teeth. Chain your mind-gift up in a corner same as a mad dog. Dr. Odair hadn’t been pleased when you told her, dropping her perfect mask of poise and professionalism to level you with a look. She told you tactics like that caused unseen damage, a tipped over domino in the chain reaction leading to the necessity of matching to prevent your own self-destruction.

Shutting off your empathy isn’t a healthy solution, and neither is Rockford blocking you from feeling his emotions. Yesterday’s misunderstanding proved how much you both rely on the bond’s stability. To cut it off night after night…it feels dangerous even contemplating it, heart lodged in your throat.

Doesn’t come close to the guilt pressing down on your rib cage though, threatening to crush you from the inside out. Rockford’s been putting your needs first, uncaring that doing so means being driven out of his own home. And he’s been doing it every night all because of your specific mind-gift.

“It’s ok,” Rockford says, a steadiness to his voice you’re envious of, and he reaches out his hand across the table towards your own. You don’t know if it’s his perception that tells him you’ll shatter under his gentle touch or if you’re subconsciously broadcasting your tumult, but either way something makes him stop before he makes contact. “I don’t mind. Honestly.”

There’s something magnetic about the mere centimeters of space separating your fingertips from his, unable to tear away your stare. “You should,” your voice miraculously doesn’t tremble like a leaf, “it isn’t fair.”

All Rockford has to reply to that is, “Life isn’t fair, Roan. It’s just fairer than death, that’s all.”

For a second time you feel his unwavering belief in his own words. And you could leave it be, let the moment pass. Nothing changes if nothing changes, your mother used to always say. 

Rockford starts to pull back his hand, only for you to latch onto his wrist. Your grip isn’t tight, you both know he can easily slip free if he wants to.  

You both know he doesn’t.

“I’ll find a way.”

He blinks, the slightest tilt of his head.

“I’ll find a way so you can stay,” you vow. "Everything will work out one way or another."

And Rockford smiles, lopsided and dimpled, warmth pressing against your empathy expressing more gratitude than speaking out loud could ever manage. 

“Better finish your breakfast,” he says, returning to the art of pancake rolling, ignoring the disturbed wrinkling of your nose at him. “You’ll break Elio’s heart if you don’t clean your plate.”

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x ofc #tim rockford fanfiction #my fic #pedrostories

[twinkleallnight]

Home is where my family is.

Book: TRR AU

Characters: Rashad x Kiara, Noah their son.

Word count: 2533

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: assassin attack, violence, hospital, sickness.

A/N: Meet Kiara and Rashad's grown up son Noah and live their story. Thanks a ton to @lizzybeth1986 for brainstorming this one. Not beta'd . Errors are all mine. Hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt: Day 4 of @kiaratheronappreciationweek .

Holding hands, forehead kisses and love confessions for @choicesmonthlychallenge

Prompt 1&3 for @choicesflashfics week 23

It was a silent and gloomy morning. The weather was dull, the clouds refrained the warmth of sun rays from reaching the lap of the earth.

The young man turned his back to the window but the room was equally depressing. He ran his fingers through his thick, wavy, black hair. He pulled them back shaking his brains for some solution to the problem at hand. His mind again reached a dead end and he released his grip in frustration. His silky hair bounced back to softly kiss his temples.

His dark chocolate eyes flickered between the wall clock and the display of numbers on a monitor. He thanked God for blessing him with the knowledge of medicine. It was helping him keep a check on the vital signs. 'Few more minutes.' he counted. His eyes developed a mist when he took in the sight of the listless figure lying on the bed. The room was quiet and It may feel unoccupied lest for the constant beep of the monitor. A monitor giving a sign of the body that was alive, breathing, surviving.

He heard a soft murmur. He leapt forward to the bed. Her whimpers grew louder but they were still incoherent. He rested his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. She opened her eyes in response. Her vision was blurred after the heavy medication. She lifted her hand to touch him. Her fingers trembled. He supported her hand. She reached his wavy hair and combed her hand through them. "Rashad?"

He felt a bit disappointed. She was in delirium. "It's me, Maman. Noah. Pappy will be here anytime now."

"Hmmm." she let out a weak moan and closed her eyes. In a couple of seconds, she was again fast asleep.

Noah let out a sigh. He settled back in his chair, next to her. His thoughts took him down the memory lane when he was a little boy.

"Maman, I am your son, I am not Pappy's son, right?" He asked her innocently, sitting in her lap.

"And why does my bébé think so?" She questioned him.

"Pappy is brown. But I am darker like you."

Kiara threw her head back in laughter. "Yes Noah, you have the same colour like Maman and Pappy is brown because he has less melanin than us."

"Mill an? What is that?"

"Mon petit doctor! Melanin are tiny colour dots in our body."

"Maman, when I grow up to become a doctor I will help Pappy get more dots."

"He doesn't need more, Noah. We are all made different and we are beautiful in our own ways."

"Then how will I have something the same as Pappy?"

"You already have. You have your Pappy's beautiful hair." She raked her fingers through his fluffed side locks and pulled them back. His hair bounced back just like Rashad's did. Kiara bent down to kiss Noah's hair over his temple.

"And most important of all you have got your Pappy's big heart."

"But my heart is tiny."

"It is. But you have the power to love us all with your tiny little heart. Maman loves you for that."

Noah came back from his reverie and wiped the corner of his eyes. He chuckled then picked up his phone to message his father.

'She woke up for a few minutes.

I was next to her

but she thought it was you.'

He hit the send button and softly placed the cell phone on the table, without a sound. He then reclined on the chair to relax for sometime. 'Pappy will be here soon. Hold on, Maman.' he tried telling her, before closing his eyes.

**********

Rashad was lost in memories of Kiara while his driver maneuvered the SUV around the bends of the road through the mountains. A smile played on his lips as he remembered their petty fights at work, when she was just an acquaintance. And he was possibly the most annoying professional colleague to her. Their first meeting for the council work was still fresh in his mind. As if it was yesterday….

Her chamber was located on the second floor right next to the staircase. A brass nameplate hung over the wooden door. As her daily ritual she stood in front of her office and read out proudly, “Kiara Theron, Minister of External Affairs.”

“If you are done gloating, we can start doing some actual work.” His husky male voice startled her. She turned to face Rashad who held a bunch of files in his hands. He forced his way through the doors of her office, ignoring her.

Kiara stomped behind him. He dumped the documents on her table with a thud and turned around. She was right in his face, furious, as she yelled at him, “Who do you think you are? Speaking rudely to me and then barging right into my office without my permission.”

He placed his finger on her tiny nose and gently pushed her back. “I prefer to talk across the table. Safe distance, you see.”

Kiara stumbled in her step before stabilizing herself. She moved across the table and pointed towards the door, “And I prefer you knock on the door before you come in and talk to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Fine, I will inform His Majesty that the external affairs Minister was too busy drowning in her own glory to talk.” He picked up the files and started walking towards the door.

“Hey, wait!” He didn’t listen. “I said, STOP.”

He froze but didn’t turn back. Kiara scooted towards him. She stood between the door and Rashad. “Liam sent you?”

“Not exactly. I thought I would come to your office and make it easy for you, since it’s your first time working with my department.”

Kiara crossed her arms, “And this is how you welcome a new colleague?"

"I am sorry." He started checking his pockets. "Now where did I keep that red carpet?"

"Arghhhhh! I am done with you!"

"The pleasure is all mine." He smirked.

*********

Just then his phone beeped. He shook his head, smiling still thinking of his wife as he opened the inbox. His brows furrowed on reading their son Noah's message. He instructed his driver to speed up and replied to Noah,

'Will be there in an hour.'

He looked out of the window again. Worry still reflecting on his face. He could feel his heartbeat racing, current events taking him back to the incident that had troubled him years ago, returning to haunt him……..

****************

The melody playing in the background, the grandeur of the ambience, the silks and satins, the rich aroma of food and the splurging drinks. The festival of five kingdoms was in its full glory. Kiara and Rashad had collectively helped acquire great deals for the council and the members were all praises for them.

What Rashad started as a waggery at work soon turned into respect and admiration for Kiara. She was wise, intelligent, focused, determined and hard working. She was definitely the beauty with brains. Rashad would never admit it but he was not just in awe of her smartness he was smitten with her smile, her brown eyes. He was falling for her.

He was holding the drinks in his hands, Sazerac for himself and a Catena wine for her. He was making way through the crowd towards her when he heard the loud boom. The next moment he was on the floor, covering his ears, the crystal shattered into million pieces around him. There were screams between the gunfire. He could see someone scrambling to his left and hear a few footsteps running from his right.

'Kiara? Where is Kiara?' He got up and rushed to the direction where he had left her. His palpitations increased further when the scene unfolded in front of him. She was struggling, putting up a fight with someone who looked like a…. Like a killer. 'Assassin!' he thought and ran towards her. He could see the shine of the metal between them. 'dagger.' his mind registered. But before he could reach her, the damage was done. The ruthless murderer had pushed the blade into her side.

She stumbled back. "Kiara!" Rashad screamed. The assassin saw him and ran away in the opposite direction.

Rashad picked up at her falling frame. "Kiara? Kiara?"

She groaned in pain holding her side around the heel of the knife. Her eyes seemed to be rolling back.

"Ki… Kiara. Look at me. Keep your eyes open. I promise I won't let anything happen to you." He looked around, "Help! We need help here!

He lowered her to the floor. He pulled out his kerchief and untied his cravat and tucked the pieces of cloth around her wound, careful not to move the handle of the knife. He covered her with his coat. He cupped her face with one hand and felt she was going cold. He again yelled,"Help! Please!"

This time someone heard him maybe and before he could register what was happening, he was in an ambulance beside her, speeding through the Cordonian streets.

The blaring of a horn from a passing vehicle brought him back to the present. He realised he was sweating. He dabbed on his forehead and checked his watch. He looked around. They were in the Capitol already. He texted Noah and hastened to wrap his belongings in the vehicle.

The driver entered the hospital and Rashad dashed to the second floor.

He entered the room and froze. The scene before him was like deja vu. He had seen her in a hospital bed years ago. Her delicate body connected with numerous wires to the gadgets that hummed and beeped. But this time he could not tolerate it. He did not want it to be this way. His beloved wife, His Kiara, tied to the wires that claimed to predict her survival. He swallowed thickly.

Noah saw the uneasiness etched on Rashad's face. He stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. He then ushered him in, and guided him to the chair next to Kiara's bed.

Her body looked lifeless. Her eyes were sunken hollows. Her skin had lost the sheen. Her black hair made a train behind where her head lay. The silver strands in between were the proof of years spent together.

Rashad placed his hand next to hers. His fingers just touched hers. He was scared. Scared of waking her. Scared of hurting her. Scared of losing her. He felt a lump in his throat when he held her hand.

He shifted his gaze from her fingers,back to her face and suddenly felt the spin in the room. His mind whirled him to the hospital room many years ago. Kiara lying in the bed in the same way but much younger. He could feel as if it was just yesterday.

He wasn't as patient as he is now. He thought back about that time....

He was eager and restless, for her to open her eyes. He was shy to touch her but he couldn't wait anymore. So, with much hesitation, he brushed his fingers over hers and then gradually built up the courage to hold her hand.

"Kiara," he said to her sleeping form. "I am sorry, I couldn't reach you in time. I am sorry, you had to go through this pain."

He snuggled her hand between both his palms. His head hung low as he tried to speak, keeping the tears in his eyes at bay.

" I… I don't want to live in denial anymore. I like you a lot Ki…" he swallowed trying to control the overwhelming feeling. "I want to live and enjoy moments with you. I want to spoil you with gifts. I want to share with you. Please don't give up so soon. Please give me a chance. God! Please let me, once…"

He broke. His forehead rested on her hand that he held. Tears crossed the dams of his eyes to flow down freely. A hitched sob struck in his throat. He was so deep in his sorrow that he missed her fingers curling over his.

A feeble voice said, "Don't you have a better deal to offer, Mr Lawyer?" Rashad looked up with a jerk. Kiara's eyes were open only to a narrow slit. Rashad wiped his tears with one hand, holding her hand with the other. He smiled at her, "Anything you want. If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you.” He got up and placed a kiss on her forehead. He sat back and lifted her hand to kiss it again and again. He didn't want to hide anymore. He didn't want to miss his second chance.

"I will get the doctor." He got up to leave. Just as on cue, the door opened and in came the Theron's- Hakim,Joelle and Zeke.

"Kiki! Are you alright?" Joelle rushed to her side. They were all so worried and anxious,they didn't realise Rashad was standing there. Joelle held her hand while Hakim patted her forehead. Zeke filled in, "The security detail was so tight. They were not ready to reveal your location, whether you are at a safe house or a hospital. We came as soon as they spilled the information."

Kiara was listening,quietly. She was happy to be able to see them all. She raised her eyes to follow the receding figure of Rashad. He stopped at the door and turned back to meet her gaze. At that moment she knew that though her family was with her but where her home was, where her heart was.

*********

Rashad was praying silently when he felt her fingers move in his hands. His lips curled up. He raised his head to meet her eyes and she smiled back. He cupped her face with one hand "Did you sleep well, mon amour?"

She gave a slight nod.

"How are you feeling now?"

Her lips parted but speaking looked like an effort. Her eyelids closed slowly and opened again. She rolled her tongue out to moisten her lips. Rashad caressed her. He was not in a hurry. He was going to be there for her. He let her take time. Finally she let out a sigh and said, "I am much better, now that you are here."

"And I am not going anywhere."

"You are a busy man."

Rashad protested, "I am staying right here till you get better and we walk you home."

"Noah?" She asked for her son. He swiftly moved across the room to be at her side.

"I am here, Maman."

She called him closer and planted a kiss on his head. He kissed her back on the cheek and gave her a side hug. She had his arm around her. She looked at Rashad and tugged at his hand.

Rashad moved closer to her, giving her a side hug from the other side.

"We have come a long way, you and I" she gave him a weak smile.

"We will be home soon." He whispered in her ear.

She glanced at both her sides, her son and her husband besides her, each holding one of her hands. "Home is where my family is." She said and closed her eyes in the warmth of her husband's embrace.

Tags: @3pawandme @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @bascmve01 @bebepac @busywoman @dcbbw @gkittylove99 @harleybeaumont @iaminlovewithtrr @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @lizzybeth1986 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @neotericthemis @mom2000aggie @phoenixrising0308 @princess-geek @riseandshinelittleblossom @sazanes @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @sillydg @tessa-liam @tinkie1973 @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @yourmajesty09 @choicesficwriterscreations

#kiaratheronappreciationweek #ktaw #ktaw day 4 #choices fic writers creations #choicesflashfics #choices monthly challenge #pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #trr fandom #trr #twinkleallnight #choices fanfic #kiara theron

[toshis-puppycat]

Unfortunately, I Think I Love You Too Part Four

A/n: So, uh angst happened last chapter lol I'm sorry about that. But y'all liked it so its okay. Some fluffyness will be coming soon! Also big thanks to @onyxiana-is-obsessed for letting me use a name in this!! You're the best for that truly. And I'm very sorry it took me a while to update things happened and I got stressed, but it should be all good now! Thank yall for being patient with me!

Summary: Hawks doesn't know what to do, you're semi avoiding him now and that's very difficult because you're literally trapped in the same house and you know for a fact you have no food available. Shopping with Hawks is okay at least. Too bad that gets interrupted. 

Part Four

You tried not to think about what he said. "If...if you ever need it. I'm here for you." 

It was awkward, uncomfortable. You didn't like it. Unfortunately, you noticed you had like, absolutely no real food to consume. You had to make a trip to the store. And you had to do it with Hawks.

"Hey, birdbrain. We need to go to the store." You said, walking into your living room. Ignore it. He shot you a look.

"Is that really safe to do right now?" He asked.

"You want food?" You ask, he nods in response. "Then get ready." He gives an apprehensive look, it's an odd on him. He's usually so confident and sure about his movements. You quickly got ready, and left the house together straight to the store. First, your assorted fruits, then your vegetables and now the protein and other assorted foods. First choice from Hawks was chicken, of any type (mainly asking you to make fried chicken the goddamn weird bird), apparently the discussion between you two earlier is finally being pushed aside for the time being. You hoped it'd never be brought up again. You didn't want to acknowledge it, you didn't want to remember the terror you'd feel every time you fell asleep. You shook the thoughts off, checking the assorted meats. You could make some tacos or something tonight, maybe some stew. You felt a hand at your lower back in that moment. Ah, Hawks finally came back-

"I do hope you don't think that having him nearby will keep you safe." They said, and you felt yourself stiffen, eyes widening in shock as you subtly tried looking around. Hawks wasn't near you at all and you knew this person. "It was quite easy to lead him away. Money gets people to do things, my dear." They continued.

"Toxin." You said, you tried your best not to move around. You remembered his quirk all too well.

"Awe the little one does remember." Toxin teased, you could practically feel his smile. "I'm sure you understand why we're doing this sweetheart." He purred. "Betraying us the way you did back then left a lot of scars for us. Me especially, you were my future y/n." 

"That was not a life for any child to experience. Being offered to you should have never been an option." You hissed.

He tisked at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. "Ah y/n. I wouldn't be so snappy if I were you. After all you are alone right now." He smirked, then kissed your temple. "It was nice to see you y/n, but I should be going now. That bird is coming back." He said, you didn't let yourself relax with him saying that though. He grabbed a strand of your hair, and lightly tugged it and sighed. "I'll be seeing you again soon though, sweetheart." And with that he left you, you couldn't move, your body felt numb and you couldn't breath. Then there were hands at your shoulders. Oh God were they back already? You couldn't do this you had to run-

"Kid!" Hawks exclaimed. "Take deep breaths, alright?" He pulled you into his arms at that. You snapped out of it at that point, gently shoving him away. You freaking out would have caught some attention, you couldn't just push him away.

"I'm fine. Let's just pay and get out of here." You said, you tried keeping your voice steady but he could hear the quiver, and basically feel your erratic heartbeat. You were right, you both had to leave. Him before a fan would try to ask him to sign something and you before you started to panic again. You quickly paid for your items and left. Your heartbeat didn't slow until the both of you were safely in your home. 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

He usually knew what to do in situations where civilians were scared. But there was a catch for this time. You weren't a civilian, you were… you were a hero. A hero whos childhood was somewhat shrouded in mystery for him. The commission didn't give him anything more pertaining to your case. The only information that they had was that you were saved, and then you didn't join any hero work at all. But that was a lie. He knew it at this point that you were are a hero. Something he didn't tell the hero commission because he knew it'd hurt you. It took months of bugging attempting to get to know you and be somewhat close enough to talk outside of your hero duties. Which didn't happen the way he wanted. You were intriguing, ever since he first met you at that charity event. You also weren't really known, any information was shrouded in mystery, nothing was confirmed about you. Well one part for him was confirmed now, you were gorgeous. He always had that theory after he met you and you were soft. He remembered when you had hugged him close when you were undercover with him, you felt right in his arms. He wanted to help you. But he had to understand you. So when you forced yourself to cook dinner, he didn't argue because you would shield yourself away. Even though he was feeling a tiny bit desperate to know, he kept it to himself. And when you finally turned in for the night he made a decision that would go past this assignment. He would protect you, no matter what. Starting with not calling you "sweetheart". It was a cute pet name to you but well, hearing that villain, Toxin, call you that just… it made your annoyed reactions make more sense. Especially when he had first done it. You were more neutral when you two first spoke, but the moment he uttered that pet name you ended up annoyed with him. That ended up becoming the relationship you two had now, you annoyed with him and him slightly desperate for your attention. But now, right now you were someone he had to protect more, a victim of a criminal organization. He looked over at your bedroom door, your home was soundproof, no one would be able to hear you inside, and considering what he heard earlier it made sense. He walked over to the door, not opening it just waiting, hearing you toss and turn attempting to get comfortable. He leaned against the wall nearby, he really wished you'd trust him. 

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Having Hawks stay at your home leaves mixed feelings for you. It made you relieved but at the same time on edge. Glad someone who knew about your hero life but also left you paralyzed with fear. Heros saved people, heros were strong. This… this was you being weak. You were acting like the scared child All Might saved. You were still terrified of them. Your childhood was a horror show. The amount of times you saw people killed just for existing, being there at the "wrong time" (which was all the time the damned liars), the fact that they would force you to watch them kill innocent people and laugh about you cowering away. It was no wonder you were grateful for All Might saving you, it was why you wanted to be a hero. Saving the people who weren't always seen. You pointed out Chisaki Kai to Nighteye, he looked more into it and decided it was a case he'd investigate with a few other agencies. That little girl with them, she needed to be saved. It was why you told him about what you'd noticed in the first place. You didn't want to be known however. Too many people were wary about those related to villains, all you wanted to save people. And you were. But now… now it was coming back. Now you had to rely on heros to protect you. You hated it. You didn't want to rely on anyone, you just wanted that chapter of your life closed. You felt a terrible headache coming on then heard something shuffle outside of your door. Did this… did this dumbass not see the spare bedroom? You sighed, and got up. Quickly moving to open your door as you saw something move in the corner of your eye outside of your bedroom window. You tensed, you forgot that they were watching you. God it was probably why Toxin fucking talked to you! You probably threw them in for a loop having Hawks at your home thankfully. You opened the door, finding Hawks leaning against the wall nearby, and quickly threw yourself into his arms and tucked your head under his chin, he froze at the sudden contact. "M'sorry I panicked like that earlier and pushed you away." You said, it was muffled. He was still kinda frozen but you felt his arms slowly wrap around your middle. 

"Ah, its okay kid. Are you feeling a little better?" He asked, this was so different from the Hawks you were used to, unsure of what to do almost shy like, you shook your head in response to his question before you forgot to.

"Not really, but I didn't wanna shut you out." You whispered, forcing yourself to relax in his arms. Liar. A voice whispered in your head. You're a liar and a coward. Its good they came back to get rid of you. You deserve it. 

"Hey come on kid, I'm not heartless. Why would I leave my little songbird alone when she needs me?" He said, and wow did those pet names stick out as a "long term" thing they thought you had. You felt yourself flush. He was almost being… cute. He kissed your temple and led you back to your living room. Sitting on the couch before pulling you into his lap, one hand moving to steady your waist as you attempted to get comfortable, both legs thrown over his. "I'm not going anywhere songbird." Thank god he seemed to have gotten the hint, you thought as you saw a single feather subtly fly behind him and under the front door. You two sat there for what seemed like forever, he was holding you, he moved the hand at your waist and threw it around both of your shoulders and the other cupping your cheek as you laid in his arms. It was… nice. It felt right, like nothing was wrong. All the negative thoughts that were swirling in your head a moment ago vanished the moment he properly held you, your body felt at ease for the first time in years, you were exhausted. You didn't notice the tension in his shoulders leaving as you found yourself relaxing in his arms, didn't hear the fast beating of his heart as your eyes started drooping, and finally you slumped against him. Damn, you didn't know you were that touch starved. You slightly turned your face into his neck and relaxed even more, one hand coming up to his shoulder and loosely gripping at the material of his coat, before settling again. It was like you completely forgot why you came out in the first place, which you did for sure. You never knew Hawks could be so comfortable to lay on.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Hawks was relishing in the fact you relaxed against him so easily, but there was that twinge of worry. How long have you not been sleeping well if you went lax from the bare minimum of touches (affection?) from another person? You were a private person, he knew that. It was obvious from the way you kicked him out earlier that day, to when you immediately left for your room after you two ate. But here you were, basically cuddling with him. He'd take you back to you room, but when he got up you just clutched at his coat tighter and tensed. You didn't settle until he was just holding you again. Well fuck.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—*

Tag list: @traqicalromance, @onyxiana-is-obsessed, @neon-tries-writing, @shiggi-trash, @jqnposts, @notmykirk, @crackhead1-800, @sinclairsamess, @takmikig, @ewok-things, @lookslikeleese, @rat-suki, @bakatenshii, @enjifuckersupreme,  @protagonist-senpai, @atsumumu, @mikithekiki, @marshmallow-witch

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

#bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #hawks x reader #does this count as a tiny bit of fluf? #might be angst you decide

[thebrideofmunson]

Pink Promise

Pairing: Dean Winchester X younger sibling reader(not in an incest way)

Summary: Dean is there to help his younger sibling after they have a nightmare 

Words: 2211

Warnings: fairly angsty, but still very very fluffy, a detailed nightmare, mentions of John Winchester’s parenting style, bad writing?, like one cuss word, a tiny tiny bit of gore

Note about characters: in the present scenes the reader is 16 and in the flashbacks they’re 6 and the reader and Dean have like a 13/14 year age gap so he’s like 19/20 in the flashbacks, there isn’t any gendered terms for the reader so it’s neutral(unless you count hair being braided as a gendered term, but boys can have braided hair cause gender isn’t real), and finally this takes place in season 5

Dean woke up, not for any purpose, just one of those weird moments where you randomly wake up in the middle of the night. He shook his head and began fluffing his pillow, stopping when he heard soft crying.

“(Y/N)?” He softly called out.

You were laying with your back facing out and your face squished into the musty cushions of the small motel room couch, a failed attempt at muffling your cries.

“Y-Yeah Dean? Something wrong?” You tried to play it off.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing. Were you crying?”

When you guys first got your room Dean cursed the streetlight right outside the window, but now he watched how it illuminated you as you dropped your head down.

“Nightmare?”

You looked up and made eye contact before slowly nodding a yes.

“Think you’re gonna be able to go back to sleep?”

You dropped your gaze again as your face screwed up and you could feel new tears form on your lash line.

“No.” You softly croaked out, barely audible over Sam’s snores.

                                                   ~Flashback~

You couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying quiet to risk opening your mouth. Once the sting in your eyes and the back of your throat calmed down you went back to sleep.

“Sammy?”

You screamed out running through an old grey house.

“No no no please no!” You heard him scream somewhere you couldn’t find.

“Sammy!” You huffed before taking off running down the hall you came from.

As you ran around the house you felt small and helpless, like when you got separated from your brothers in the corn maze at the pumpkin patch in Iowa, the one Dean took you to without your dad knowing.

“Dean?” You desperately called for your brother as your feet pounded against the floor. 

Completely unaware of your surroundings you ran, the only thing on your mind was finding your brother. Not paying attention to your surroundings you tripped, your heart raced knowing how your dad always got on you for that. You got up and looked down to see what sent you flying to the cracked floorboards.

“Dean!” You screamed

You woke up again, heart pounding in your head and toes. You stopped gasping for air when you felt your dad roll over next to you, holding it in again to stay quiet. Collecting your moose and your blanket, the one you got in Oregon when you were 3 and have refused to sleep without ever since, you slipped off of the bed as silently as possible. Your dad and Dean were fumigating a house in a fancy neighborhood so the only hotel available was a little nicer than your usual moldy motels. The vinyl floorboards stayed quiet as you snuck over to the door that joined your brothers’ room to you and your dad’s. You glanced at your brothers sleeping in their beds before moving their jackets off of the chair that sat in the corner. Dropping your blanket on the floor you traded it for the two flannels that were under their jackets and curled up into the chair. Once you were comfortable you finally let the tears flow, crying softly at first and burying your face into Mort the moose as your chest heaved more and more with the weight of your cries. 

 “(Y/N)?” You heard Dean call out in confusion as he shut the drawer of his nightstand. 

 “S-sorry for waking you up.” You tossed off the flannels and picked up your blanket, heading back to your proper room.

 “No, no, hey, hey, come here.” Dean moved over in his bed and opened his arms, lightly flicking his wrist to call you over to him. 

You gingerly padded over to his bed and with a little effort jumped up.

 “I’m gonna guess it wasn’t growing pains that woke you up.” Dean chuckled. 

 “Ok, I’m sorry, bad timing. Now come on peanut, stop giving me that face and come in closer.” He said shifting so he could comfortably open up his arms for you. 

You still continued to pout, but scooted into his embrace until your body felt lighter. 

“Sorry.” You quietly mumbled, it came out kind of funny because of how your cheek was squished against your brother’s chest. 

Dean pulled back and nudged your chin up, signaling you to make eye contact  with him before resting his hand on your shoulder. His comforting softness melted away as he turned dead serious. 

“Listen to me, do not ever and I mean ever apologize to someone because you’re upset. Ok?” He searched your eyes waiting for an answer, which you gave him with a nod. 

“Now tell me why someone broke into my room and stole my favorite flannel.” And just like that Dean pulled you back into him and your softy of a brother was back.

“Dad yells at me when I don’t sleep and when I cry and when I ask him questions, so I came in here to cry” Even your big brother’s arms couldn’t shield you from the sadness that entered your body.

“Well I’m not dad, neither is Mort the moose, and neither is Sammy.” Dean started.

“Sammy snores now, he’s old.” You shot Sam a dirty look even though he was dead asleep.

“Yeah Sammy is old now, he drools too.” Dean joined you in giving his younger brother the stink eye. “Now tell me, what has my peanut so upset?”

“Nightmare.” 

“Nightmare? Do you wanna talk about it?” Dean began playing with your hair as he awaited your response.

Staring up at your older brother’s face you thought about it. 

“No.” You wanted to say what happened, to get it out of your mind, but you didn’t want to tell him about how you saw his still body covered in blood with his stomach in shreds. 

“No? That’s okay.” 

You guys sat quietly listening to the traffic outside and Sam’s snores. After a while Dean assumed you had fallen asleep, but just as he shut his own eyes your little voice stirred him.

“D?”

“Mm, yeah (Y/N)?’

“Are monsters real?”

                                                       ~Present~

Dean watched you hang your head again before scooting to the side and opening up his covers.

“Wanna talk about it kid?”

Even in your sad and scared state a genuine smile broke out across your face, it was small, but still genuine. Without responding to your brother you kicked off the soft blanket that you had fought Sam for and walked over to Dean’s bed. Since motel beds are always oddly tall you had to do a little jump to get onto it, shooting a quick glare at Dean for being clearly amused at your struggle. Tentatively Dean opened up his arms to you and you awkwardly shuffled in until your head hit his shoulder and you instantly melted. The both of you sat there without a word, wondering what the other was thinking, unaware that you were both thinking the same thing. You thought about how long it had been since you two laid like this, both of you becoming aware of how long it had really been since you showed each other affection and comfort, and how after all of these years you two felt so natural. Neither of you took into account how the other’s muscles softened, how the past few years of Azazel, the door to Hell, your dad’s death, Sam’s death, Dean’s death, demons, vampires, and vengeful spirits all released from your guys’ bodies. For the first time in months neither of you cared about Lucifer or Michael or any other dick with wings. 

“Hey Dean.” You finally broke the near silence.

“Yeah?” Your ear being pressed to Dean’s chest made his voice sound deeper and you could feel his jaw move against the top of your head. 

“Do you remember when I was super young and we were staying at that nice hotel in Seattle and I had that really bad nightmare?” You slipped the comforter under your brother’s arm so you could fidget with it.

“Yeah I do actually, but how the hell do you remember it? You were like what, six? So that means it was ten whole years ago.” 

“I don’t think I would remember it if it wasn’t the start of the recurring nightmare I always have.” The first part was a lie. That night had been the first time you ever truly felt like you had a family, the first time you had felt comfort in your life. You could never forget that. 

“Oh.” Dean began to play with your hair, taking three small pieces and trying to see if he could still remember how to braid, something he learned because you hated how John would always cut your hair. 

“This dream,” you started, “it’s bad. It’s always the same house, this weird grey one with cracked floors and for some reason the walls are cement. It’s weird. But in the dream I can never find my way, it’s like a labyrinth and every time I get more and more lost the hallways get darker and darker. It always starts with me screaming for Sammy and he doesn’t respond, but I can hear him. I can hear him.”, Your voice begins to break, “I can hear him screaming no over and over again, like he’s getting attacked and then when I call out for him again he’s silent. So I’ll start running to find him, I guess I’ve always had a hunter's instinct. Then when I’m running around I trip and every time I trip I always get this feeling of fear about dad yelling at me for always being clumsy. But then when I. '' You stop, dropping your head and gaze so far down that all you can see is your own chest. Dean drops the chunk of hair he was twisting in his fingers and looks down at you.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, lightly squeezing your arm to ground you, something he always does when you’re upset. 

His encouragement only made things worse as tears began to fall again. Closing your eyes you take a quick deep breath.

“When I look down to see what I tripped over it’s you. You’re dead. Bloody with your stomach all ripped up, I never see the monster, but it must be something with claws. Then it just ends there. Tonight was kind of different though. Our ages are always different in the dream. Sammy’s voice always sounds like it did when he was 16 so I don’t think he changes, but sometimes I’m a kid and you’re a teenager like when I first had it or we’re both teenagers or we’re the ages we are now or sometimes I’m a kid and you’re an adult. But tonight, tonight I was 16 like I am now and you were a little kid.”

                                                      ~Flashback~

Dean didn’t know what to do, he felt like the deer that stopped in the headlights and actually got hit. He’d been through this before with Sam, but he had been older and wasn’t already upset when they had the conversation. He had felt guilty every time he lied to Sam about monsters and didn’t want to give you that same false hope, but he resented his dad for teaching him about monsters when he was this young. 

“I’m not sure of anything, (Y/N).” It technically wasn’t a lie, while Dean was sure that monsters existed he wasn’t sure of what to tell you.

“Well actually no, I am sure of one thing. Nothing and I mean nothing, no man, no woman, no animal, and sure as hell no monsters will ever hurt you because you are strong and I will kick their butt if they even try.” Dean meant that fully, he’s meant that since the day his dad sat him and Sam down to tell them they have a little sibling.

“Pink promise?” You said looking up at Dean.

“Pink promise?” He pulled back and questioned you.

“A pink promise.” You huffed, freeing your arm out from under Dean’s and extending your pinky finger.

“Oohh, a pinky promise.” Dean held up his arm and extended his own pinky.

“No, it’s pink promise.” You pulled your hand back.

“Ok, I pink promise that nothing will ever hurt you.” And to that you guys joined pinkies.

                                                     ~Present~

You begin to quietly sob into your brother’s chest. Dean put his hand at the nape of your neck and put his cheek on the top of your head and let you cry it out, as you calmed down he pulled back and kissed your forehead.

“Hey look, peanut. Sammy and I are not going anywhere, we will always be with you, ok. A lot is going on right now and it will all be okay, we’ve gotten out of so many situations that we shouldn’t have and this one will be no different. I pink promise.” Dean raised up his arm and extended his pinky.

“Oh fuck off.” You lightly hit his hand. 

Unfazed Dean kept his hand up and smugly smiled down at you. You sigh and extend your own pinky. As your fingers wrapped around each other your annoyed façade broke, your smile was joined by a few tears.

“Pink promise.”

A/N: So hey, your local forest wench here. This is definitely different from other stuff I post. I’ve never written a fanfiction before(so basically sorry if it’s not too good and please be patient with me), but I do read a lot of of it and maladaptive daydream a lot so I always have plenty of ideas. I came up with this idea this morning and really liked it, thought that maybe other people would like it and that it would be kind of greedy to keep it to myself. I’m actually really insanely proud of this ngl. If people like this and I feel comfortable, I might even write some more in the future.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x brother reader #dean winchester x sibling #dean winchester x sibling reader #winchester sister #winchester sibling #winchester brother #supernatural #sister!winchester #brother!winchester #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural x sibling #winchester #sibling!reader #sibling! winchester #supernatural imagine #winchester sibling imagine #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan family #bts taehyung #bts v #fluff #angst #smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #taehyung x female reader #bts x reader

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 02  —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00   01

⇢ Word Count : 

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots. 

A missed call from your uncle. 

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb.  She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong. 

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at  Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

 “You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’.  As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a  little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.” 

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “  You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears. 

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.��

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead.  A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door.  You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

#park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin imagine #jimin scenario #jimin reaction #jimin x reader #bts jimin #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin sad #jimin au #jimin smut #fuckboy jimin #fuckboy!jimin #bts scenario #bts smut #bts #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #idol jimin #idol!jimin #idol ! jimin #idol jimin au #ex boyfriend jimin

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

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

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

word count: 26.4k

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

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

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

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

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

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What...What are these?”

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

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

Then it all clicks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just...it’s like…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, I can’t hold—”

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

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

“Do I make myself clear?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

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

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

“Mm-mm. What?” 

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

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

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

“I fuck them until they break.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

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

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

“I...I want you to spank me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yours.” 

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

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

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

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

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

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

“You drool in your sleep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

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

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

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

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

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

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

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

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s definitely something.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How chivalrous.”

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

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

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

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.” 

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

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

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

“Wow. I feel used.” 

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

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

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

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

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re so dumb.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uber for Y/N?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh...my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The irony of it all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like Hamilton?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You are vile.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles series #vampire!harry #harry styles #1d fanfiction #1d fic #one direction fanfiction #one direction smut #one direction fic #1d smut #ysijwa #harry styles one shot #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you #harry styles au #vampire au

[gubler-me-up]

Ace

Request: Can I get a one shot for the episode 52 pickup with Spencer x female reader? Like with the scene specifically where Spencer is trying to hand out the flyers but none of the woman take one, but reader approaches him to take one along with his number or something? Whatever else your mind can come up with please.

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, @just-call-me-non​! Very specific episode request! I had to take an hour out of my day to rewatch this episode to accurately get the storyline across. Hopefully it does your idea justice! (Also, I know this was posted a day late, but I was relaxing all Friday i didn’t forget about your request i swear)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None

Word count: 1.3k

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

Another Saturday night out with your girls should have been a blast. Unfortunately, it was packed with embarrassingly entitled socialites and toxic masculinity. The music also wasn’t helping because the DJ couldn’t pick a good song if his life depended on it. If you wanted to listen to EDM house music, you would have just stayed home and played a YouTube playlist full of them.

Due to your boredom, your eyes started to wander around the club as you and your friends were huddled in a corner trying to make the best of the night. Your eyes had landed on something quite interesting though. Or you should say, someone.

A tall brunet with flyers in his hands was talking to a group of women who couldn’t care less about what he was telling them. They looked as if he was speaking a frightfully terrible language by the way their faces twisted. You, however, were intrigued by the sight you were watching and wanted to get a better view.

“I’ll be back,” you told your friends.

“Where are you going?” One asked.

“I think I’ve found something of interest,” you said.

They all followed your gaze to the lanky, awkward guy you were staring at. The women had walked away from him, so he was left with no choice but to desperately try to convince someone to hear him out. They all looked back at you with questionable stares.

“He looks cute, but he seems like one of those awkward, stiff types. How did he catch your attention again?” Another friend asked.

“Thought I should help him out. I wanna see what he’s handing out,” you explained.

You took the last sip of your cosmo before placing it down on the table. You fluffed up your hair a bit and brushed down any wrinkles in your dress. Your friends watched you in amusement as you prepped yourself to go over to him.

“Get him, tiger,” another said followed by a meow.

You laughed at their sarcasm before walking over to him. He had no idea you were walking towards him as he flailed around a single flyer in his hand trying to convince someone to take it. Since he had about 30 more of where that came from you decided to help him out. You grabbed the one he was flailing around from out of his hands to look at it. He turned around to look at you, surprised someone had actually taken it from him. You looked at him with a smile and held up the picture.

“Who’s this?” You asked him.

“Uh, it’s um, this guy we’re-and when I mean we’re I mean my team and I-uh,” he stuttered.

You giggled at him stumbling over his words as he struggled to comprehend why you were giving him the time of day. You looked at the picture as he finally told you about some sort of murderer on the loose. It was a very vague sketch, so you looked at him with a quizzical expression.

“How do you ever expect to find this guy with a picture like this?” You asked.

He awkwardly chuckled. He held up the stack of flyers in his hands so you could see them clearly. He put his hand in front of the scar which was sketched above the man’s left eyebrow. You raised your eyebrows curiosity.

“Well, the funny thing is some witnesses say he had a scar right here,” he lifted his hand up to reveal the scar.

You stared intently at the scar on the drawing. Then he lowered his hand down to cover it again. What happened next made you widen your eyes with amazement.

“And some say he doesn’t,” he said as he lowered his hand down to reveal an image with no scar.

You stupidly grinned at his trick. Your ear-to-ear grin made him smile as he lowered the flyers. You grabbed his hand with the flyers and placed it back up so you could see it again. There was really no scar there anymore.

“How did you even do that?” You asked.

“Pure magic,” he said.

“Okay, magician, what’s your name?” You asked.

“Spencer Reid. I-uh-work for the FBI, so that’s why I’m-”

“Yeah, I heard your reason why you were here the first time. Along with you saying some sort of statistic about men being more likely to kill targeted victims over women who are more likely to kill related victims.”

He looked at you stunned. It seemed as if he was shocked you were listening to him ramble. You may have been looking at the sketch of the person he was looking for, but you couldn’t help but to invest in what he was saying.

“You were actually listening?” He asked.

You nodded. “I’m a sucker for true crime. That’s not to say I want to be murdered in real life, but it’s cool that you do this for a living. You know, saving lives and catching the bad guy.”

A genuine, non-awkward smile appeared on his face. “Yeah, I do something like that.”

“And what do you do when you’re not kicking ass and taking names?” You asked.

He chuckled. “I think kicking ass is more up my colleague’s ally, but I personally don’t do anything interesting. Well, interesting to most people.”

“Surprise me.”

“I like to master different chess moves in my spare time and read. I like reading pretty much anything and everything. Twice.”

“That sounds interesting to me. Maybe one day you can teach me that trick and how to play a mean game of chess.”

Spencer looked at you astonished at the way you kept engaging with him. You were starting to think girls like you or even girls in general never took an interest in his quirky behaviour. To you it was enticing.

“Um, thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t even get your name,” he said.

You smirked. “How about you give me your number and you can figure it out then. Maybe even discuss each other’s favourite books if you’d like.”

He nodded his head with a tiny smile that slowly appeared on his face. You couldn’t stop looking at him as he did the smallest gestures. He was more attractive than you initially thought from across the club. Every mannerism he did intrigued you more about his character.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Great. What’s your number?” You asked.

He smirked. “It’s near your heart.”

You looked at him funny as he gave you that riddle. You placed your hands in your dress near your left breast. You felt something at the side of your bra. You took it out to see the ace of hearts.

It was nice meeting you, Y/N.

His number followed right after. You were floored. Not only did he figure out your name, but he also gave you his number in the suavest way possible. He didn’t even have to touch your breasts to do it. That was some respectful magic.

“Now you’re telekinetic too?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Can’t say. Maybe if you call I’ll give you a hint.”

“Can you guess when I’m going to call too?”

“That wouldn’t be guessing, but profiling. I have a feeling I’ll be hearing from you in the next two hours.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “Bye, Y/N. It was really nice talking to you.”

With that he walked into the crowd where he was met by a tall, muscular black man. He put his arm around Spencer and gave him an impressed smile. You giggled as you watched the scene before they fully disappeared into the crowd. You looked back at the ace of hearts and couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe you were starting to have a new thing for quirky magicians.

—–

MASTERLIST

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr.spencer reid #Spencerreid #Criminal Minds #criminalminds #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler request #spencer reid request #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubler fluff #mgg fluff #gubler-me-up

[fruitcoops]

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

One 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, meet cute scenarios, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language 

Word count: 3.9k 

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO

homebody noun 

: one whose life centers around the home. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Grocery stores are a cursed place. Horrible. You might have guessed that if there were to be a special layer of hell to be reserved for you (which you sure as hell wished there wasn’t) it would likely be a grocery store. 

Firstly, they are one of the messiest places that you could ever experience. Have you seen the ways that those beige-y grey floors get caked with dirt and smudges from who knows what? Have you seen the dirt and grime that hides under those produce shelves? Secondly, why is it that everyone always feels the need to get so close to eachother crammed in those isles? Why is it that you have to do that awkward shuffle when your cart and someone else’s cart gets in each other’s way and you have to do the “no you go first” and “no, you go first.” 

You prayed that you had been good enough in this life to escape some kind of grocery-store induced hellscape. 

Partly it was Bomi’s fault. Temperamental nuisance. Three days into her newest bag of cat food and she suddenly decided to go on a hunger strike. The internet  had told you that perhaps she just didn’t like the flavor. Little did the internet know that you had nearly already tried every other flavor there was, even the expensive ones. 

You stared down to your crinkled up list filled with the ramblings of an attempted grocery list and other absentminded doodles. 

DONT FORGET STUPID NEW CAT FOOD 

Under the reminder, you had drawn an angry little cat face with Bomi’s characteristic calico facial splotches. 

“Damn cat. You’re lucky that I still love you.” You uttered under your breath. 

The wheels of your cart screeched as you turned the corner into the pet isle. Of course, you were the lucky one that had to pick the cart that had only three functioning wheels and whined like your mother over the phone. You cringed to yourself, bearing through the sound and the two glances from a mother and her child throwing an obscenely large bag of dog food into their totally normal cart. 

You didn’t need to, but you mouthed a tiny “sorry” to them as you passed them. 

The tall metal racks appeared to touch those flickering fluorescent lights above them as you perused them, glancing over all of the brands which you had undoubtedly purchased one time or the other. 

Tuna, salmon, tuna and salmon, tuna and veggies, salmon and veggies... 

What would it be that Bomi would tolerate this time? Was it grains that she didn’t like? Wet food? 

Merely looking at the prices for the canned cat food sprung such a headache that you wished you hadn’t looked at them at all. But, if it was what your princess would eat... 

On the highest shelf, your gaze caught a brand that you hadn’t seen before, so you summoned your strength to stand on your tip-toes, stretching up your arm as far as you possibly could, teetering just a little... 

“Al...most--” 

“Here, I can get that, let me just--” 

“--Oh no, it’s fine, I can reach it, thank you--” 

“--It’s alright, I’ve almost got it...” 

His elegant fingers got tangled up with yours. Had your determination been any weaker, he would have snatched it up all himself, but...

He chuckled a little. “Are you sure?” 

You turned your head to affirm, “Positiv--Minho?” 

“Y/n?” 

You had finally had the little can in your grasp, only to feel it slip out of your fingers in your shock. 

The terrible sound of the aluminum can hitting Minho’s head and glasses bonked between your fumbling arms, working just too slow. 

“Ssss-OW!” 

Minho’s hand went immediately to rub at the top of his head with eyes tightly shut. 

“Oh my god!!! Are you okay?” 

Instinctually you swooped in to see if any harm had been done. 

“Ah-I’m fine, don’t--I’m fine.” 

Your neighbor patted down his head, trying to craft a smile for you under his painfully crossed brows. 

“Are you sure? I-I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid and clumsy, don’t you think that you have a concussion or something?” 

He laughed out a sharp chuckle, then winced at what the action did to his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you sure about that?” If he could have heard, he would have noticed your heart anxiously beating at a hundred times per second. 

“It’s okay, really, I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.” 

“What the hell could be worse???” 

“You don’t want to know.” He maintained his hopeful grin. 

Even after being assaulted by cat food, he was still just as beautiful as you remembered. 

“Oh! Your glasses!! Where did those go??” 

Frantically, you spun around, shoving your cart aside with another startling screee. Quickly you found them nearest the bird seed. 

“Here. Here you go, I hope that they’re not broken.” 

“Mm-doesn’t look like it.” Minho inspected them. 

“Oh thank God.” 

He huffed out one more little scoff-sounding laugh. “At least you’ve got the cat food that you wanted now. 

“Yeah, but at what cost?” 

“I said don’t worry about me.” 

Minho fluffed his hair back into place, likely hiding another rub to his throbbing head. 

What even does one say to someone who you nearly wrecked with cat food? 

“You uhh--what are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, getting cat food.” Minho snatched a bag of food from a lower shelf. “With three mouths to feed you tend to run out pretty fast.” 

“Oh! I-uh...can imagine.” 

“Weird shopping here like I live here now...never thought that would happen. I’m still getting used to everything around here; never knew that I would end up back living with my mom...and at my age.” 

“Don’t-don’t feel bad! It’s a nice area around here! At least I think, and it’s a... nice grocery store...” 

You did not think that it was a nice grocery store, but it seemed like the right thing to say. 

Minho smiled back at you warmly, just as he had done back on your doorstep, tabby cat in his arms. You had wanted to see it again. 

“-Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often too then.” He took the cat food can--his ex-assailant-- to drop into your cart. 

“I guess so...and sorry, again.”

“Really don’t worry about it!” Minho rolled up his hands into little sweater paws on the handle of his cart. “I’ll see you later then.” 

“See...you...” 

Your words trailed behind him, seeing as he had already started wheeling away. As soon as he was out of an earshot, you cursed yourself out terribly--another habit you had developed since living alone; you really were your only company. 

“God, Oh god. Now he thinks that I’m a recluse and a wreck, oh god--” 

“--Hey! Watch where you’re going!!” 

An old man with a newsboy cap griped before you nearly collided with him and his cart full of diet sodas. 

“Sorry!! I’m so sorry!” You bowed profusely in apology while removing yourself from the isle as fast as you could.

Grocery stores really were your own kind of personal hell. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The cold metal of the bus stop sign dissolved into your sweating forehead while you watched the springtime sunset fade out before you. It really was pretty, and it was just enough to distract you from how weighed down your backpack and numerous reusable bags felt. Had your hands been free, you would have taken a picture. 

What time is it even? 

Your watch was restricted by the number of straps around your wrists. Sometimes stepping outside of your home and onto the sidewalk was draining enough to make you feel like scurrying back inside. Big trips like this however, had you falling asleep in those uncomfy plastic chairs in (also) disgustingly messy buses. 

To your right, you heard the usual hum of the number 10 bus wheel up. 

“Wait! Wait!! Hold the bus!!” 

Hurried footsteps came patting behind you, followed with shallow running breaths. 

Hair bopping and cardigan flopping a little like wings behind him, Minho sprinted to the doors. 

“Take a seat ma’am.” The bust driver snapped you out of your embarrassment over seeing him one more time than you would have liked. 

“Ah-sorry, I will.” 

You shuffled your way near back of the bus and attempted to hide your face behind your bags decorated with none other than flowers and cartoon cats. 

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.” You chanted under your breath while your neighbor looked for a seat. 

“Y/n? Heh, I just keeping running into you don’t I?” 

“Minho!!!!” You piped, just a little too animatedly. “Huh! Didn’t figure I would see you here...too...” 

Minho slid into the booth across from you. “I mean, it makes sense, we’re going to the same place basically.” 

“Don’t you...have a car or something?” 

“I do, but I figured that the grocery store was close enough, although, I didn’t really factor in how all of this would weigh a ton.” 

“Hm, I never really do as well.” 

A pair of older lades glared over at the two of you, clearly displeased that you were disrupting their peaceful bus ride. Minho cowered under their piercing and aged brown eyes, then stealthily slid into the seat next to you. 

His washed out jeans brushed up against your leggings, and you felt your hairs stand on end. If there was someone out there who decided if you went to a hellscape grocery store, they must have also been able to mask the smell of your sweat. You hoped that they were listening to your pleading requests. 

“It’s a really a nice evening isn’t it?” 

Minho peered out your window at the little shops and bustling streets beside you. The sidewalks were decorated with little skinny trees here and there which had just started to bloom with the buds of leaves and flowers. There was a peaceful air about the scene that reminded everyone that the cold would soon be gone for good, and the sky swirled into pinks and purples. 

“Oh! Yes, yes it is.” 

You tried your best to ignore the fact he was leaning into you slightly. 

“So. What else do you do besides be a cat parent and a part-time chucker of canned goods?”

You wanted to crawl in a hole once you saw his adorable grin once more. “I-I have a job, a couple actually.” 

“A couple? And what are they?” 

“I teach online college courses in creative writing and English.” your glasses fell a little down your nose bridge, so you adjusted them accordingly, “I also edit for a small publishing company--but that’s more of a side thing.” 

“That’s...a lot of writing and things like that.” 

“Well, it’s what I went to school for, and, I don’t mind...although my mother--” 

“--Have you written anything yourself? Anything that I could read?” 

You felt your cheeks set ablaze with heat. “You?! Oh no no no no.” 

“What?” A mischievous grin overtook Minho’s adorable one. “Do you write provocative content?” 

“No! I do not!” Your tone turned more defensive than you had intended. 

“Well, what do you write? Even if you did write that kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind. Provocative contents are trendy these days.” 

“I didn’t even say that I write in the first place!” 

“I just assumed seeing as you seem to do other things in this field...so, what do you write?” 

“It’s embarrassing, and I don’t owe you the knowledge!!” 

Minho reached over your fuming body to pull at the bus cord, letting out the little stop requested tune. 

“What is it that you do then?” 

“Something boring and business-y that you wouldn’t care to know about. It’s definitely not as interesting as what you do I’m sure.” 

Your neighbor gathered up his bags while the bus slowed to the stop. 

“You coming?” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[19:07] 

me: seung, i’m such a fool. you will not believe 

seungmo: should I even guess? what? Bomi yack during your online lecture again? 

me: no, worse. 

seungmo: i’m listening. 

i guess i don’t really have a choice though don’t I? 

you’re just gonna tell me anyway aren’t you? 

The cat in question purred in your lap, permitting you your usual one hour of cat-attention a day like she would during the evenings. After your day of embarrassment, you had hunkered down on your favorite place on the couch, swaddled in blankets with the TV playing some nature show that you had been trying to pay attention to. Somehow, the thought that Minho living just doors away made it all seem even worse; you were bound to see him again. 

You bit your lip and started tapping away at your phone screen, regaling the entire tale to your best friend--who frankly had enough of your awkward “you-isms.” However, no matter how socially insecure you were, Seungmin appeared to stick by you. In fact, it was one of your “you-isms” that had brought the two of you together. 

Four years ago at that pet shelter where you had got Bomi, Seungmin was there too looking for a dog. It was Bomi’s skittish self that leapt out of her cage and into Seungmin’s arms when his dog started barking. Bomi had nearly destroyed Seungmin’s sweater by the way that she had clawed into him. Of course, you took her crime upon yourself and insisted on buying him a new sweater. After an exchange of phone numbers, he hadn’t gotten bored of you yet. Bomi had always liked him more than you--the traitor. 

[19:18] 

me: ...and then he showed up on the bus, just as I had thought that I had escaped, and then started berating me about what I do for a living. 

seungmo: are you sure he wasn’t just asking questions, NOT berating? 

me: it felt like it. 

seungmo: and why are you telling me all of this? 

me: bc I wanted you to give me some comfort?? or reassurance?? isn’t that what friends do? 

seungmo: what do you want me to say? I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing? get over it? stuff like that happens to you all the time y/n, I don’t know why you are making such a big teal of it. 

*deal of it. 

me: wow, you’re being of such help. 

seungmo: you’re overthinking it. as always. 

me: but i’ll have to SEE HIM again. 

Seungmin’s little three writing dots disappeared, and you waited in silent anxiety for what he would say next. 

[19:24] 

seungmo: you’ve got a crush on him don’t you 

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The evening sky had darkened, and you felt the air temperature begin to drop. It wasn’t unbearable however, and you had prepared yourself well with your giant sheep-like blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The cold wire chair that you sat in was undoubtedly pressing shapes into your bare legs crossed up on it, but you never seemed to mind it. 

Bomi yowled behind the sliding glass door to your backyard, so you allowed her to exit, making her a much happier cat. The two of you enjoyed these nights together deeply--they almost felt like a brief escape from life. Bomi would sneak around the edges of the fence, sniffing and looking rather suspicious when her green eyes would glow in the light of the house. Your glasses likely looked the same reflecting the light from your computer screen. 

You took one more sip of tea, then opened up your internet. A couple clicks, and you found the notification screen on your page. 

hearts: 267 

shares: 19 

comments: 21

Your eyes scanned over the little paragraphs that some of your readers had written for you. It made your heart swell with immense joy seeing the way that they had analyzed and picked apart every little part of your prose and how they would write IN ALL CAPITIAL LETTERS about how excited they were for your next chapter. 

~

I can’t wait for the next chapter! I’m DYING to know what was in that chest!! I really hope that Bomi can trust Davers. He just seems a little shady to me >////< 

YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS. The fact that Bomi could fight off the dragon while Blaze was confessing his feelings for her??? I could never lollll 

 P L E A S E protect little Herbie. He’s such a cutie. I wish that hedgehog companions were real, I would take one with me everywhereeeee 

N/n, your writing is so so pretty!! I felt like I was right there in the scene with them! The way that you described the enchanted fountain had me drooling ahhh you’re such an inspiration to me as a writer!!! 

Blaze fanclub?? i’m trying to see somethin’ 

~

“If Blaze were real, I’d be the president of that fanclub.” You laughed out to yourself. 

Suddenly, you found you thoughts shifting from your dreamy Blaze to someone much less fictional. 

Crushes on boys who were real was much better than one’s who weren’t. It was nice admitting it to yourself at last. 

“Ahhhh” You sighed out, doing a little happy dance in your seat, then opened up the chat box to return to the replies. 

After responding to as many as you could, you opened up a new chapter. 

Chapter 22 

Blaze wiped off his sword, stained with the steel blue blood of the dragon, still steaming with heat underfoot. His disheveled deep black trellises were coated in his own sweat but it didn’t make him look any less dashing--per usual. 

“Princess Bomi, you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Bomi sheathed her own sword, then inspected her wooden shield for any more damage. For a moment, she thought that the claw marks made it look even more beautiful and intimidating. 

“Blaze. You know that I can’t talk about romance at a time like this, have you forgotten that the kingdom as stake?”  

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Bomi perched at her usual spot in the window, eyes fluttering closed before she would take her nap that would last for nearly the whole afternoon. You would have been lazing with her, but that would have to wait another hour or so: with your newest paycheck, you had decided to deliver some new flowers to yourself for your garden. 

The little array was spread out before you: yellow and purple pansies, pink tulips, fuchsia and baby pink peonies, and dainty while lilies of the valley were arranged where you had planned to adorn your front lawn. The aroma of the flowers lingering in the air was enough to make you feel as if you had transported yourself to the very magical gardens that you would be writing about that evening. 

A pair of songbirds chittered past, carrying their whistles behind them. For a brief moment, the sun shone directly onto your arms spotted with dirt and filled your whole body with warmth. Nothing was more peaceful than this. You took to work, crackling them out of their plastic pots, and digging at the earth in holes to hold them down. After a while, you felt the dew from the grass start to soak into your work-jeans, but it was a welcome little cool feeling. Next, you popped up to hose them down with your little attachment that made the water cascade like a rain-shower. You admired for a moment how the water would create little rainbows from the spray. 

“Ahem, uh-hi there!” 

You choked out a gasp before swinging around, aiming the hose like your sword to the startling voice. 

“STAY BACK!!’ 

You pointed the stream directly at them, only in your horror to see your neighbor, trademark cardigan and all, soaking wet from your weapon. 

“GOD! That’s cold.” 

The fabric hung onto him, adhering to every part of his body which was much more toned than you had expected.

Minho looked absolutely bewildered as the water dripped off his frame with sad little pat pat pats on the concrete sidewalk. 

“Oh God. Oh God. Minho, I’m so so sorry. I-I can’t believe that I keep doing this to you--” 

You nearly felt like crying, but for fear of embarrassing yourself further, you decided to turn around quickly in search of your rags. They were garden rags, but dry nonetheless. 

“Here, here, I-I think that these should help.” 

You dabbed at his body, although it was clear that this wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

“Stop, stop,” He pushed your hands away. “I just live next door, I’ll live being a little drenched.” 

“You realize that's an oxymoron right?” Your nervous hands continued dabbing. 

“A what??” Minho kindly laughed at your frantic hands. 

“It’s a...writing thing. Sorry...” 

“I really need to be careful around you don’t I?” 

Your mouth crinkled into a flustered line. “M’sorry.” 

“Can you quit apologizing?? Here, I came over to give you these, my mom made some extra side dishes so she wanted me to bring them over to you.” 

“Oh.” He handed you the little bundle of Tupperware containers. “Thanks.” 

“She also, or--I mean--I wanted to invite you over so that you could meet my cats...and! my mom. My mom too.” 

“You want me to come over?” 

“I did mention that I wanted to a little while ago didn’t I?” 

“Oh! You did...” 

“Does next Saturday work? Around 5?” 

“I-I can do five.” You brushed your muddied hand across your sweating brow. 

Minho scoffed, “You’ve...got something...on your...” 

“Oh! Oops.” You tried your best to wipe off the dirt, but you didn’t know you had only made it worse. 

Minho squeezed out his soaked sleeve to carefully raise it to your forehead. “Here, like this.” 

This close to you, his brown eyes deeply shone with the color of coffee, chocolate, the bark of forest trees after a spring rain, and a million other things that your writer brain could compare them to. 

“There. It’s all gone.” 

For a moment, you wondered if you really had fantasized him, or if he really was real. For you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was some kind of figment of your imagination: they usually were. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[1 missed call, Mom, 09:12] 

“Y/n are you there? Why is it that you never pick up your phone? I’ve told you so many times that you should pick up when I call. What if it’s an emergency? What if someone’s died?? Nevermind, I wanted to call and tell you my friend’s daughter is getting engaged and I’ve been invited to the bridal party. I think that you should come with. It’ll be good to get you out of that house. 

Why is it that you haven’t gotten yourself married yet? You know that you aren’t getting any younger?? Either way, call me back. You’ll need to bring a gift too. Its impolite to show up without a gift. 

Ah, I almost forgot. Your brother got a promotion at work; I’m not sure if he’s told you. We’ll be having dinner to celebrate this weekend. Can I count on you to be there? 

Also, how is the job search going? Your father has some more connections for you to speak to. You need to take advantage of every one of them. You’re so close to getting something that really matters. I can feel it. Ah, I just feel like you’re wasting away there sitting at that computer with those silly classes. It’s like, barely any contribution at all. You could be making so much more money. 

Anyway, call me back once you hear this. 

love you sweetie, talk soon. 

i know that its tuesday and i said I would publish on mondays shhh just pretend I published this yesterday ooP 

#yeeee here it finally is!! #Ro back on her fanfic writer shiii #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids drabbles #stray kids oneshots #stray kids imagines #lee minho fanfic #minho fanfic #lee minho imagines #minho imagines #skz minho fanfic #skz minho fanfiction #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop oneshots #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #Lee Minho smut #Minho smut

[downywrites]

“It’s payback time.”

Hello there, folks. It is I, a bird. With a keyboard. Bird says hi. Enjoy fic. (Please note-there is swearing.)

The sound of hooves clopping loudly on the cold castle floor echoed as Schlatt weaved through the long corridors. His heart pumped loudly in his ears as he tried to gain speed as much as he physically could without slipping on the smooth stone. He heard the sound of feathers rustling behind him, making him speed up his gait more in a feeble attempt to escape from his pursuer. “Leave me alone, you piece of shit! We’re adults, you bird-brained idiot!” 

The pursuer in question chuckled as he pursued, his feet hitting the floor much more gently than the cloven-hooved man. “Adults still have fun too, you know~ Come here, Schlatt!” He called, signature wings tucked close to his body to increase his running speed. Schlatt’s eyes widened and he screeched to a halt right before hit a wall. He searched frantically for an exit, cursing quietly under his breath. “Out of all the areas in this godforsaken castle, I had to find the one area with no exits? What the fuck is this castle made for, just to confuse people?” 

He turned to see King Philza, ruler of the Arctic Kingdoms, standing at the only hallway exit, wings spread menacingly. “Heya, Schlatt. How ya doing, mate?” He ignored the winged hybrid, trying to run past him in a desperate bid to escape. Philza used his wings to block his path, pushing him down smoothly. “Gotcha.” He pinned his arms with one hand. He immediately started tickling Schlatt’s sides, poking and pinching firmly. Schlatt burst into instantaneous laughter, curling in on himself and bleating angrily at him. “Yohohohou fuhuhuhucking bihihihitch of a bihihihird!”

 He struggled and bucked, trying to escape him. Philza ignored his swears and curses, tickling at his tummy and sides with his wing tips. “Tickle, tickle, little ram boy. So cute!” “Ihihihi’m nohohot cuHUHUTE!” He was so focused on his tickling techniques, so intent on his goals, that he had loosened his grip ever so slightly on his hands. Schlatt grinned. He pulled at his hands in one quick jerk, slipping out of his grip and grabbing where blindly at where his wings protrude. As he clutched and squeezed, soft and hard muscles squishing gently under his fingers, Philza stopped tickling him with a loud squawk. He tried reaching for his hands, then at his arms, but it was already too late to stop him. He rolled them over, still massaging Philza’s wings roughly. “This is what you get for being such an unruly prick of a ruler!” He risked letting go of his wings to scratch quickly at his melt spot, in the hopes of weakening the hardcore warrior. It had the desired effect- Philza loosened up a bit, his laughter going up an octave in turn. “Ehahaha, Schlahahatt, nohoho!” 

“Schlatt, yes! Revenge, motherfucker!” He continued teasing and scratching at the bird man’s melt spot, until his wriggling and squirming had all but subsided. He looked into his dazed and tickled-silly eyes, smirking. “Is that all you could do? I think you can do better than that, birdie.” An idea popped up in his head, his ears flicking in excitement. “So, little birdie, do you think your little ‘dungeon’ would be helpful? I mean, nobody goes down there anyways. Perfect for us~” He sing-songed, grabbing and hoisting the bird man over his arm, with a bit of a struggle.

 As he walked to the dungeon entrance, he continued to tease and prod at his melt spot, making sure Phil didn’t awaken from his ticklish daze. The man in question barely attempted to escape from him, making small little huffs and calls in between his laughter. As they descended into the barely-used ‘dungeon’, Philza began to put two and two together. He started squirming on his shoulder, protesting weakly under his breath. However, the ram wasn’t as weak as he looked, keeping him on his shoulder with ease. Once he reached a good room, he let go of him, letting him tumble to the ground unceremoniously. Philza attempted to escape, only to fall back to the ground with a squeak as Schlatt scribbled over one of his feet as he crawled on the floor. Schlatt grasped one of Phil’s ankles, pulling him onto an interrogation table with both hands. He flipped the bird man over, attaching restraints and chains with resounding clicks and clinks. At this point, Philza was genuinely struggling to escape, but try as he might, the bonds held firm. He looked over his shoulder in slight fear, but his wings blocked the view. He cursed his anatomy, not willing to unfold his wings and give Schlatt the advantage. 

“So, Philza.” Schlatt’s booming voice made him flinch, wings tightening in their folded position. “Not so kingly now, huh? I ain’t a real citizen here, ya know. To all of your maids and butlers, all I am is a tiny little ram you keep as a pet.” He dug his fingers into one of his folded wings, rubbing at the down underneath. “That means that they’d never, ever believe that your little rammy would ever be able to truss you up like a prize pig, eh? Speaking of pigs.” He traced little shapes over his captive’s wings, delighting in the way that they shivered under his touch. “I think Techno’s out and about, isn’t he? I don’t think he, or any of your sons, for that matter- are going to come to your aid. It’s just me and you now. Any regrets?” 

Phil, for good measure, was already giggling and hiccuping, squirming in his bonds as if that would change a thing. “Nohoho, plehehease! Schlahahatt!” “Please? Nah, I don’t think so. This is too good of an opportunity to give up, hm?” He drew a little face in his feathers, leaving them ruffled in his wake. Schlatt dragged his hands from the king’s wings down to his sides, tasering him. He watched the royal’s face contort into a forced-back smile, grinning evilly. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end, Philee? Coochie, coochie coo, my king~” 

Philza whimpered slightly at the baby talk, blush burning brightly on his face. “N-no, Schlatt...nohohoho bahahaby tahahalk!” He shook his head, his bucket hat shifting dangerously on his head. Schlatt saw this and, with a dramatic flourish only the ram could muster for such a foolish thing, he scooped it up, placing it on his head haphazardly. “Whoopie, I’m the king now! Bow to your ruler, Phil…. Oh wait, you can’t.” 

He dug his fingers back into his side, squeezing at the closest hip. The reaction was instantaneous. Phil bucked and arched his back, wings extending out like a black curtain to either side of him. “EhEEE! GihihiHIve mehIHI MiHIhi hahahat bahahack!” He snorted at that, balancing the hat precariously on one of his curling horns. Quickly taking advantage of the outspread wings, he dug his fingers into the inside of one, making sure that he dug deep enough into the feathers to poke at the muscle beneath. Once he had done so, he raked through the feathers, dragging his fingers over the sensitive muscles roughly. The bird hybrid tugged desperately at the chains, laughter making his whole body quiver like a worn-out violin. The wings themselves trembled, attempting to fold back in and away from the ram. He grabbed at the wing he was stroking, holding on to the crook of the wing firmly. “Oh no you don’t, you fucking pigeon.” He chortled at the feeling of the feathers fluffing up in annoyance underneath his hand. “IHIHI’M A EHEHEHAGLE, YOHOHOHOU FUHUHUCK!”

 Schlatt ignored him in favor of digging his fingers deeper into his feathers. The king squawked, flapping his trapped wing and dislodging the other hybrid’s hands. He retracted them fully, tightening them so much they shook slightly with the effort. Ram ears flicked in annoyance, and Schlatt huffed a bit, stomping his hoof slightly at the recalcitrant lee. “Why, you little-” His eyes drifted to the king’s exposed back, and he rubbed his hands together, chuckling darkly. From the corner of his eye, he saw Phil’s feathers stand on end in alarm, which made him even more certain of his next move. He strode over to the other side of him, hooves making loud clopping noises as they struck the floor. “Hey Phil? I always wondered why you had such an exposed back on all of your clothes. After all, weren’t you oh so very ticklish there?” He dragged one finger up his spine, delighting in the little shivers and nervous giggles he got in response. “But now that I’ve been in your shoes, worn your crown, I think I’ve found out why, oh great king of the Arctic.” 

He reached the small of his back, rubbing circles just around the melt spot teasingly. He leaned to the side, whispering into his ear. “I think this great king, the powerful warrior, yearns to be wrecked. Tickled until he can’t speak. He wants someone to rub and tease at his wings until he can’t breathe, can’t call for help. You love this, don’t you? You should give up on escaping, Philza. You’re mine.” He growled the last words, delighting in the way the warrior startled from his sudden tone change. 

Philza whimpered loudly under him, pulling one wing over his face in embarrassment. “Y-yohohohou…” His whole body shook with the effort of not bursting into hiccupy laughter from the circling. His eyes pricked with tears. If he wasn’t chained down the way he was, he would’ve wiped them off in annoyance. A good king should never cry in front of their subjects. Then again, was Schlatt a subject? I mean, he did essentially just wander in with Tubbo at his heel. They- 

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts by a hand ghosting over the muscles of his back, the anticipatory giggles escaping from his mouth before he could stop them. Schlatt growled playfully, mimicking the emperor’s favored form of informing his sons of his mood. He started counting down, fingers wiggling just barely over the king’s shivering back. “10, 9, 8, 7…” As the countdown got closer and closer to zero, Phil got more and more nervous and giggly. He pushed the wing covering his face more into his mouth, effectively muffling his giggles. Schlatt frowned at that. “5..nah, that’s enough.” He started roughly scribbling all over his back, pinching and scritching at the base of his wings. He marvelled at the texture of the downy seams there. It was perfectly soft, similar to the feeling of a downy, silky pillow’s innards. 

Philza’s wings flicked open fully, unable to resist the instinctual reaction. He shrieked, tears pricking at his eyes again. “EEEEAAAHAHAHA hic SCHLAHAHAHAHAT! NAHAHAHA- hic NOHOHOHOHO!” He bucked and squirmed, only to force Schlatt’s hands deeper into the sensitive plumage. The ram hybrid in question continued his onslaught, poking and prodding at every spot that made his laughter hitch up a notch. Soon enough, there were genuine tears rolling down Phil’s face. 

At this point, the bird hybrid’s blush had reached his ears and down to his collarbone, tinting the lighter flesh a tanned pink. His wings had all but gone limp, hanging gently over the edge of the table and flapping gently when he gained enough energy to. Schlatt ignored the signs of his subject’s stamina flagging, choosing instead to mess with more areas around and slightly below the back. Once he heard his hiccups cease, however, he finally slowed to a stop, letting the winged man rest. He watched Phil’s chest rise and fall in shallow, stuttering heaves, before deciding to flip the man over. He placed him back in the cuffs, about to lock the last one in, only for Phil to grab onto his hand tightly. 

He flicked his ears back, scared of the punishment he knew the emperor could bring upon him, but the only thing he felt was a small, unsteady circle on the meat of his thumb. He looked down to see a panting, smiling, tear-stained face, as regal and poised as he was undone by the rough tickling. “Schlahahatt, Ihihihi’m ahahalright.” He grinned widely at him, wings opening slightly from behind him. Schlatt looked at him, unsure. What if this was a trick? A ruse? If he manages to get me down here, he might execute me. I’ve never had to deal with a fucktard ruler like him before. He shook his head, moving to undo the restraints before he got into a deeper pile of shit. The king’s hand tightened, making him gasp from the sheer strength behind it. Didn’t this man just get wrecked?

 Philza’s voice echoed in the room. “Schlahahatt. Ihihi.. Ihihi wahahant thihihis.” He looked back just in time to see Phil avert his eyes, blushing again from his intense (and confused) gaze. He looked at his form, simply admiring how weak and vulnerable he looked in the bonds. He was so used to seeing this very same form sitting on his throne, helping people with their work, being kind and caring in every manner to the people of the Arctic Empire. He had seen him in many a fight in the castle, wings out and spread like a living cape, sword shining like a beacon of hope in the darkness of night. He had listened to his booming voice, powerful and noble, yet rustic and warm with the sweet undertones of honey. He had seen it all from afar, heard of his deeds far and wide, long before he ever set hoof in the area. And here he was, holding such power and control over such a noble warrior, the one whose wings could reach the sun. For once in his life, he could not find a single snarky word to say, not a single thing to do. He could not move and break this peace, yet this man, the king with many names, had beckoned him forward to finish the job. He felt as if he were the one vulnerable and at someone’s mercy, not as if he was the one holding the rope. 

He stepped forward robotically, closing and securing the last shackle. He stepped back, looking straight into the king’s confident, sky blue eyes. “A-are you sure I can do this to you, your majesty?” He managed to croak out, ears flicking nervously. He nibbled a tiny bit at the skin on his knuckles, shifting on his hooves. Phil nodded, hair bouncing up and down a little as he did so. “You may, Schlatt.” As he moved forward towards the bound man, Phil whispered under his breath, just barely loud enough for his sensitive ears to pick up. “Just remember, you’re going to pay for that stunt you pulled earlier, no matter what you do here.” He stepped back a bit at that, bleating in surprise. The winged man chuckled at his reaction, grinning sneakily at his captor. 

Schlatt narrowed his eyes at him, stepping close to his face. He whipped out his hands from behind him, making Phil close his eyes instinctually, before untying his (as in, Tubbo’s, but he still hasn’t noticed the loss of it yet) scarf, pulling it over the king’s eyes. He secured it, tickling gently under his chin as he pulled away. Phil was definitely not expecting that, yelping long and loud at the sensory deprivation. He tucked his head into his shoulders at the gentle tickles, already laughing. The inability to see where Schlatt was going next was already killing him. “Schlahahahatt! Nohoho, plehehease nohoho!” 

Schlatt raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? Begging already? What happened to the ‘noble king’ act you were sporting a few minutes ago, hmm? Was that all bravado? Oh, please.” He started tracing shapes over the man’s torso, gently tickling there, and moving downwards to his belly. As he did so, he started getting more and more random, until he was scribbling and pinching all over his tummy haphazardly, reaching the same frenetic pace as before. Phil was already tearing up from this. Even though none of these spots were as bad as his back, the blindfold made it impossible to see where the ram would poke next. Every poke and scribble made him buck in the restraints. His mind screamed at him for deciding to let Schlatt do whatever he wanted. He could kill you anytime. Thankfully, he had already known that Schlatt wasn’t going to harm him. He had checked the ram’s pockets before they had started, stating that ‘he didn’t want him to attempt to steal anything and eat it as they went’. He had found no weapons or anything that could be used to kill him, so he waved that thought off with ease. He won’t touch me. He cares for me. He smiled in genuine happiness, trilling and cooing in the back of his throat in unadulterated joy. 

The ram hybrid smiled, continuing to tickle at his tummy and sides. “Having fun there, Philza? I think you are~” As if he wanted to prove his point, he dug in a little harder, causing the bird hybrid to buck up more into his hands. His laughter went squeaky from underneath him, making him chuckle darkly. “Ohh, coochie, coochie coo! Doesn’t it feel good to be the one getting wrecked for once? Revenge is so sweet.” 

Philza nodded his head wildly, making the ram chuckle even more at the intense looking movement. He moved to his hips, digging his nails into the strong bones there. He watched his king buck up and screech with laughter at the new movement, one hoof stomping happily in return. He squeezed and scribbled over the man’s hipbones, delighting in the honey-warmed laughter he got there. He wondered how the emperor could have such a smooth and comforting laugh, even when he was being tickled silly by one of his so-called ‘subjects’. He continued to rub and tease at his hips, enjoying the light pink trails that he left as he went. He moved back to his stomach, scratching with his thumbs over his abs. He gently rubbed at the scars, marvelling at the texture but wincing in empathy at the idea of how he had earned them. 

To Philza, this was the most torturous yet heavenly thing to have ever happened to him. Never in his lifetime on the throne had anyone ever dared to fight back, much less restrain him and blindfold him in this manner. Sure, he had many a tickle fight with his sons before- but they’ve never, ever decided to go this far with him, even in the most intense of moments. Yet here he was, at the mercy of a hybrid he had met not long ago who had absolutely no affiliation to the throne nor the country. If he was anyone else, he would have been worried, afraid even, of this person, this enigma of a creature. 

Fortunately (and unfortunately), he was not anyone else. He was not afraid of such a creature tumbling into his life, instead adopting him as one of his own and treating him similarly. He loved him dearly, and he was overjoyed to find that this rude, often grumpy ram hybrid called Schlatt truly loved him back. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do this. He knew that his officials would have been concerned at his lack of safety, but he knew the truth. He knew that trust comes from powerful vulnerability. So, instead of snapping the restraints he knew exactly how to break, he sat there, wiggling in blissful agony as Schlatt dug into his most ticklish scars.

 He didn’t remember how long he was there, tears streaming from his eyes, wings unfolding and refolding. He didn’t remember when Schlatt finally finished, unshackling him and rubbing at his chafed wrists, mumbling apologies. And he certainly didn’t remember when he drifted off to blessed unconsciousness, cuddling with the ram on the now-warm interrogation table, no. What he did remember was awakening to see a now very trussed-up Schlatt, hanging from his wrists just barely on a stool, with two of his sons growling at him menacingly. “W-wait, boys! T-techno, Wilbur! We can t-talk about this, right?” He looked desperately at the king, ears flicking back in fear. He got up from the table, wings stretching out fully behind him. As he walked forward, wings dusting the ground as he went, he grinned at the terrified hybrid. “Remember what I said earlier about what I’d do to you for yesterday?” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “It’s payback time.” And so, the ram’s laughter echoed through the dungeon, bouncing off of the restraints that so tightly bound the king, sealing his fate for that morning (and the day after, for good measure).

Thank you for reading. Bird thanks you.

#mcyt tickle #downywrites #lee!philza #ler!schlatt #dsmp tickle #my writing #sfw tickling

[sope-and-shine]

Kitten

-> Pairing: Cat shifter!Jin x Reader (ft. Bunny shifter!Baby Koo)

-> SFW // fluff, humor, angst

-> Word Count: 5.5k

-> Summary: A cat is an adult kitten. A rabbit is an adult kit. Cat shifter Jin is not excited to have baby rabbit shifter Jeongguk.

-> Warning(s): Jin’s a jealous baby, mild language, bunny baby koo is very threatening everyone

*

*

*

“Take it back.” 

“No.” You hadn’t even made it to the living room before you were stopped by your boyfriend. You had hoped the blanket would cover any suspicious body language you’d possibly give off, but having a shifter boyfriend with enhanced smell didn’t help.

“Take it back.” He says again, anger evident in his voice. 

“Jin-” You had a feeling he wouldn’t be okay with your last minute decision when you made it, but you figured he’d at least let you explain. However, the adult cat shifter in front of you did not share the same thoughts. The way his eyes glare at the orange cloth in your arm is enough evidence.

“Take it back, (Y/n).”

“He’s not an it, Jin!” You scold, holding the small bunny swaddled in a blanket closer to your chest. “He’s a shifter just like you, and the little guy needs a good home! What would be a better home for him than a home with a smart, talented, reliable-”

“I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work-!” He was no stranger to this tactic. You’ve used it before when he wouldn’t go on a rollercoaster or through a haunted house, and every time he would fall for it because he couldn’t resist the look you gave him.

“-Handsome shifter like yourself?!”

Now was the time when he needed to have more strength.

He sighs, closing his eyes as a way to remain calm, “We don’t need him.”

“Don’t say that when he’s right here, you grumpy feline! You should know better than that!” You knew bringing another shifter into the home wouldn’t be the best idea despite how gentle and loving Seokjin was, but you thought he would at least be open to the idea of helping a shifter in need of a home. Especially one so young! “Jinnie, you should have seen him in that so called home! I couldn’t leave him there while he waited for a real place to go home to!”

Of all the crazy things you’d done in your friendship as well as your romantic relationship, this one had to take the cake. Not only did you bring home a bunny, you brought home a bunny shifter. One that needed care and attention. He needed care and attention! “Look at him! He’s going to take all of your attention! He’s already taking it!”

“Oh, don’t behave like a child! This isn’t permanent, Jinnie. So, for now he’s staying.” You were confident that if he spent just a little bit of time with Jeongguk and got used to the bunny shifter, that he’d be much happier to have him in your home.

“I’m a male, adult cat! Did you think I was just going to be all happy about this? Especially a shifter that isn’t a cat?!” He asks. “Is this some sort of hormone phase you’re going through?”

“This is not a hormone thing!” You glare at the stubborn man, right hand squeezing around the handle of the plastic bag it carries. You heave a sigh, “I was hoping you’d at least be more welcoming to a young shifter in need of some love and attention.”

“I would be. I really would be.” Raising his hands to his face, Jin presses his palms into his cheeks. His eyes close and reopen, a bright, sunny smile taking place of his frown, “But I want all of your love and attention and he’s taking that.”

“Well, tough luck, Kitty!” You turn yourself away from him and take a few more steps towards the kitchen before the bunny in your arms shifts, stilling for just a moment before he moves again. You smile, “Oh, he’s waking up~”

The kit’s nose twitches a few times, inhaling your scent before he opens his eyes. He blinks once, then three more times, almost as if the little shifter thinks he’s in a dream. In a fluid motion - one that you don’t think you’ll ever grow accustomed to - the small rabbit’s paws stretch out and he shifts into the small boy you met at the shelter with big, brown eyes and a mess of dark brown hair on top of his head all fluffed up from the nap he’d taken. His doe eyes look into yours, then glance behind you as his nose catches the scent of another shifter in his presence. You watch him as he stares back at Jin, his expression unreadable as the older shifter tries not to glare at a child half his size. 

“Jeongguk, this is Seokjin.” You introduce, giving the boy a soft smile as you turn your body to face the other shifter in the house with him. You look to Jin and give him one of your more firm smiles as a warning, “Jinnie, this is Kookie.” You move to bring Jeongguk closer to him, only to have him hold up a hand and stop you before you come any closer. 

“I’m good.” Ignoring your glare, he turns his hand to offer a handshake to the small child in your arms and smirks, “Hello, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk stares at the hand before him, hesitant to reach out and shake one much larger than his own. Instead, the small boy makes a fist and puts it against Jin’s palm, “Hi…” The two have what looks to be a one-sided stare down, with Jeongguk unsure of how he should act around the older shifter and Jin doing the actual glaring.

“Why don’t we eat dinner?” You break up their ‘contest’ with the mention of food, taking the unaware child away from the jealous cat that definitely wasn’t finished with your conversation from before. You set Guk on the counter next to the groceries, changing your attention to find the bag holding the food you’d bought for the three of you.

“Now, I bought this while I was out, but we can cook dinner together tomorrow.” You take out the three boxes of food you’d purchased at the store while Jeongguk had slept in the cart, ignoring the presence of Jin standing over your shoulder. You grab the box you’d made for Guk and place it on the counter before moving the young shifter so he’s not at the edge of the counter, “Here you go, Kookie~”

“Thank you, Miss (Y/n)...” He gives you a toothy grin before grabbing his chopsticks to dig in. You watch him for a moment, stifling a giggle as his fried tofu slips out of his grip. Behind you, you can hear the sound of another container opening, Jin taking a plate for himself to eat. At least for now you can try and show Jin the positive side of having Jeongguk in your home.

...

“Bleh!” You hear the retching sound come from behind you, “What is this?!”

“What do you mean?” You ask. You turn around, watching as Seokjin pushes his tongue under the top of his teeth as if that would save his poor taste buds from the flavor you’d subjected him to. The tray you’d heard him open sits on the counter with a used napkin just to the side, no doubt holding the food he was trying to forget for some reason.

The feline in question gives you a heated glare, eye moving between you and the tray of food, “I mean this-this-...this blasphemy?!” 

Your brow raises in confusion, “Are you referring to the tofu?”

“Of course I’m referring to the tofu!” His pout almost has you convinced, but this is Jin.

He’s eaten tofu before. 

He’s cooked it for the both of you on multiple occasions. 

He’s the one that wants you to buy tofu.

You take a deep breath in, choosing to remain calm with Jeongguk still in the room eating his own food, “Jinnie...you’ve eaten tofu before...”

“No ma’am! This is an abomination.” He argues. Jin knew good and well why you bought tofu for everyone, and he was going to use that knowledge as leverage for why you couldn’t keep the bunny shifter happily munching away on the counter. 

The boy in question tilts his head, one ear flopping behind his head, “Adomnimation...?” He says, confused as to what the word meant.

“Abomination, Kookie. Don’t worry about it.” You coo, turning your attention back to him. You pull him into your arms and rest him on your hip, using your now free hand to grab his plate and walk him over to the table. You set him down in a chair and place his food in front of him, ruffling his hair just a tad as he looks at you with his big doe eyes. You smile, “Sit right here and enjoy your food, okay? Jinnie and I are going to go talk in the other room. Yell if you need me.”

“Okay, Miss (Y/n).” The little boy returns to his food, happily munching on his tofu and swinging his feet that don’t touch anywhere near the floor. 

You walk out of the kitchen, Jin hot on your trail. You lead him to your bedroom where you crack the door before turning to him, “What is your problem?”

“My problem is the tiny little crotch goblin trying to steal your heart!” He complains. Jin was many things; handsome, intelligent, a great cook, and very jealous. You knew that! So, why you brought home another creature requiring attention was beyond him.

“Do not refer to Jeongguk as a crotch goblin! He is a child.” You fire back, trying to remain as calm and level headed as you can with the man in front of you. 

“A child trying to steal your heart!” Jin’s angered frown turns into more of a pout, his arms reaching out to your shoulders and pulling you into his chest while he buries his nose into your neck where the young rabbit shifter has been laying. It was petty - and honestly, just a little pathetic - but he couldn’t help it. “I have your heart.”

“You do have my heart, Jinnie, and Jeongguk being here won’t change that.” You say, voice muffled by the firm chest in front of you. This was how most of your fights usually ended, one of you holding the other to calm down before things got out of hand. You let your arms wrap around his middle and squeeze, feeling the heavy pressure that had built up fall off your shoulders. You sigh, “I know you don��t like this set up. I’m sorry. I should have said something to you before I brought him home.”

“You should have.” He grumbles into your neck, making you giggle.

“But I knew that my handsome kitty would be the best person to help me look after Jeongguk while the people at the shelter look for a home for him.” You pull away from him just enough to look at him, “I know this is a tough adjustment, and I should’ve been a little more considerate to your feelings on the matter, but I couldn’t let him stay in that shelter waiting for a forever home by himself.”

Jin had told you what his childhood had been like living in a shelter. It wasn’t the worst experience he’s ever had in his life, but a shelter was no place for a child. Most of the shelter was overrun by shifters that had been pushed to the streets with nowhere to go, unable to find a job that would accept them or a home that would allow them to stay. Even with all the laws put in place to push for shifter’s rights, it wasn’t an easy road by any means. Unfortunately, Jin knew that all too well and had watched it happen to others in his life.

“He stays until he finds a home.” Jin sighs. Even if he wasn’t totally okay with your actions and was still reeling from a pinch of jealousy, he knew that if you really took the little bunny home he’d never forgive himself. He couldn’t do that. “This doesn’t mean that I like him. I will tolerate him for you.”

“You won’t regret this, Jinnie!” You reach up to place a quick peck against his lips, “Let’s go eat!”

*

*

*

After the talk you’d had with the jealous cat, he seemed to be much more ‘welcoming’ to the little kit. He finished his tofu without complaint - especially since you knew he liked what you’d bought for him - and even decided to start a small conversation with Jeongguk. It wasn’t a great conversation, mostly consisting of him asking questions with words larger than the poor kit could understand. Then again, that was probably Jin still being petty towards a child. You knew he couldn’t help it, and that there was a part of him that was probably ashamed of his own behavior towards Jeongguk as well, but you were just glad he was being...nicer.

Now, as the both of you lay in bed after washing up both yourselves and Guk, you hold your boyfriend close to you as a way to apologize. His face rests in the crook of your neck, lightly sniffing and nuzzling your scents together with arms around your waist as you run a hand through his hair and another over his broad shoulders. 

“Thank you for being nice.” You say, resting your cheek against the soft strands of Jin’s hair, “I know it’s not ideal, and I really am sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first.”

“Ah…” Jin sighs. He raises his head to rest his chin on your chest, brown eyes staring up at you, “I can’t be mad at you either. My beautiful girl is just too kind for this world!”

You smile, feeling heat rising to your cheeks and Jin chuckles, “But it was pretty bad of you to not talk to me about a decision like this…Maybe you and I should have a talk~”

“Jin…” You whine, hiding your face behind the palm of your hand. 

Jin takes your hand and pulls it away, leaning forward to place a kiss on your cheek. He goes to place another on your lips when a beat of thunder rumbles in the sky above, a small voice crying out after, “Miss (Y/n)...!” 

You go to move but Jin holds you in place with a hand threaded in your hair, “He’s fine.”

Jin leans in for another kiss, but another crash of thunder followed by a, “Miss (Y/n)!” stops him. A soft thud comes from the next room, followed by a soft patter of footsteps and Jin sighs, “You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

“Get a hold of yourself.” You scold. The little boy in question comes bounding into the room, arms stretched out reaching for you in the darkness. Just as you prepare for his little body to jump on top of you, you’re surprised when midair the doe-eyed boy turns into a little bunny and bumps into your chest. “Oh! Kookie!”

His little nose digs in between your breasts, trying to hide himself away as much as he can with his whimpers being muffled by your body. You adjust your hold on him to be able to pet him, hoping to provide some more reassurance than the soft cooing that leaves your lips, “It’s okay, Kookie...it’s just a little thunder.”

Jin adds his own hand to the small rabbit’s back, “Yeah, let’s just take you right back to bed.” 

The pink haired man tries to slip his hands under the rabbit, but the small shifter quickly shifts back to a boy to wrap himself around your body, “I don’t wanna go back! It’s too scary…”

“Oh…” You wrap your arms tighter around the small boy, “You can stay in here with us, Kookie, it’s okay.”

Jin’s eyes widen, “What?!” 

“He stays in here with both of us or just me. You choose.” You turn your back to Jin and tuck Jeongguk under the covers with you, paying no mind to the overdramatic man behind you.

“Fine.” He huffs, pulling the covers up to his shoulders and glaring at the fluffy ears resting over your shoulder. He glares, ‘You win this round, crotch goblin.’

*

*

*

It wasn’t like Jeongguk was ruining Jin’s life.

Except to Jin he most definitely was. The bedroom incident was just one of many encounters that managed to tick Jin off.  

Jin sits on the couch enjoying the recording he had missed the other night for Moana. He didn’t mind watching Moana instead - though he could do without the little voice screaming at the top of it’s lungs - but now it was Seokjin time.

And that’s a time that should not be messed with. 

He’s only 10 minutes in when the little thumps of his houseguest leave the kitchen and come to him. He tries to ignore the small shifter as he hides behind his armrest, but it’s hard to ignore the little hands that still have traces of syrup on them.

“Can we watch cartoons, Jinnie?” The bunny asks.

Jin shakes his head, refusing to look over, “It’s Seokjin, and not right now.”

“But I really wanna watch cartoons, Seokjinnie.”

When Jin still doesn’t acknowledge him, Jeongguk tries to tap on the cat shifters arm. His syrup coated fingers pull at Jin’s arm and the man is quick to turn, “Seokjin is watching his shows. Go wash your hands.”

The little bunny pouts, looking at his hands before rushing off to the bathroom. Jin can hear the water running from the couch and it makes him smile knowing he’d gotten the small child to do as he asked. It’s when he returns that Jin is not quite as happy.

The brunette boy climbs onto the couch next to the older shifter, using his pant leg to pull him up much to Seokjin’s displeasure. He sits himself in the middle of the couch beside Seokjin, but his focus isn’t on the TV. “Why can’t we watch Kookie’s show, Seokjinnie?”

“Because Seokjinnie says it’s big boy time and cartoons are for babies!” The man huffs. He truly hadn’t thought before he spoke to Jeongguk, he honestly forgot that he can’t talk to a child the way he would scold Namjoon. It’s when Jeongguk’s disappointed pout turns into soft sniffles and the twitching of the little boy’s nose that he even realizes what he’s done. “No. No, please don’t do that. Don’t cry…”

“I’m n-not a b-baby! K-Kookie is a big boy!” The rabbit shifter defends, wiping at the tears in his eyes before they fall. He tries so hard to put on a brave face in front of Seokjin, but his heart has already been far too hurt. He moves his hands to his ears and pulls them over his eyes, “I’m a bi..buh…”

From the bedroom upstairs, you peek your head out, “Jinnie? Is everything okay down there?”

“Everything is fine!” He yells back. He grabs the remote to turn up the TV volume before he turns to Jeongguk, “Come here! Please, stop crying!”

Even as Seokjin brings the boy into his arms, the small child is still letting out soft sobs and tiny sniffles, “-m nah crying...crings fer b-babies!”

He tries his best to soothe the bunny just how you would, but his small sobs don’t seem to stop. Out of panic, Jin changes the channel to the first kids show he can find, turning up the volume some more to play over the sounds of Jeongguk’s crying with the sounds of high pitched puppets singing about numbers.

“Look! It’s a kids show!” Jin lifts the crying boy from his arms and repositions him on his lap, softly shaking his shoulders to get his full attention.

“Wha..?” The bun lets his ears fall to the side and it takes him a second to realize what he’s seeing before his doe-eyes light up at the sight of his favorite cartoon. Out of excitement, the small shifter grabs the arm that Jin uses to keep him from falling off the couch, “Puppet Friends!”

“Hey! Let go of my arm, crotch goblin! Seokjinnie doesn’t like this!” Jin tries to pull his arm away, but the little boy only shushes him.

“Shh! You can’t interrupt Frog Puppet! That’s not nice, Seokjinnie!”

“Yeah? Well, let Seokjinnie tell you something, little bunny. That frog puppet isn-” 

“Oh my gosh!” Your squeal of excitement cuts off the cat shifter before he can say anything more. You rush over with your phone out and ready and take a picture, “Look at the two of you sitting together watching cartoons!” You come to the side of the couch so you won’t get in the little boy's way and press a soft kiss to Seokjin’s lips, “Thank you.”

The look of pure adoration you give him makes his heart flutter, “Yeah...no problem.”

So maybe that situation didn’t turn out too bad for him, even if he did have to finish watching Puppet Friends. But if he thought that TV was the only issue he would have, then he was wrong.   

“What did you do?” 

Before Jin is a sight he never thought he’d be seeing in his spare bedroom. Glitter glue bottles and crayons are spread around the floor, some with glue still dripping out of the bottle or the wrappings torn off next to the crayons. Beads and stickers decorate the surrounding areas around them, specks of glitter shimmering on the carpet every time he turns his head to look at something new that catches his eye. Even articles of clothing were lying haphazardly on the floor with glitter and glue covering them, but none of that meant anything to the bunny boy happily coloring on the floor.

He looks up to the older shifter with a toothy grin, “I’m making art for Miss (Y/n) when she gets done with adult time! I used the art stuff she got me!”

“Yes. Yes, I see that.” Jin tries to take in the sight of his guest bedroom with a grain of salt, knowing in the back of his mind that the little boy just wants to do something nice. If it had been anyone else he would already be yelling, but after the last time he misspoke to the child he didn’t want to go through that panic again. He takes a very deep breath, “Jeongguk, you’ve made a really big mess here!”

“Is not a mess, Seokjinnie! It’s art!” The brunette boy reaches behind the end of his bed and pulls out a folded mess of fabric, glitter, and stickers, “Look.” Before him was what used to be his favorite blue, button down shirt with ‘Bestest Silly Cook!’ written in various colors of glitter glue and stickers of all shapes and sizes. 

“Is-...did you get this from my closet?” 

“Yeah!” He nods, ears swinging, “(Y/n) said you were the best cook, but you were silly too! I couldn’t choose just one!”

The blonde is almost rendered speechless, “That’s...great! Keep working~” He gives the kit a thumbs up and closes his door, turning down the hall to yell at his girlfriend, “(Y/n)!”

Your head pops out of your bedroom door, your music softly playing into the hall, “Yes?”

“Your adult time is over!” He motions for you to come to him and you do, letting him open the door to your destroyed guest bedroom so you can see what the boy had done, “Do you see this?!”

You notice the mess - both on the little by and the room - but you can’t pass over the crumpled shirt that lays by his side, “Aww, that’s so cute Jinnie. He likes you!”

“He likes to make messes too!”

You roll your eyes playfully, “He’s a kid. You should be happy he thinks so highly of you~”

“He’s a crotch goblin and he’s just ruined my favorite piece of clothing!” You laugh at his dilemma, but the cat doesn’t find the situation as funny, “Don’t laugh at me! Fix this!”

“Okay!” You throw your hands up in surrender, “I’ll have him clean up his mess and I’ll take him to buy you a new shirt to replace the masterpiece he made.”

“Masterpiece? Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

He’d never admit that he hid the shirt away in his closet to keep it, because then he’d have to admit that he was wrong. He’d hide it forever and a day. But the icing on the cake had to be that first weekend you left them alone together. Not only did you leave Jin to care for the small, annoying bunny shifter.

You left him to care for the small, annoying, sick bunny shifter.

“Come home.”

In the 4 hours that you’ve been gone, Jeongguk has already thrown up on himself, his bed, and Jin twice. His fever was higher than the sun yet low enough to not be a hospital visit. And he refused to eat any of the soup and take the medicine that both you and Jin had gotten for him. It’s nothing short of a miracle that the young shifter finally fell asleep.

You look over your shoulder to make sure the conference isn’t starting before turning back to him, “Would you stop being dramatic? You’ve taken care of me when I’m sick plenty of times. You even took care of Namjoon!” 

“Yeah, well, at least Namjoon can blow his own nose!” Jin argues. From the small nest in the middle of the floor, JIn can hear the soft whimpers of the little boy and he sighs, “I did not sign up for this, (Y/n).”

“Jinnie~”

“No-” He holds his finger to you, “Don’t try to push your womanly charms on me to make me submit to your wishes!”

“You’ve never complained before.” Jin glares and you laugh, “Look, I’ll be home Sunday afternoon and then I will take care of Kookie all week. Just take care of him until I get back.” Jin groans and you move yourself farther away from the other people around you, “If you do a good job and he gets all better, then maybe I’ll thank you.” 

This seems to peak his interest, “Oh, really?” 

“If he’s still at the house when I get back.”

“He’ll be here.” He looks over to the young boy huddled under the softest blanket in the house and sighs, “I guess as long as he keeps himself tucked in then I can survive another day and a half.”

“I know you can do it, Jinnie.” You flash him a smile before you hear the speaker behind you step up to the mic, “I gotta go! Love you!”

“Love you too.” You hang up on him and he’s left with his lockscreen of your smiling face next to his. He looks up to the sky and closes his eyes, “Please give me the strength.”

---

Despite how terrible his Friday evening had gone, Jin’s parental instincts wouldn’t let him stray away from the kit lying in the guest bedroom. Sure, he put it off the first few times as just doing what you had asked him to. He was a responsible adult shifter, and he could take care of a child by himself for 3 days. But then, he continued visiting the guest room. He checked his temperature once every hour, changed the rag on his head every half hour on the dot, and woke him up twice now to give him medicine and some water. 

He didn’t like the bunny shifter. He just felt bad.

Simple as that.

There was no attachment.

But despite what he said to himself, it took all of Jin’s strength to remain seated on the couch watching baking shows instead of checking up on the bunny once again. It wasn’t like he cared or anything. 

He just didn’t want you to kick him out of the house for not taking care of him.

“Seokjinnie…?” Jin looks down to the nest he’d made in the middle of the living room to see Jeongguk sitting up with a blanket in hands. His hair is all tousled and he has a sheen of sweet covering him. His doe eyes that are usually shining and full of excitement are droopy and tired. 

If there was ever a picture that didn’t look like Jeongguk, it was this one.

“Hey, look who’s awake.” Jin pauses his show and gets up off the couch, crawling over to the mass of blankets that swallows the rabbit. He places the back of his hand against the young shifter’s sweaty forehead to feel his broken fever, “How do you feel?”

“I-” He tries to breathe in, “I can’t smell.”

“You can’t smell?” He asks, the little boy shaking his head, “Oh no! Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay? A bath should take care of that!”

Jeongguk nods and simply puts up his arms to be picked up, letting Jin pull him into his embrace and carry him off to the bathroom. His little arms stay in a loose grip around the older shifters neck while he draws his bath for him. Even when Jin moves him to the bath, the small boy doesn’t want to let go. But Jin manages to coax him off of his shoulders and into the warm water.

As he washes away the sweat, he tries to coax a smile onto the boy's face. But no bath toys or copious amounts of bubble beards seem to do the trick. The personality change has Jin worried that the small shifter may be having a more serious issue than you and he had originally thought.

After Jin pulls the plug on the tub and gets the boy out to dry him off, Jeongguk finally speaks up again, “Is Miss (Y/n) home yet?”

“Not yet. Tomorrow.”

“Oh…” The disappointment in the boy’s voice isn’t missed, and the blonde feels the ache in his heart.

“Do you feel better now?” Seokjin asks after the young shifter has had his hair dried and his warm pajamas pulled on. He nods, but doesn’t say anything more. He only stands in front of the cat shifter and Jin sighs, “You’re okay. C’mon.”

Jin lifts him into his arms again and carries him out of the bathroom, taking him past his bedroom to the stairs, “No bed?”

“No bed.” Jin assures him. He takes him back to the living room and picks up two of the blankets from the nest on the floor. He sits them both on the couch and wraps the little boy on his lap in the soft fabric, “You’re going to sit with me for a bit. We can watch cartoons.”

Jin turns the TV on once the boy is thoroughly swaddled and changes the channel to the Fox and the Hound, setting the remote down beside him before letting his arm rest over Jeongguk. They only get a few minutes in before Jin feels the poor thing shaking on his lap.

“Are you cold?” He asks. Jeongguk nods and Jin takes a moment to think. Instead of grabbing another blanket, he takes off the hoodies he’s wearing. He unwraps the little boy from his blanket prison and pulls his hoodie down over his head, swallowing the little boy in the sea of fabric, “Better?”

Jeongguk nods. His long ears are tucked into the collar of the hood, but he makes no move to fix them. Instead, the young boy turns himself so he sits sideways on Seokjin’s lap. His little hands grab onto his blue undershirt and he lays his head on his chest.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Jin asks.

Jeongguk nods and Jin grabs his legs, moving them so the little boy can lay out next to him. The little hands on his shirt don’t let go, even when he grabs the blanket to throw over the two of them. Jin tries to turn him around so he can see the cartoon, but the bunny doesn’t budge.

“Kookie...don’t you want to watch the TV?”

He shakes his head, “Wanna cuddle...Seokjinnie.”

Jin feels his heart tighten, and it constricts further when the boy stretches out and shifts into the small kit he is with ears still too long for him. He nuzzles into his chest, and all Jin can do is wrap an arm over him to keep the bun from shifting again and rolling off the couch. 

Maybe the next 16 hours wouldn’t be so bad.

---

It’s just after 2pm when you finally walk through your front door, “Jinnie! Kookie! I’m home!” 

You set your bags down next to the door and remove your shoes, waiting for an answer but you don’t get one, “Jinnie! Kookie?” 

You hear the TV but neither one of them makes a sound. You grow worried, “Did they go get food without me?”

You go to the living room where the TV still plays, but you’re taken by surprise when you see the giant nest of blankets and pillows that sits in the middle of your floor. At the top of the pile is your small brown bunny with your blonde kitty, the feline curled over the kit’s lower half and his chin resting on the back of Jeongguk’s neck.  

Jin purrs and his ears twitch, but he remains resting securely over your foster bunny. His tail flicks and curls around the both of them, and you can’t stop the awe that leaves your mouth, “Oh...my boys…”

#fae fic #sope and shine #sope-and-shine #kitten #jin x reader #bts jin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #cat shifter #shifter au #cat shifter kim seokjin #cat shifter jin #bunny koo #bunny shifter #bunny shifter jeongguk #bunny shifter jungkook #fan fiction #fanfiction #sfw #fluff

[alilbitofdoodles]

Red Silk & Nylons

---

Rating: E Paring: Elizabeth x Meliodas Word Count : 2367 Warnings: Language, Suggestive themes Summary: Despite his inability to be coherent when his gorgeous girlfriend is dressed in only underwear and stockings, he somehow manages to mumble, "Did I mention how crazy hot you are dressed in red? Because you're absolutely breathtaking." A Christmas Special! Gratuitous domestic fluff for that warm cozy feeling~ Ao3 Link: 📖

---

To be honest, he's surprised she puts up with him and his unbelievably tiny apartment.

Meliodas had offered to buy a full body mirror so she wouldn't have to deal with the cramped space that is his pathetic excuse for a bathroom ( He's pretty sure the maximum occupancy is like one person and a houseplant—it's an architectural feat that they somehow managed to squeeze in the claw tub, sink, and toilet ), but she insisted she was fine. Really, she was fine.

Still, he can't help but feel a little guilty. Especially now since Elizabeth has to apply her makeup while he bathes. He was considerate enough to run the water cold to not fog up the mirror, but even then he felt guilty about the situation overall.

As he gets out of the tub to dry off, wet flaxen hair sticking to the back of his neck, he sighs. He's never been in love like this before. Her happiness gives him happiness and he wants to do everything in his power to be able to provide for her and more. 

Elizabeth was born with a silver spoon in her mouth—no doubt used to a life of luxury. He’s so enthralled with her living with him, but she's almost out of place in his life with how radiant she is. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be enough, but admittedly, he's been getting better. Especially with her. Life seems a little bit easier to manage when you're not alone. Coming home to her warm hugs and bright smile instantly recharges his batteries and he feels like a better person when he’s with her. Someone he likes being, despite his messy past.

In his mind, he knows that his impoverished lifestyle isn't a big deal to her. Doubting her comfortability is just the same as being unable to trust her decision and it feels just as bad, if not worse. He can remember that determined look in her eyes, honest and full of warmth, when she had moved in and called it Home.

Their Home.

Malfunctioning air-conditioning and all.

With newfound confidence he snuffs out the negativity—vigorously fluffing out his hair with the towel as if to scrub the thoughts away.

"How much longer until the Christmas party again?" He doesn’t need to do much, really. Just dry off and put on some casual formal wear. His favorite part was putting on his tie, if only just because Elizabeth would insist on fixing it and he loved the extra attention. He’s guilty of maaaaybe not learning how to tie a windsor knot on purpose if it meant his adorable girlfriend fussing over his appearance.

He looks over to where Elizabeth is and it takes his brain a moment to remember that ‘Oh yeah’  his lungs need air to breathe, because he's sure his body forgot it's own autonomous functions when he sees her.

Elizabeth was leaning over the sink and applying makeup as she normally would, but this time around she was only partially dressed. Her underwear wasn't its usual practical white or nude, but a deep red silk with a sheen that faded to black around the edges. The two cups were edged with black lace woven in intricate scalloped designs. But the cherry on top was the dark pantyhose on her sinfully sexy legs.

Elizabeth tilts her head forward, brushing out her lashes with a little mascara wand, and regards her reflection for a moment before replying aloud, "Mmm...we've got around 45 minutes to get ready so no rush."

As she carefully sweeps the rouge over her lips, it’s color an equally deep red, he watches with heightened attention. The simple act draws his attention to her tulip lips in a coy act of seduction.

He walks over, leaning probably closer than he should, and his mind blanks at a loss for words. Meliodas wonders, always astonished, how perfect she is. She’s so captivating without even trying and Meliodas is just left speechless. His chest is a furnace of warmth and the feeling radiates through his body in little tingles.

Elizabeth spots him staring from the mirror and looks at him without turning around, "What, you think it's too much? I don't normally wear this shade, but Christmas, right?"

Despite his inability to be coherent when his gorgeous girlfriend is dressed in only underwear and stockings, he somehow manages to mumble, "Did I mention how crazy hot you are dressed in red? Because you're absolutely breathtaking."

Elizabeth turns to face him and shyly bites her lip. "O-oh, you like it? I bought it while I was out getting the ingredients. Normally I wouldn't splurge on underwear  of all things, but it came in a set. Plus it had a deep holiday discount..."

Meliodas swipes his thumb over her bottom lip, smudging her lipstick, and his dick throbs at the sight of her. Half-dressed wearing ruby red underwear and silken black pantyhose. He wants to ravage her. See how undone and desperate she looks while he's fucking her in front of the mirror.

"Ah, Meliodas, " Elizabeth pleads, a cute whimper of restraint, and it has his sanity hanging by a thread. "Mmm...w-we need to leave soon..."

"In a second, let me just—" Meliodas places a slow kiss, hungry and needy, upon the dip between her neck and shoulder and immediately he smells her warm perfume; the longer he lingers, the more he can pick up the notes of sweet, spiced vanilla from when they were baking gingerbread.

He slides his hand underneath her bra to palm at her left breast and god does it's pillowy softness fill up his hand just right. His fingers lightly sink into her flesh while the lace bites at his skin. Despite the slight pain, the reminder of said lace only sparks something hotter and deeper within him.

With skillful fingers he easily unlatches the offending material and Meliodas impresses his body against her. Fingers roam her body all slow. It's a careful exploration as he maps out all her sweet spots and judges her reactions. The slight graze of his nails against soft skin earns him a delicious little shiver; a firm grasp has her breathing hitched and heavy; a small tweak to her hardening nipples has her lower spine arching to the ceiling with silent, barely there moans.

Meliodas anxiously grinds his body into hers, his now stiff cock pressing against her ass, and he savors the intoxicating feeling. Another pump of his hips has the tip of his dick just barely reaching her clothed core and he makes it his goal to glide between it over and over again.

Elizabeth airly moans and her voice is heavenly music in his ears. He repeats the thrusting motion with more force and is again rewarded with her beautiful song of praise. He wants her to feel it too. The faster he glides, the more she reacts and it's like a continuous cycle of pleasure with both of them climbing higher and higher within their rapturous daze until—

RIIIIIIP

They both stop, eyes wide, quietly staring at each other for a couple of seconds.

Elizabeth is panting, slightly out of breath,  "Did you just..."

"Uh,  yeah I think I did…"

There's a small opening of torn threads stretching down her pantyhose. He's pretty sure he's stained her thighs with his precum and he can already see her soaking through her underwear more clearly now.

"You know, actually, your hole is kinda hot."

"D-don't say it like that!"  Elizabeth quickly defends in embarrassment, "Gosh, look at them. I don't think I have a spare. I mean, it's not like it'll be seen from underneath the dress so it should be fine...maybe it'll be okay?"

Meliodas hears her voice, but is only vaguely listening. He's far more interested in this little rip he's created. With careful focus he hooks his finger into the seam, playing around with the frayed edges, and something in him feels so strongly compelled to just—

RIIIIIIIP RIP

"Meliodas!"

The sound of thread snapping echoes in their little bathroom and Elizabeth gasps. The sheer material stretches over the fleshy skin of her plump butt as he tears apart the nylon even more. It’s not enough to pull it completely off her, but just enough to reveal more of her creamy skin. It’s like a flip is switched and he's, once again, rubbing his hardening dick across the wet spot on her underwear. Meliodas guides his dick along the slit of her panties, sliding the head along and angling it just right so that it tugs back at his foreskin with every thrust. 

It's miraculous how delicious it feels. Smooth and silky like water against his skin.

Meliodas sighs, breathing in ragged, hot breaths against her ear. "Close your legs a little bit." And she does, and the added friction and heat only spurs him on.

Meliodas felt that throbbing pleasurable ache every time Elizabeth breathlessly whimpered his name with every heavy stroke of his cock. It drove him to near madness. His actions became more urgent, more forceful, but it only had her moaning louder. Her nails dug into his scalp a bit painfully, but the pleasure made him blind to it.

He loved this. He loved her. She’s always beautiful, but there was something so thrilling and empowering to see her so immersed in nothing but the passion he could give her. He'd give her all of him and the world if he could, but it still wouldn't be enough. She compliments him and fits perfectly in his life.

"I love you." his voice rumbles between her shoulder blades while he comfortably nestles his hips between her legs.

"I love you too." She murmurs before placing a gentle kiss over his messy hair.

He pulls his face from her and has a wide, mischievous grin that exudes confidence. "So...do you wanna?"

As he strokes his still-hardening erection along her soaking arousal, Elizabeth gasps "Y-yes! Oooh, I-I need you. Please."

Without preamble, he uses two fingers to stretch the elastic band of her panties to the side, revealing her glistening folds bare to him. It’s almost a shame he's unable to take a taste of her sinful sweetness, but he has more pressing matters to attend to.

The tip of his dick is wet and his mouth slightly drops open at finally being inside.  As he slowly sinks further into her, he can feel his cock twitching in anticipation. It's a miracle he didn't just mercilessly fuck her into their bathroom counter right then and there.

With a gradually growing speed, he began plunging his cock in and out of her clenching body and it's almost painful how pleasurable it feels. Another thrust, quicker and harder this time, and Meliodas was rewarded with her sweet sinful, praise. Her back is arched so that the tip of his head is squeezed with every thrust.

It seems like Elizabeth had begun to lose herself to it all. Her insides stroked his shaft with every pass and she thrust her hips back in order to dig his cock in deeper. 

Meliodas firmly grasps her hip with one hand the best he can to anchor her as he begins to push his hips harder, thrusting into her at a wild and merciless pace. He was getting close, but he wanted to ride out the pleasure of being within her for as long as possible. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to come inside Elizabeth so badly, but he doesn't want it to end. The pleasure coils in his stomach as he strains himself from releasing inside her. 

"Elizabeth you feel so good. Everything is so soft .  ..Ah—ngh...I'm gonna...haa..I wanna come so badly."

"A-ahh, mmm! I-it's okay," her breath hitches as he nics a particularly pleasurable spot—judging by how she shudders beneath him. "Please, Meliodas, please...I'm so close.." 

The hot pressure of her tight core fluttering and enveloping his cock is consuming his mind and body in a blinding euphoria. His vision is starting to blur as his thrusts become more reckless. Pleasure singes his nerves and quickly he braces himself onto the counter. He picks up the pace, driving into her with long, intense strokes, and firmly clenches his jaw so hard that his teeth begin to ache. 

Her walls clench and constrict tighter and tighter and he knows she finally reached  her limit when she chokes back a pleasured sob. Her body deliciously shudders around his cock and immediately the unrelenting heat engulfs him and crashes down hard and unforgiving. 

The tension in him snaps and Meliodas buries himself harder and deeper, feeling his cock pulse whilst inside Elizabeth. He felt her body tightening on him as he continued to pump his hips repeatedly, intermingling their essences and slicking her plush walls with his seed and finishing inside her with thick, jerky spurts. As his release begins to taper off, he gives a few shallow thrusts while keeping a firm grip on her hips to fill her up as much as possible.

As they're coming down from their high, Meliodas flips her around and pulls her in for a languid, sloppy kiss. Sucking her tongue, then swirling and rolling them around each other until his head went blank and dizzy. 

He paused to pull away, licking his own equally swollen lips, with their mouth’s barely touching and breathing in each other’s air. Both of them dripping with sweat and Elizabeth’s body still trembling with aftershocks from her own release.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth I—" his voice is rough and breathless, "I love you so much, I couldn't resist."

"Mm...I love you just as much." She whispers, equally as tired. She brings her hand up to brush away at his sweat-slicked bangs to look more earnestly into his eyes. "But I have to say, we probably are going to be late for that Christmas party now."

Elizabeth gently laughs and it's like heaven sighing. It's so tender and infectious that he soon finds himself laughing along with her.

At least this time they could take a nice, long bath together. 

#Spicy Melizabeth #Let's see if tumblr gets my butt for that preview image lol #my fics #my art

[jenonctcity]

My Ending - Part 2

Differences – Na Jaemin

Part of the Bad Boy Series.

Badboy!Au, Streetracer!Au

Disclaimer: This is going to be a very dark themed story, please do not read if you are triggered easily by the mentioned subjects in the warnings.

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mental Health Issues (Depression and Anxiety), Mentions of Drug Use/Overdose, Mentions of Drug Addiction Effecting Baby After Birth, Explicit Content.

Word Count: 8.3K

It was only a small lie. A teensy, tiny, white lie that couldn’t hurt anyone. And it boosted Jaemin’s confidence enough for him to flirt like he wasn’t unexperienced. He had no idea how Renjun had managed to lie so much throughout his life. Every time Jaemin made up stories of fucking random girls, he felt a burning fire in the pit of his stomach from the guilt of lying about it. Still, he didn’t see the harm in lying about being a virgin. He knew the only time it would matter would be when he got a girlfriend, which is why he decided to be transparent and tell you the truth instead of lying. You gave him a raised eyebrow and wide-eyed look. He tilted his head at your reaction and gave you a knowing smirk.

“You’re a virgin?” Your voice came out higher pitched than you had expected it to, causing Jaemin to laugh softly, nodding his head in confirmation.

“I am.” He leaned in and kissed your lips hard, overcome with want for you that he couldn’t stop himself from stealing your lips in his. “Does it bother you?” He mumbled into your mouth, his hot tongue pushing against yours as his hands stroked up your thighs to your hips, his fingers digging into you from how tight his grip was.

“No, it’s kinda hot actually.” You mumbled, not drawing away from his lips. He made a deep noise that rumbled from his throat, his kisses moving from your mouth, down your jaw, and to your neck. Your eyelids became heavy as he sucked at your sensitive spot, his tongue swirling around sinfully and his hot breath coming out in puffs against you, sending shivers down your spine. “Why though? You’re so confident and flirty surely you can get any girl in bed?” He chuckled against your neck and pulled away, his lips red and glistening with spit.

“I’ve never had a girlfriend before, and I didn’t want to have sex with some random girl who would forget my name the next day.” He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips as his fingers worked in slow circles on your waist. You felt your heart bloom like a flower in the spring at his confession, your bottom lip coming out in a pout.

“Jaemin that’s so cute, you’re adorable.” You took his face in both of your hands, squishing his cheeks together and making his own lips form into a pout. He whined and tried to draw his head back, his cheeks flaring up bright red from being called adorable. The only person who had ever called him adorable was his grandmother, and that hadn’t been for many years. “Have you ever done…like other stuff with girls though?” You tilted your head in wonder, your thoughts drifting as Jaemin’s tongue poked out between his pouted lips. You let go of his face and instead placed your hands gently on his shoulders.

“Yeah I’ve been sucked off before and eaten some pussy.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal when in fact your heart started racing at the thought of his tongue in your intimate areas. “Have you had sex?” The question was nagging at his mind until he finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to ask you.

“I have, only like three times though with my ex-boyfriend.” You smiled and shrugged. “It was…mediocre, he cared more about his own orgasms.”

“Men aint shit baby girl.” Jaemin whispered, stealing a kiss from your lips again as a loud laugh erupted from you at the irony of his choice of words.

“But you’re a man?” You narrowed your eyes in amusement, his teeth on full display as he gave you a big cheeky grin.

“I’m not like other men though.” He winked, leading you to fake gag from the cheesiness, his fingers digging into your sides and tickling you as a punishment. “Just you wait and see!” He pushed you onto your back, your head hitting his pillows and his body slotting between your legs. You felt a firework of butterflies go off in your stomach from how having his body there made you feel. He reached over you, placing his hands on the bed either side of your neck, your body now completely caged in by his.

“I’m excited to see what you can do.” You smirked up at him, raising your eyebrows suggestively. His cheeks glowed pink and he bit his bottom lip, his eyes boring into yours without breaking contact even for a second. “Virgin.” You sniggered, his mouth dropping open as he sat back, faking offence and letting out a gasp. His hands finding your sides again to tickle you mercilessly. As he tickled you, he couldn’t help but realise that he’d met his dream girl. You weren’t afraid to tease him, you were kind, and you and him just instantly clicked. He didn’t want to voice his thoughts just in case you weren’t both on the same page, but he was almost 100% sure that you were going to be the girl to take his virginity.

---

Having a newborn baby in your arms was strange. Also a blessing, as not everyone would get to experience the wonder of holding a new life in their arms until they had their own children. Her smooth skin, fluffy black hair which she had a surprising amount of, her tiny fingers, and the little noises that would emit from her when she moved around in her sleep to get comfortable had you feeling soft. In the past two months of dating Jaemin you honestly could say that you’d beenhappier than you had in a long time. Jaemin was a whirlwind of everything perfect. He was the best boyfriend you could possibly ask for. His pores seeped with romance and affection, he was funny, and he did everything he possibly could to make you smile. It didn’t even bother you that you hadn’t had sex with him yet, you were happy to wait until he initiated things with you whenever he was ready. You had found out that he was an absolute master of using his tongue though, so you couldn’t complain.

This was your first time babysitting with Jaemin, and so far, everything was going great. Renjun’s newborn baby Jihyo was an absolute dream to watch over, mostly because the only bad thing she could do was cry, which she had only done briefly when she’d pooped, luckily Uncle Jaemin took care of that. Renjun and his girlfriend had decided to take Jiyeon to the zoo for the day without Jihyo, wanting to make sure that Jiyeon was still receiving as much love and attention as she needed. So when Renjun had mentioned in their group chat that he needed a babysitter, Jaemin had volunteered you both for the position.

“She’s so cute, how can anyone make something this precious?” You looked up from her peaceful face to Jaemin’s delicate face. He was sitting with you on the sofa, your back pressed into his chest as he cuddled the two of you. He looked into your eyes and smiled a wide smile, pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose. You didn’t notice how he had literal hearts in his eyes from watching you hold a baby. Jaemin had always had a craving for the perfect family, and he knew he wouldn’t ever have that until he met the love of his life, got married, and had a baby. So he couldn’t help the way his heart kept speeding up as thoughts of wifing you up and making babies with you flashed through his head as if he was looking into the future. He didn’t want to rush things and end up scaring you away though, so those thoughts stayed locked inside of his own head for his eyes only.

“Well someone made you.” His reply had your eyes rolling, but you leaned your head back against his shoulder anyway, a gentle laugh tumbling from your lips at how corny he was.

“I bet you were a precious baby.” You commented offhandedly, not realising the emotional turmoil it would throw Jaemin into. He didn’t know how to tell you that he was anything but precious when he was born. He sighed and leaned the side of his head against yours, his arms tightening around you.

“I was born addicted to heroin.” He whispered, his stomach curdling at the words leaving his mouth. You whipped your head around and pulled it back slightly so that you could look at him properly. He gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his cheeks and it broke your heart slightly.

“Jaemin…you never told me that…” You furrowed your eyebrows in question. Now that you think about it, Jaemin hadn’t ever really spoken about his mother or father, only making a comment about his mother being dead. You didn’t want to pry, and you knew eventually he would open up to you about it, you just hadn’t expected it to be in this moment.

“My mother was an addict, and my father ran away as soon as he found out about my impending existence. My grandmother is my fathers’ mother and she was the one who took me in. She has nothing to do with my father either, I don’t even know where he is.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter, but by the look in his eyes, you could tell it tore him apart and had had an effect on him in the past. “I recovered but it stunted my growth growing up and I was bullied, a lot.” You wanted to grab him and give him a big squeeze, but with Jihyo in your arms it wasn’t possible. Instead you gave him a sad look, one that he could tell you were sympathising with him. “I’m okay now.” And all of a sudden, that Jaemin was gone, like he had never even existed. A big smile took over his face and it was if he had just told you that he’d won the lottery. His eyes moved from you to focus on Jihyo. “Come here my pretty girl, it’s uncle nana’s turn for a cuddle.” He shuffled out from behind of you, now sitting beside you as he scooped the sleeping tot from your hold. You opted not to ask any questions or say anything, just faking a smile and stroking Jihyo’s hair down after it fluffed up from the transfer. You couldn’t even think of what kind of questions you could ask him about his past, and you didn’t know what would be triggering for him.

“You love kids don’t you.” You decided to comment, keeping it positive and a good conversation changer. He nodded his head quickly in agreement; thankful you didn’t insist on talking about his past.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” His eyes flicked up to look into yours and you felt almost stunned by how beautiful he was. Sometimes you’d forget that he was your boyfriend and when you remembered you felt giddy inside. “I have a race on Friday, would you like to come?”

“You’re okay with me being there?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise at his offer. You’d asked him if you could see him race before, and he’d told you that he wasn’t sure if he wanted you there or not.

“Yeah, I want to see your beautiful face after I win.” He looked down at the baby in his arms and pressed the softest kiss to her forehead, bouncing her very gently to soothe her after she started to make a fuss, quiet whines emitting from her and her little body attempting to twist around. His words left a feeling of warmth inside of you, and you knew that you wouldn’t miss his race for the world.

“Then I’ll be there.”

---

“So are you going to be in the car with him or watching with me?” Haechan’s voice dragged your attention from a girl wearing the tiniest pair of shorts you’d ever seen, back to him. He smiled at you in amusement of your shocked expression. He was clearly used to this type of environment, seeing the scantily dressed women, and men who looked like they could break all of the bones in your body with a flick of their wrist. But you felt safe with Haechan, since you considered him to be someone who was able to protect you. The starting point of the race was also the finishing point, and it was behind the old railway tracks that weren’t in the populated areas of the city, less likely for the police to find it. There was a lot of people attending the race, and you had lost sight of Jaemin after you’d arrived with him. He’d passed you over to Haechan, pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and told you he had to ‘take care of something’.

“Watching with you,” You smiled up at him, then furrowed your eyebrows as you thought about it. “would I even be allowed in the car with him?” He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek as he also thought about it.

“Probably, it’s not like you would affect his racing at all.” You didn’t want to ask Jaemin though, because you didn’t actually want to be in the car whilst he was racing. It was a scary thought to you, but you were just curious as to if you could or not.

“When does it start?”

“In about 10 minutes.” You gave him a small smile and let out a sigh, your eyes scanning the crowd to see if you could spot Jaemin. You couldn’t, so you just turned your attention back to Haechan.

“Where’s your girlfriend? Did she not want to come?” His shoulders sank and he gave you an awkward smile, scratching the back of his head before clearing his throat.

“We’re kind of on a break right now, things got a bit too much with the whole Jeno situation and I’m not sure what’s going to happen.” He shrugged, but you could tell he was bothered by it, his eyes drifting to the floor as he kicked at a stone on the floor.

“Oh I’m sorry, Jaemin didn’t tell me!” You felt bad, but you didn’t know so there wasn’t much you could have done to avoid the awkwardness now floating in the air between you both. He shrugged again and gave you a genuine smile, shuffling over from foot to foot.

“Don’t worry about it, come on let’s go wait by the starting line.” He grabbed you by the shoulders from behind and steered you towards where a white line of paint had been marked on the floor. You stood behind the metal barriers, Haechan standing close to you to stop any of the sleezy men from approaching you. He bumped his shoulder against yours and nodded towards the cars approaching the line. “It’s about to start.” You felt your heart sink slightly that you didn’t get to give Jaemin a good luck kiss. You knew what he did was dangerous, and if anything happened to him during the race without you kissing him before hand, you’d be absolutely heartbroken.

“I’m nervous.” You mumbled, glancing at Haechan quickly before giving Jaemin’s car all of your attention. The car visibly rumbling from the strength of the engine and how Jaemin was revving it, the sound loud but muffled with the rest of the other noisy cars.

“Don’t be. Jaemin is probably the best racer here and he knows what he’s doing.” Haechan’s words reassured you but there was still a slight nagging feeling in your stomach that something bad was going to happen.

Everything flashed by quicker than you could have ever imagined. A girl wearing nothing but a bikini top and jean shorts stood in the middle of the dirt road, the white flag in her hand falling to the floor to signify the start of the race. The cars took off with a cloud of dirt left in their wake, the loud engines fading as the cars went down the dirt road. Haechan had told you that after the dirt road finished, they’d race through the city, then they’d loop back around and finish exactly where they’d started. Everyone went back to chatting and mingling with each other as they waited for the tell-tale sound of cars approaching. Haechan got you a can of beer from the cooler in his car and he kept you close to his side. He tried to convince you to dance to the music coming from someone’s car, and as you tried to brush him off, he grabbed you and twirled you around, forcing you to dance with him which had you both wheezing of laughter from how chaotic it was. You didn’t realise how fun Haechan could be, and you felt bad for having assumed he was dangerous and having tried to avoid him as much as you could. You still knew he was dangerous, but you knew he wasn’t a danger to you.

The sound of the car’s engines getting louder brought everyone out of their mingling, and you rushed with Haechan back over to the metal barrier. Jaemin’s car skidded around the corner with perfect control on the dirt road, the rest of the cars close behind him, but he was in the lead. You watched with bated breath, unable to even cheer like the rest of the crowd as Jaemin crossed the finish line first. You felt Haechan’s arms around you, lifting you up and spinning you around.

“He won!” Haechan’s confirmation of what you already knew had you laughing, and you couldn’t control the grin on your face. You felt an overwhelming sense of pride in your boyfriend, knowing that racing means a lot to him and winning is such an accomplishment. He’d told you before that when he doesn’t win, he gets into a funk for a few days, feeling like a failure because the only thing he was really good at was driving. You wanted to disagree with him, but in typical Jaemin fashion, he changed the subject before you could address it. Haechan took your hand in his own and almost dragged you with him to where Jaemin had parked his car. Jaemin was sat on the hood of his car, his arms folded over his chest with a big smirk painted on his face when he noticed you approaching him. He pushed himself off of the car and picked you up as you ran into his arms, holding you by your thighs and pressing his lips to yours.

“You won baby!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding onto him like your life depended on it. Haechan came up beside you and patted Jaemin on the shoulder, mumbling something in his ear before disappearing off. “Where’s he going?” You tilted your head, your eyes following Haechan until he disappeared out of sight.

“He’s a drug dealer babe, I think you know where he’s going.” He chuckled, still holding you in his arms. He laid a soft kiss onto your lips, humming against them in satisfaction with his hands rubbing against your thighs in a massaging motion. “We need to celebrate my win, don’t you think?” He whispered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Mmm we do, how are we going to celebrate?” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Jaemin’s smirk grew and he glanced down at your lips, pecking them with his quickly and trailing kisses down to your ear.

“I want to fuck you.” He whispered in a seductive tone, his grip tightening on you as you gasped in surprise. You felt a fire ignite in your stomach at his suggestive words, the thing you’d been waiting for finally about to happen. He dragged his lips back to yours, his tongue licking into your mouth and making it feel like fireworks sparked between you.

“Please do.” He set you down on your feet, pulling his phone from his pocket and quickly texting Haechan to tell him that you were both leaving. You let yourself into the passenger side of Jaemin’s car, almost bouncing in your seat at how excited you were to finally have sex with Jaemin. Jaemin disappeared for a few minutes before climbing in beside you, revving the engine and placing a big bag of money underneath his seat.

The two of you drove away, and you were surprised to find out you weren’t going in the direction of either of yours homes, your eyebrows furrowing in question but you didn’t bother asking Jaemin about his intended destination, instead just going with the flow, all of your trust in Jaemin. The trees on either side of the rural road were only lit up by the moonlight and the headlights of the car. No other cars were anywhere to be seen as you looked at the clock and noticed is was nearing 2am, so you felt as if it was just you and Jaemin in the world, no other people mattering to you as Jaemin pulled the car into a grassy car park next to a nature trail, obviously no one around to disturb you. You glanced over at Jaemin as he turned off the ignition, the moonlight shining against his beautiful features. You could see that he took a deep breath, clenching his fists and then rubbing his sweaty palms against his thighs.

“I should have known you would want to lose your virginity in your car.” You giggled, reaching over and taking one of his hands into your own. He let out a soft laugh, his gaze switching from his steering wheel over to you. “Are you nervous?” You lowered the sound of your voice, it coming out soft and as your words hit Jaemin’s ears they almost melted from how delicate they sounded.

“A little, I just want to make you feel good.” He found his courage and swooped in, catching your lips between his own and moving his hands from his thighs to rest one on your thigh, and the other on your waist.

“I want you so bad.” You mumbled into his mouth as your tongue fought for dominance, his tongue winning and turning the kiss heated and sensual immediately. You grabbed his hand, popping open the button on your jeans and guiding his hand inside of your panties. He let out a soft gasp, his lips pulling away from yours.

“Fuck you’re so wet for me already.” He almost growled, his fingers moving up and down your folds, spreading your essence up to your clit before circling it with two of his fingers. “Does that feel good?” He laid a kiss to your neck, prompting you to tilt your head away from him to give him easier access.

“Yeah, oh Jaemin.” You let out a breathy moan, sinking slightly in the seat as he started sucking on your neck, his fingers working magic against your over sensitive bundle of nerves. You’d started getting wet from the second Jaemin mentioned fucking you, all of the thoughts that had ran through your head turning filthy and making your thighs clench together on the way there, needing friction in the place you couldn’t wait for Jaemin to touch. You even thought about all of the times Jaemin had eaten you out, licking you to completion like an expert with your thighs thrown over his shoulders, your toes curling as he sucked on your clit like it was his lifeline. What he lacked in experience, he sure made up for in natural talent and enthusiasm. You also thought about how well his cock would fit inside of you, the few times you’d seen it when you’d sucked him off or given him a handjob giving you a lot of hope for how good it could make you feel inside of your tight pussy. So by the time Jaemin slid two fingers inside of you, you were already ready and gagging for his cock to be inside of you.

“Will you ride me?” He muttered against your neck, licking a stripe up your soft skin and blowing cool air against it, a shiver running through you that shot straight to your core. You nodded your head eagerly, grabbing his wrist to stop his fingers. He pulled his hand out of your pants, waiting for you to make the next move as he held his breath in anticipation. You lifted your hips from the seat, tucking your fingers into the waistband of your jeans and tugging them down your legs with your panties in tow. You kicked off your shoes and rid yourself of your jeans and panties, leaving them pooled in the footwell of the car. It was all very hurried, but you didn’t want to waste any more time, and Jaemin was so nervous that he just wanted to get things in motion. Jaemin unzipped his jeans, pushing them down slightly and pulling his half hard cock out of his boxers. He gripped his shaft in his shaky hand, giving it a few pumps.

“Let me.” You pushed your hair behind your shoulders and leaned down, kissing the tip of his cock with a teasing peck, before swirling your tongue around the head. Letting out a sultry moan, Jaemin tipped his head back to rest against his seat, his eyes staring up at the ceiling as he got lost in your mouth. You sunk down on his cock, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head on him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut in pleasure, placing his hand on the top of your head and threading his fingers through your hair. He tugged on your hair gently in encouragement, guiding your head up and down his length with his breathing picking up.

“Baby stop,” He gulped, pulling your head up with his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb rubbing against your hot skin as he leaned in and pecked your lips with his own. “I wanna cum inside of you.”

“Have you got a condom?” You were on the pill, but you didn’t want to risk getting pregnant, it was something the both of you had discussed before and you’d both came to an agreement that if you have a baby together then it would be planned. Jaemin had seen how badly unplanned pregnancies had been on Jeno and Renjun’s relationships, and even though he knew not every relationship went through tough times because of an unexpected baby, he didn’t want to take the risk.

“Yeah.” He reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out a foil packet and giving you a smile. You watched as he rolled the rubber down his fully hard cock, your stomach fluttering from how hot the sight looked. “Okay, I’m ready.” He pushed his seat back slightly, making room between him and the steering wheel for you. You awkwardly clambered over the centre console and settled down into his lap with your legs either side of his. “Hi.” He chuckled weakly, his cheeks already red from how nervous and shy he suddenly felt.

“Hi.” You nuzzled your nose against his, laying a gentle kiss on his lips as you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other one gripping his cock to line it up with your almost dripping centre. Jaemin’s hands found purchase on your hips, his breath hitching as you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

“Oh my-” You cut him off by smashing your lips into his, his moan melting into your mouth as you circled your hips, sitting comfortably and ignoring the slight sting from the stretch you hadn’t felt in so long. “Shit.” He mumbled; the words muffled against your lips. You couldn’t help the big smile that stretched across your lips, overjoyed at giving Jaemin something he’d been waiting for long for and getting such a positive reaction from him. You felt a rush of heat go through you as you realised how hot it was getting in the car, your eyes drifting from Jaemin over to the windows that were all fogged up from the heated situation between you both. He followed your gaze and mirrored your smile, lifting his finger and drawing a heart in the condensation. You laughed and laid your head against his, almost forgetting that his cock was buried balls deep inside of you as you placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

“Can you take your shirt off?” You whispered, your hands coming down to sit at the hem of his long-sleeved, black shirt. “I… wanna see your tattoos.” You felt shy admitting it, but Jaemin’s tattoos were a huge turn on for you. They had an array of colours from wrist to shoulder, mostly black but the colour fitted perfectly with the designs. When he was wearing his long-sleeved t-shirt you couldn’t even tell that he had both arms completely covered in tattoos, and you loved how it was a complete contrast to his butter wouldn’t melt face and baby pink hair. His smirk grew and he nodded his head fast, lifting his arms as you shimmied his shirt over his head, quickly discarding of it in the back seat. “You’re so hot, I’m so lucky.” You dived your face into the crook of his neck, licking a stripe up his slightly salty skin before latching your teeth onto him. You lifted yourself up as you sucked on his neck, his hands settling on your hips as you dropped back down, a dull pang of pleasure mixed slightly with pain blooming to life inside of you.

“Baby! oh…oh!” Jaemin’s moans were like music to your ears when you started to circle your hips, getting a perfect rhythm until you were bouncing in his lap, the car moving up and down in time with you both. Jaemin started to buck his hips up, chasing after the euphoric feeling he’d never experienced in this way before. The heat in the car was rising, and Jaemin’s chest was starting to shine from sweat underneath the moonlight streaming in from the little heart Jaemin made on the window.

“You feel so good.” You praised him, grabbing his face in your hands and licking into his mouth. Jaemin keened at your praise, his hips quicken up as his tongue flicked with yours. You slipped your hands down to the side of his neck and could feel his muscles tense up in, his fingers pressing into your hips tight enough that you were sure they would leave little bruises. You kept your lips on his, trailing your hands down to his biceps and gripping onto them to keep yourself stable. “Right there!” You squealed as you dropped down onto him and he bucked up at the perfect time, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot to your surprise. You knew it was a place that not many men could find, and you hadn’t expected Jaemin to hit it dead on with his first time, but he did, and it left a fire burning inside of you. He smiled, proud of himself for making you feel so good, but it was short lived as his orgasm creeped up on him.

“I’m close,” He whispered, his head falling back and eyes shutting, stars starting to fizzle against the black of eyelids from how hard he was squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck I’m cumming!” He stopped thrusting, his hips stilling as his cock spurted cum into the condom, a long drawn out whine leaving his parted lips that had also stilled against your mouth. You were close, and you knew if he could deal with some oversensitivity for a few moments then you’d be able to chase your own high. You gripped onto his shoulders and started to bounce on his lap faster than before, short pants leaving your parted lips and your head falling to rest on your left hand on his shoulder. It was when he lifted his hips one final time, his half hard cock slamming once more into your g-spot that you felt your thighs start to quiver, your fingers digging into his skin as your orgasm crashed into you. You’d never came so fast before in your entire life, and it was even more shocking to you that someone who’d never fucked before in their life was the one to bring that onslaught of a feeling to you. It made sense that Jaemin came so quickly, but you had no excuse apart from Jaemin being naturally gifted in the bedroom and from how wound up you were waiting for him to fuck you.

“Fuck.” You huffed out, Jaemin’s arms wrapping around you like a blanket to secure you against his body as he came down from your high. He laid butterfly kisses to your neck as you nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling secure and loved in his hold.

“(Y/N)…” You lifted your head lazily to look him in the eyes, the moon reflecting in his dark irises and causing a pool of something unfamiliar to form in your gut. He took a few deep breaths as you stared into your eyes, his gaze flicking down to scan over your face before lifting back to your enchanting eyes. “I love you.” You then realised what the unfamiliar feeling you were feeling was. It’s what lead you to utter the words back to him.

“I love you too.” In perfect synchronisation you both leaned in, your lips meeting in the middle and sealing the love you’d just confession to each other for the first time.

---

You hadn’t heard from Jaemin yet. It was 5:30pm and really strange that you hadn’t heard from him since the day prior, when usually on the days you had work, you’d pick your phone up to multiple messages from him. But today, none. It caused a tiny spark of worry in your stomach, mainly because you knew he was very reckless with his car, even though you trusted his driving 100%, you couldn’t trust every other driver on the road. So instead of heading home, you jumped into your car and headed over to his apartment. His car was out the front, in perfect condition as usual, so you crossed that off of reasons why Jaemin hadn’t messaged you. You let out a sigh in relief, stopping your car behind his own, also noting that Haechan’s car was parked on the road, so at least you’d have someone to answer the door even if Jaemin wasn’t home.

As you approached the door you took a deep breath, knocking timidly and knotting your fingers together in anticipation as you waited for someone to answer the door. It wasn’t long before the door opened, Haechan appearing behind the door with a lopsided smile on his face.

“Oh hey (Y/N), Jaemin didn’t say he was expecting you.” He stepped aside, wordlessly telling you to come in. You walked in, taking off your shoes and smiling up at him nervously.

“He isn’t expecting me, but he hasn’t messaged me today and I was just stopping by to see if he was okay. I’m just happy he hasn’t wrapped his car around a tree.” You laughed softly with no amusement in your voice at all.

“Oh…he’s in his room.” He nodded in the direction of Jaemin’s room and watched as you started to walk towards it. “(Y/N),” He called out quietly causing you to turn around before you reached the door, tilting your head in question. “He hasn’t had a good day…just a heads up.”

“Okay.” You nodded and gently knocked on Jaemin’s door before letting yourself in. The first thing you noticed was the curtains were drawn shut, only a few rays of light peeking in through the gaps where the curtains meet. Then you noticed the big lump on the bed. You had a feeling Jaemin was the lump, his back to you and the duvet pulled up over his head. “Jaem…?” You called out, waking around the bed and catching the eyes of Jaemin. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and only his head was poking out from the duvet, his hair messier than you’d ever seen before.

“Hey.” He mumbled with no enthusiasm evident in his voice. He sniffed, poking a hand up from his duvet to wipe at his eyes, giving you proof that he’d cried at least once today. He made no effort to get up, simply staring at you with a horribly emotionless look behind his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You sat down on the bed beside his body, your hand settling on the top of the lump where you assumed his hip was. He let out a long sigh and momentarily shut his eyes, as if he was bracing himself for something. You’d never seen Jaemin in this state before. He’d always presented himself as a positive, happy person, so to see him looking as broken as he did when he opened his eyes to look at you again shook you to the core. But even the happiest person on the world has their moments of sadness too.

“I don’t want to burden you.” He settled on, the lump moving as he shrugged his shoulders, his lips naturally pouting like a stubborn child.

“Are you sick?” You quizzed on, your stomach starting to curdle from the worry you felt at seeing your normally bubbly boyfriend looking so glum.

“No.”

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you.”

“Did something happen with the boys?”

“No.”

“Did something happy with your grandma?��

“No.” You were starting to feel defeated and slightly frustrated that he wasn’t cooperating with you.

“Okay.” You shrugged, completely giving up and letting out an irritated sigh. You stayed silent, turning away from him slightly to look around his room. You noticed his phone on charge across the room, his normally put away clothes just strewn across the floor as if he’d completely just thrown them there. You pulled your hand away from him and instead knotted it up with your other hand, twiddling your fingers together as you got lost in your thoughts. You felt sick with worry, not knowing how when he would recover from whatever was floating around in his own head. His voice pulled your out of your thoughts, your stomach dropping at what he said.

“I have severe depression, and today I woke up and wanted to kill myself to stop the feeling, the only reason I didn’t was because I saw the text you sent me this morning telling me to have a good day and that you love me. Then I felt awful because I know how it feels to lose someone, and it isn’t ever a feeling I want you to feel.” He let out a soft sob, his eyes squeezing shut and taking in a deep breath as he looked up at the back of your head. He could tell from how your body was shaking that you were crying silently. Your face was creased up as you cried for your boyfriend, feeling your heart crack at this confession.

“Jaemin…” You stood up and turned to face him, tugging the duvet out of his grip. You stripped off your uniform, mainly for hygiene reasons, so you were just in your underwear before you climbed into his bed with him, pressing your forehead against his own. “Thank you.” You whispered, your hand finding on of his underneath the duvet and threading your fingers with his.

“What for?” He gulped, his pillow now wet and uncomfortable but he couldn’t find it in him to care as he felt you there with him.

“For not doing it.” You couldn’t even think of the words to describe the horrible feeling you had swirling around inside of your tense stomach. Your boyfriend had just admitted something so incredibly crushing to you, and the only thing you could think of was how he had kept this to himself for the past five months of your relationship. You weren’t mad. You didn’t think you could ever be mad at him for this. No, you were heartbroken. Heartbroken for him because he had been fighting an internal battle all on his own when you could have been there as a support beam for him. “Talk to me in future, I’m so in love with you and I never want you to fight anything on your own.” Your voice was shaky, small sobs still falling from your lips as you gripped onto his hand tightly.

“I’ll be okay.” He whispered, moving his head up and placing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He pulled his hand out of your grip, instead wrapping his arms around your torso and holding you tightly against his chest. He didn’t want to see you cry because of him, so if he hugged you it would block your face from his vision, and he could bring you comfort. He also didn’t want you to see the tears falling from his red eyes.

“I wanted to pretend everything was perfect. You’re perfect for me, and I wanted a life to match that. I’m sorry baby.” He breathed through his mouth to try and steady out his breathing, his arms tightening around you like a vice.

“You haven’t got to apologise…can I ask why you have depression?” He took a deep breath at your question. You could feel and hear his heart beating against your ear, the steady thumps bringing you more comfort that you thought it ever could. Jaemin poured his heart out to you completely, not missing out any details about his past, answering all the unasked questions you had in your head that you had waited patiently for him to open up to you about. He told you more about his birth, going into detail about his parents and his grandmother. You’d heard this before when you had babysat with him, but this time he told you everything in finer detail. Then he told you about his stunted growth and how he was bullied severely at school, which is what caused him to be the person he is today. It made sense that he wanted people to see him as a positive person, but you found it hard to wrap your head around how someone who went through all of that could be as positive as he had always appeared to be without having an episode like he was currently going through. It made perfect sense to you, and you felt like you understood Jaemin a lot more now. The final piece of the puzzle that was Jaemin fitting into place.

“I promise that I don’t go through phases like this often, and I don’t really have a trigger…it just randomly hits me, and I guess today was one of those days.” His hands rubbed up and down your back, his fingertips tracing circles in on your bare skin sending shivers through you.

“It wouldn’t matter to me if you went had phases like this all the time, I love you for you, depression included.” You laughed very softly, closing your eyes from how his heartbeat and your eyes, tired from cry, was making you feel sleepy. He let out a gentle laugh, his lips placing a firm kiss to your head. “Tell me in future, I’ll call in sick and we can spend the day as bed burritos together okay?”

“Bed burritos?” He raised an eyebrow in confusion, already feeling a flicker of positivity burning like a tiny flame inside the pit of negativity inside of him.

“Yeah, you were wrapped up in your duvet like a burrito. Bed burrito.” You yawned, totally relaxed with him now, a complete contrast to how you felt when you’d entered the room. Jaemin laughed again, the flicker inside of him growing again.

“Okay beautiful.” He moved a hand down to pat your butt affectionately and with no intention behind it. It was when you fell asleep on his chest, and he looked down at your peacefully sleeping face that he realised you were the woman he’d dreamt of every time he’d fantasied about his perfect future. The mysterious woman in all of his visions, the one walking down the aisle, the one holding his faceless children’s hands, the one growing old beside him, now having a face and a name.

---

Jaemin had never felt so nervous before in his entire life. And that was saying something, considering the rollercoaster of a life he’d lived. But even the nervousness of going to school, the nervousness of his first race, and his nervousness to lose his virginity couldn’t compared to this. But he’d made his mind up, and he was determined not to chicken out. ‘Chill out man, it’s not like you’re going to ask her to marry you, you’re only asking her if she wants to move in with you. You know she’ll say yes, so be chill.’ Jeno’s words rang through his head as he held you in his arms, swaying with you in the darkness of the night, the moon and the stars the only witnesses to his nerves since you hadn’t seemed to have caught on to his slightly tense body and shaky hands.

“Are you cold?” You spoke to softly Jaemin almost didn’t catch your words as you spoke them into his neck, your head tucked under his chin in your favourite spot. You felt so secure and loved when you snuggled into him like that, and he always pulled you to that position if he held you. “Your hands are shaking.” You could feel how his fingers were tapping against you from the way they shook, and even though you were enjoying your little slow dance under the moonlight, you’d prefer Jaemin didn’t catch a cold. The breeze was slow, and the air was warm, but you knew everyone reacted to temperature differently. Something you’d been made aware of working as a carer, most of your elderly clients feeling the cold a lot more than you and complaining about it despite the sweat you had on your forehead from being so hot.

“No, I’m okay…are you cold?” He glanced up at the sky, the moon being bright and easily visible through the clearing in the trees. This was the spot where he’d lost his virginity, and he loved to come here not only to relive that moment in his thoughts, but because it was peaceful and serene, nobody around to disturb the calm.

“I’m toasty.” You giggled, your arms wrapped around his neck as you snuggled into his warmth further, if it was even possible. He let out a quick laugh and then gently tugged you away from him, his eyes darting over your face quickly. You furrowed your eyebrows at how he was looking at you, about to ask him if he was feeling okay when he leaned in, catching your lips with his own. You closed your eyes, moving your lips slowly with his as his hand came up to stroke your cheek with so much delicacy you could hardly feel his feather light touch. He broke the kiss and whispered against your lips.

“Keep your eyes closed.” He took a step back from you and took a deep breath. You kept your eyes closed, slightly scared he was going to run away and make you play a sadistic game of hide and seek in a dark forest. But then you felt stupid because you knew Jaemin would never make you do that. You almost giggled to yourself from the thought when Jaemin spoke up again. “Okay so, I’ve waited for you for what feels like forever. And now that you’re in my life I know I never want to you leave again, and I want to wake up beside you every morning. You’ve brought so much joy and love I never knew I could feel from anyone other than my grandma,” He let out an awkward laugh after he said that, then carried on, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You’ve shown that you’ll support me through thick and thin these past six months and I’ve never been so sure of something before in my life as that I’m sure you’re the love of my life…Okay open your eyes.” When you opened them you were confused for a second, wondering when Jaemin became a magician and could disappear so fast when his voice was clearly in front of you. You had been told by Jeno a few days prior that Jaemin was going to ask you to move in with him, his excuse for telling you was ‘he’s going to be super nervous so if you’re going to say no then at least you can plan your way of letting him down gently.’ And you assumed this was his way of asking you to move in with him, expecting him to be holding a key when you opened your eyes, and you were definitely going to say yes. However, when your line of sight drifted down and your jaw almost hit the floor when you saw him down on one knee, a ring in a box in his hand and a nervous look on his face, not so expertly covered by a smile.

“Will you marry me?”

#nct #nct dream #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #trigger warning: mental health #trigger warning: talk of suicide #na jaemin #na Jaemin smut #na Jaemin angst #na Jaemin fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct blurbs #nct dream blurbs #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #na Jaemin x reader #Jaemin #nct series #nct dream series #nct street racer au #nct dream streetracer au #nct bad boy au #nct dream bad boy au #nct timestamps #nct dream timestamps

[jonesinghardy]

No More Spitting Feathers 02/?

PAIRINGS: Warren Worthington III x Reader  WARNINGS: injury, blood, implied drug use RATING: T+, will be raised later.  WORD COUNT: 2.2k INSTALLATIONS: Part 01 AUTHOR’S NOTE: Dedication and thanks to Andi @venombxby​ for discussion and honorary mentions to Monica @rosesvioletshardy​ and Wella for inspo. This is written in second person bc I have never been able to get on board with Y/N trends, and the reader is a mutant with a limited mix of healing, telekinesis and some empathic inclinations. 

The night is never as dark as you’d like in a city, and no matter the hour, night owls are bound to be turning their gaze onto anything that moves above the shadows. 

He casts quite a shadow. 

Dove.

You don’t speak much after he agrees to go with you. There is a stalemate between the two of you for many minutes before he offers an arm and helps you up, getting you to a more comfortable place in the warehouse to rest until you could stand on your own. 

You didn’t think he’d be able to fold his wings enough to hide them, you thought it would hurt too much, but he manages to do it anyway and tucks them away into a long coat that he found in the disused warehouse staffroom, along with a large umbrella that helps conceal him better.

Once you could stand you found a dusty bathroom with running water and managed to clean your arms and face of blood and wrangle your hair into something less dishevelled. You also took off all your absurd jewelry, cleaning it all with hot water and chucking it into the same locker you find a pair of shoes that are too big but are better than trying to walk barefoot. 

You get the privilege of draping his leather jacket over your shoulders, which doesn’t exactly keep you warm given the modifications he made to the back to accommodate his wings, but you suppose you’d be colder without it. 

You walk in silence side by side for most of the journey, and calling it such is no exaggeration. It only takes half an hour for the pain to creep into his wing again, especially with how he has them folded against his back— you feel it, and have to breathe through the discomfort, the one aspect of your powers that you can’t turn off, but that thankfully doesn’t wipe you out the same way healing or telekinesis does. 

It takes three hours, and neither of you seeks a break, somehow knowing that stopping would benefit neither of you. He gets more tired though, but you can tell he relaxes a bit when the city falls away and the trees thicken, and the people and cars become few and far between.

The safe house looks abandoned from the outside, and to your benefit, it has thick overgrowth around its perimeter that provides plenty of privacy. All of the windows are either frosted or boarded up save for the stained glass windows on the old domed church that will be your shelter. 

You find the key where you expect it, and as soon as you enter you’re working on autopilot. You throw off the shoes that have given you blisters, walk across the confused space to a large set of shelves and pick out a change of clothes that don’t quite fit but are better than the tiny cocktail dress you’ve had to trek your way here in. 

Dove throws off the coat and drops onto the nearest cot, groaning as he stretches out his wings. You shudder from the incomparable empathic impression it leaves in your back. You change without caring if he looks (he doesn’t), putting on the pants and a too-large shirt, collecting a blanket from a crate in the corner and yourself dropping onto a cot not too far from where he’d lain down. You pass out after you heal your blistered feet. 

You sleep for eighteen hours. 

He sleeps for twelve, and when he awakens he’s hungry and hungover, aching in unpleasant but not unfamiliar ways. You can feel the malaise even though it doesn’t wake you, creeping into your body and your dreams and then fading once he freely navigates the space and finds the food and water kept in the makeshift pantry. 

You feel better when you wake, but you’re ravenous, and dig into whatever shelf-stable item seems most appealing— you’re still chewing when you go and find him, having made himself a more private corner to relax in with cushions, two cot mattresses and a few blankets. 

Swallowing doesn’t quite soothe the scratch in your throat, and you notice some subtly floating feather particles in the air, leaving you to idly wonder how much he sheds. 

“Are you well enough to heal me now?” he asks, filling the silence. You’re not sure if he believes you are, he seems tired and resigned.

“No,” you reply. “Not significantly anyway.”

He levels you with an incredulous look. 

You sigh. “I could give myself an aneurysm if I try to heal you too fast.” 

“What can you do, then?” 

“I could have you flying again in ten days,” you say, “that won’t put too much strain on me.” 

His wing, the undamaged one, flutters slightly. “Fourteen.”

“What?”

“Take fourteen days. You were like a rag doll at the warehouse, Häschen, you’re no use to me like that. You think you can do ten days— I don’t have anywhere to be— we’ll do fourteen.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to spot some ulterior motive and figure he must be doing the same. 

“Okay, alright. Two weeks.” That’s probably how long you’ll need to arrange extraction anyway. 

You swallow again against the scratch in your throat and take a deep breath. 

“You need a tour?” you ask, feeling awkward. 

He shakes his head. “I looked around while you were sleeping.” 

“The church is free-reign,” you say, explaining anyway, “the rest of the building is not really safe, but isn’t off-limits.” You shrug. “The shower room is over there.” You point. “Towels and soap are in the baskets… they’re all labelled.” 

“You planning to leave me alone here, Häschen?” he asks, sitting forward slightly and canting his head to the side. 

You both react when he strains his wing, and you try to hide your whimper with a cough. His wings shudder and the feathers tighten up, drooping slightly as he sits back against the wall with a slight grunt of pain.

“I want to get some supplies from the store… like better food,” you explain with a shrug. You also want to get him some medicine to tide him over between your attempts to heal him. 

“Are you going to walk?” 

You shake your head. “There’s a car stored on the property, I have what I need. I shouldn’t be more than forty minutes.”

He doesn’t say anything further, and it feels too invasive to watch him struggle through his pain.

“You want anything?” you ask, already planning to get him some clothes. 

“No.”

“Okay. What clothing sizes do you wear?” 

The look he gives you is almost a smirk, a raised brow and a quirk of his lip that makes you flush. You look away in embarrassment and clear your throat again. 

He tells you the sizes. “You don’t like my clothes?” he asks. 

“That’s— that’s not the point,” you say, and motion at him, his pants and boots, the lack of a shirt, the modified leather jacket he’d taken back while you slept. “That’s all you have.”

He shrugs with his hands. “Do what you want.”

“I will.”

“See you in an hour, then.” He seems inclined to give you more time than you think you’ll need.

— 

The subtle hiss and splash of water greet your ears from across the echoey safe house when you return. You took less than the hour, but more than the forty minutes to get everything done. You put the bags down on the tables that make up the kitchen (which isn’t much of a kitchen at all. There is an old fridge, two hot plates, a toaster oven and some cookware and dishes next to a deep industrial sink).

There is steam coming from the shower room, and when you get closer with the bag of clothes you got for him, you feel a malaise creep into your body. 

“Dove?” you call, but he doesn’t answer.

You put down the bag and go to the door, not sure what you’ll find, but hardly wanting to violate his privacy nor open yourself up to any teasing if you’ve misinterpreted the empathic impression. 

A small gasp leaves your lips. His wings are almost totally clean now, free of the dirt and char and blood that had been caked on them— some of which sits over the drain grate to his right. Feathers are missing from his left wing, and it continues to droop, but what concerns you is how he’s kneeling on the floor with his head against the wall, taking in shuddering breaths. The wings hide his nakedness almost completely, but that hardly crosses your mind as you step into the room.

“Dove?” you say again, more urgently now, your new shoes splashing on the wet floor as you cross over to him. 

It’s a rather bare room, stripped of all curtains and half-stalls, with only a dozen showerheads set a few feet apart around the space. He has two showers running to cover all of him, and you gasp when you feel how hot the water is, yanking the tap to the left to make it cold and then reaching over him to do the same to the other. 

“What are you doing!” your voice is louder than you intend, and he tenses, groaning when cold water penetrates whatever daze he was in. You get down on one knee and grab his face between your hands. He’s hot hot hot, and not just from the water, flushed. He startles, wings jerking and feathers fluffing, and he gives a slight grunt of alarm.

“Hey, hey, it’s me— it’s just me.” 

He doesn’t quite relax but he seems to calm, bowing his head slightly and shivering. You carefully reach up to turn off both showers and bring your hand to his neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus through the haze and urgency. 

“What are you doing…” he says dully, lifting a hand to grasp your forearm. He groans when he feels the initial relief of your healing. “Don’t, you’re not— I’ll be fine—”

“I can handle it, you’re not well,” you reply, almost scolding. He makes a sound of acknowledgement but speaks no further, he keeps his hand on your arm. 

You don’t find what you’re looking for, you assumed it would be an infection from the fracture, but his whole nervous system is rioting. You quickly readjust, your fingers pressing against his neck, by the nape. It’s not the healing you expected him to need, but you hadn’t exactly gotten the chance to examine him and come up with a plan. Your healing balances his autonomic nervous system, calming the sympathetic and re-engaging the parasympathetic. He’d need more help than that, you can tell, but easing his distress is your primary goal. 

A drop of blood hits the floor, and his hand squeezes your arm. Your nose is bleeding.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice much more controlled now.

“I’m alright,” you assure him, “I know my limits, I can do a bit more…” You aren’t lying but you know how far you can push yourself before you get as bad as you were last night. You can do more now that you’re touching him too, that always makes you more precise.

His breathing even outs and his heart rate calm, and his head bows in relief after another long moment. Your bloody nose gets worse, but you set him up better this time, stimulating his immune system and provoking a healing response throughout his body, natural pain relief. It would help his body help itself until you could resume your efforts tomorrow. 

You move your hand away from his neck and move it to under your nose. The leg of your pants is wet when you stand, and you turn away but he gives your arm a little tug, making you look back down at him. His face isn’t as flushed now, and there’s a different kind of pain in his eyes, something non-physical. Something like guilt. 

“I didn’t deserve that,” he says gravely. You slowly pull your hand away. 

“You were in distress, I wasn’t going to leave you like that.” 

His wings twitch, ruffling carefully. “Some pain deserves to be felt,” he argues weakly. “Especially for something of my own doing.”

“Withdrawal isn’t a penance, Dove.” When he meets your gaze, you think he might be searching for judgement, but he won’t find any. He looks away.

“It’s an unfair strain on you.”

You turn away, still holding your bloody nose. “I can’t just pick and choose what I heal. If you’re sick I can’t fix your wing effectively.” You huff, turning away. “And I’m fine. It’s not as draining when I can touch you… I left you some clothes by the door. If you really don’t want to waste my efforts, you’d better get some rest. Your body can do the work itself until tomorrow.”

You start out of the room deliberately, shoesfalls splashing wetly. As you pass the threshold, the echoey walls of the shower room amplify his quiet words just enough for you to hear.

“Thank you.”

You keep going without acknowledging it.

#warren worthington x reader #warren worthington x you #warren worthington iii #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #warren fic. #warren x reader. #my fic.

[mandakatt]

Kitty Cursed - Part 4 Cat-astasis - Ignis x Reader

A/N: I have no excuse as to why this took me so long. =p  Each of the boys will have their own part. 

I’ll put the links to the other boys I’ve done already below!

Characters: Ignis x Reader [Gender Neutral] Warnings: None Word Count: 1019 Summary: You’ve been inflicted with a strange status ailment that has turned you into a cat. Immediately you seek out your soulmate to help you out with your little predicament, but you forgot one, small....TINY little detail. He’s allergic to cats!

[ Dino | Prompto | Gladio ]

“Well now, that could have gone better.”

Ignis huffed at himself as he let off a deep sigh, pushing his glasses back up on his nose with his finger. “Now then, I suggest we--Darling?” Panic immediately settled in his gut as he looked around frantically for you. “Darling?!” he called a little louder before he paused when he heard a soft, almost dejected mewl.

“Darling?”

Hanging your head a little you slowly padded your way out from behind the rather large rock that had hidden you from view, before sitting down on your haunches with a soft almost dejected huff. Slowly you lifted your eyes to look up at him, only to splay your ears out sideways when Ignis made a soft noise and brought his hand up to his face, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger. You’d made a mistake apparently, and gotten too close to something and now you found yourself in rather an interesting predicament, and you weren’t sure exactly what you were going to do. 

“Darling, is...is that you?”

You mewled softly in reply, and again let your head hang a little. 

“Are you alright otherwise? You are not injured?”

Shaking out your entire coat you mewled softly again, as if to tell him no.

“Ah, well that does make my heart lighter to hear it. Now then, come here.” and he quickly moved close and scooped you up into his arms. You mewled loudly in complaint; well more from surprise really and pushed your paws against his chest. Mewling again you squirmed, trying to push your paws harder against him and twist out of his grasp only to grunt in surprise when he gently grasped the scruff of your neck to hold you still. 

“Do not move so much my Darling, I would rather keep you close. I will be--” and he paused a moment, and had this very strange expression wash over his face. 

Mewling softly in curiosity you turned your head to look up at him, as much as you were able to anyway as he still had a gentle grasp on your scruff, and your ears perked forwards, wondering just what--

“HEEEECKSHEW!”

You fluffed up in surprise at the loud noise only to screw your eyes shut. Slowly you opened your eyes again when you heard him sniffle, and you let off this soft, almost indignant growl at him as your ears turned against your head. 

He’d sneezed on you. Of all the--!

“Pardon me my Darling, that one caught me by utter--” he sniffled a bit and shook his head. “--utter surprise. Let me retrieve your clothing, and then we will--” he sniffled again and paused, before he pulled you down flush against his chest and sneezed again, and you fluffed up a little as it echoed loudly off the walls of the cave the two of you had found yourself in.

Growling at him softly you gently pushed your paws against his chest, flexing your paws a little to just barely prick him with your claws in want of him putting you down. 

“Darling please--sniffle--do mind your claws will you? I do not mind in the slightest carrying you out of this blasted cave. Just allow me to--HECKSHEW!” he held you firm against his chest again as he turned his head to sneeze, though this time his glasses almost fell off his face. 

You mewled in complaint and pushed again. 

Why was he sneezing so much?

“Darling please, it was my fau--aa--sniffle--my fault that we found ourselves in such a predicament. Do let me make it up to you by at least ensuring your safety.” he paused for a moment to push his glasses back where they belonged then moved to your clothing. He swiftly crouched down to pick them up, and drape them gently over his arm. “Besides, I do believe I have an--nnghkgk--enough allergy pills in the Regalia to choke a Catoblepas, for as much as Gladio eats them li-liiii---HECKSHEW--astrals!--sniffle--as much as Gladio eats them like candy. I will be fine and will take some upon our arrival.”

With a soft huff you simply relaxed in his hold a little as a soft purr rumbled from your chest. It was cut short more from your surprise than anything before you lifted your head to look up at him, then mewled softly in concern. Ignis’ eyes were rimmed red and watering, and he scrunched his nose a little as if it itches...and then it struck you as to why.

Oh astrals! He was allergic!

….well that explained his weird ways of riding the chocobos you supposed.

You mewled again, and squirmed causing him to pause once more. “I am f--fff---HEEEECKSHEW!--ugh--I am fine my Darling. I am perfectly content to suffer a minor inconvenience to ensure your saa---saafff--” he paused, stopping dead in his trek back toward the entrance to the cave. He suddenly held you firm against his chest as he bent over with his sneeze. “HEEECKKSHEW!” and there was the sound of something softly clattering to the stone floor. 

“Blast it…!” Ignis sniffled as he stood upright, giving off a bit of a groan as he reached up to his face, only to blink. “....fuck.”

Giving off a loud burble of curiosity you looked up at him, only to mewl in surprise.

“Yes, I swore, do not give me that look.” Ignis sniffled again then crouched down, fumbling a little for his glasses as he did not wish to drop you, or your clothing. Though he huffed at you when you looked a little bit smug. 

“I suppose losing my glasses for a moment is what I get for sneezing on you, isn’t it?”

With a quiet purr you finally settled in against his chest, tail flicking slowly and lazily as you imagined how Prompto and Noctis were going to tease him to no end when you told them what happened when he first picked you up.

“Come on then my Darling...let us g--ggghn-- sniffle --let us get back to the Regalia. We’ll have quite the story to tell.”

#Meraki #Ignis Scientia #Ignis Scientia x Reader #Ignis x Reader #Gender Neutral Reader #Reader Insert #Self Insert #Allergy #Sic fic #kinda #many sneebs #Reader got caught underfire #Ignis is mortified