#love the idea she has mushrooms growing on top of her head

[sunshineandviolets]

Dryad MC: Tulsi (she/her) for @parkerlyn's nameless

A warm & welcoming person tending to be friendly.

Has found that charming, honeyed words are more effective.

Tries to convey thoughts in a genuine manner.

Is known to be quite forward & extroverted.

Lastly, found herself drawn to a certain healer...

#the nameless #sheevra mc #oc moodboard #interactive fiction #dryad #dryad aesthetic #sheevra: tulsi #turns out trying to make a moodboard for sheevras is actually hella hard #but i think it came out alright heh #also figuring out what kinda of flora Tulsi has #love the idea she has mushrooms growing on top of her head #and in her hair and horns - has vines and leaves tangled within #rest of the flora being very white pink n light yellow colours #and obvs shades of green too #its funny - cause even before reading the story... i already had an idea of who exactly i was gonna romance first #esp looking at the art n asks #what can i say - im predictable lol #i do wanna make a moodboard for Kalin next! #just need to figure out the vibe for them heh

[lurinatftbn]

If you’re down to answer another question like the music one, what are the characters’ favorite in-universe cuisines/culinary preferences? Or, are there any fun reasons why some characters like/dislike certain things as we see in the glossary?

Off the top of my head:

Utsu dislikes fish because it's ubiquitous in Itan cuisine and had a lot of it served to her poorly-prepared as a kid. I think it comes up in the text at some point, but her favorite food is layered pasta dishes like lasagna. (I know what you're thinking, and no, I didn't do it on purpose.)

Kam is a vegan, but obviously only for health reasons since they don't slaughter animals for meat in the setting. She likes very spicy food like chilis and curry - her favorite is stuffed jalapenos. She also likes crepes.

Ran also kinda likes spicy food, but isn't super passionate about cuisine and mostly just goes for low-effort stuff. She eats a lot of stir fry and dumplings.

Theo also worries about his longer-term health which is why he's on a low-carb diet, but renders this pointless by eating tons of chocolate and sweets all the time. He likes hot fudge cakes the best.

Ptolema just really likes meat. Her favorite is just a really well-seasoned blue steak, probably with blue cheese, and she also probably really enjoys whatever the equivalent of brazilian barbecue is.

I don't think I ever decided what foods Seth likes best except that he eats a lot of junk food. I do remember deciding at some point that he really likes almonds despite being allergic to them.

Ophelia is a pescetarian for cultural reasons. Beyond that, she loves trying all sorts of foods, though shellfish and mushrooms are her favorite ingredients.

Lilith is a hyper-picky eater and doesn't like most vegetables or anything too complicated or mixed together. She probably most enjoys very simple things like chicken nuggets, and only takes small bites so she isn't overwhelmed.

As comes up in the story, Bardiya is a recovering alcoholic, which is the reason for his preference note. I think I put somewhere that kebabs are his favorite food.

Ezekiel dislikes onions because of their slimy and crunchy texture. He likes really straightforward food like Sunday roasts, which in-setting would mean he prefers Rhunbardic cuisine, though he'd never admit it.

Fang will eat anything under the sun, but also doesn't care that much about food in the grand scheme of things. Left to their own devices, they will cook everything into some kind of omelette and think it's great.

Linos doesn't like shellfish because, like Su, he ate a lot of it prepared badly when he was young. He enjoys participating in prestige/fine dining, especially for Ysaran and Viraaki food, more for the sense of being part of a cultural moment than the actual flavor.

Neferuaten likes foods like beyaynetu (or, like, pizza) designed specifically to be eaten communally. On her own she mostly just eats salad, though she has extremely specific opinions about wine and whiskey.

Durvasa likes to grow and preserve his own food, and his favorite is dal soup. He also has extremely specific opinions, though only about whiskey. He doesn't like red meat because he dislikes the idea that he's eating the flesh of a one-living being, even if it's replicated.

Zeno technically does not have a diet, and is sustained nutritionally by other means. He enjoys the taste of very indulgent foods like foie gras and controversial food like cultured human meat. He thinks Viraaki food is 'stinky' and 'greasy'.

Hamilcar does not eat except with company, which is why his entry says N/A. He can't taste food in the way he could when he was young, and he finds it upsetting.

Anna enjoys sushi, but is too old to eat much at all.

Mehit theoretically likes the kind of high-concept Saoic cuisine described by Ran early in the story, but is not a very good cook, so mostly eats things like baked potatoes and fried rice. This is partly why Lilith is the way she is, but only like, 20%.

Balthazar skips breakfast because otherwise he ends up overeating, since he's the type who can just keep going long beyond what's healthy. He's the sort of person who enjoys bizarre high-calorie flavors like fried squid dipped in ice cream.

#asks

[i-choose-the-danger]

Creature Comforts

Finally able to post today! Fitting that I get it typed up on Eddie Redmayne's birthday too. 🥰I had this idea in my head after writing my last fic and referring to it in the dialogue, and it kept nagging at me and growing bigger and bigger. It just made sense to turn it into a fic of its own. So this fic is about something that was referenced in this fic, if you want to read that first. Only one big note here - what I've written is based off my own personal headcanon for these characters. We don't really know much about Newt's and Theseus's childhoods. We're still unsure about Theseus's *actual* birthday, but I feel that in 1904 (when I have the fic taking place), Theseus would be finishing his 6th year at Hogwarts and Newt would be seven years old. And for Newt, the way he is and his childhood are personally important to me, so I ask that you be kind and respect that. Everyone has their own headcanons and these are mine. Thank you. <3 I really do love these boys and I hope we get to see more of them together in the next film. Fic below the cut. :)

It was a warm June day in the English countryside. All was quiet in the Scamander home, mostly due to the fact that a very young Newt was home alone with his mother and that his older brother Theseus wouldn't be returning from Hogwarts for the summer until later in the evening. Newt had been spending the day helping his mother with chores around the house.

"Here you are, little Ruffles," Newt announced, walking towards the small hippogriff enclosure in his family's backyard as slowly as possible. He was carrying a bowl almost as big as himself and trying not to spill any water from it. "It's very warm out here and Mummy says you have to... to stay, um... hydrated." He set the bowl down on the ground and bowed before the young hippogriff, quietly waiting. He was nervous, but tried not to tense his muscles. A few seconds later, Ruffles mirrored Newt and bowed its head. Newt sighed in relief and slowly raised a hand, resting his palm on the creature's head and brushing his little fingers back through its feathers as it bent down to drink.

"Wonderful," Newt's mother observed from behind him.

"She let me pet her!" Newt beamed. He had been trying since the hippogriff's birth to gain its trust. His mother had been teaching him about hippogriffs and how important it is to establish such a bond with creatures in one's care.

Newt was only seven years old, too young to yet attend Hogwarts, but interested in all of the creatures his mother cared for and he constantly asked her to teach him anything she could. Newt wasn't like most children his age. He was very quiet and kept to himself. The only time he would open up was when watching his mother care for the hippogriffs she bred or when she was tending her garden. He would often follow her and try to help with anything she would allow.

"She trusts you now. I'm proud of you, sweetheart." Newt's mother carded her fingers through her son's messy auburn curls, lightly patting the top of his head. "I need you to take this basket and feed these to the gnomes over the wall, hmm? Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that, Mummy." Newt picked up a wicker basket full of things his mother had pulled up from her garden and toddled off to the other side of the backyard in a hurry.

"That's my sweet boy," she sighed.

Newt had always enjoyed feeding the gnomes, but never understood what he was feeding them. His mother said that the things she pulled from her garden were called horklumps. They looked like an odd species of mushroom. She said that they weren't important and their only purpose was keeping the gnomes from digging holes throughout the backyard. Newt threw most of them over the wall to a few gnomes who had dug holes behind one of the oak trees, but he stared down at the few horklumps left in the basket. He shuffled one of his feet, digging his heel into the dirt. Mummy doesn't need these. It should be okay if I take a few to my room and look at them, he thought. Newt took the basket of remaining horklumps into the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mum! I'm home!" Theseus called out as he pulled his trunk through the fence gate into the backyard, a broom in his other hand and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

"You're early, dear! I thought you said the quidditch team was going to get together after you got back to the station."

"That was the plan, but McCoy did poorly on his O.W.L.s and his parents wouldn't let him come out. We didn't feel right being without him."

"Oh, that's too bad. Maybe he should study with you next year for your N.E.W.T.s."

"Speaking of Newts, I thought he would be out here with you. Where is he?"

"I asked him to take all of the horklumps I pulled up and toss them to the gnomes over the wall."

"What on earth for?" Theseus wondered.

"Waste not. If you have the patience and the time, you can learn to coexist with almost any creature." Mrs. Scamander tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear and continued to till her small garden. "Besides, it keeps those little monsters from digging up my roses. They know they'll get food from me if they stay away."

"He must've gone inside to clean up. Can I leave this with you while I find him?" Theseus lifted the satchel from his shoulder and handled it gently as he held it out towards his mother.

"Is that what we discussed the other day?" Theseus's mother brushed her hands against her apron to remove the dirt from them before holding them out. "Give it here. I'll keep it safe for you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Newt had spent the past hour or so sketching and writing in his notebooks. He was seated on the floor in the center of his bedroom, his legs crossed and his socked feet flexing. Charcoal was smudged on his hands and wrists. A handful of horklumps sat in a pile in front of the child on the floor by one of his knees. They looked like large pink mushrooms, but they were covered in hard black hairs and had root-like tentacles. Newt's mother had told him they were nothing more than weeds in her garden, but he was fascinated with how they grew and his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"You're not a 'shroom," he mumbled to himself. Newt stuck out his tongue and bit down on it lightly as he concentrated on sketching in his notebook. He looked at the tentacles poking out from the bottom of a horklump stalk. "These are little legs like ones on grin-, on grindee... Grindylows." He picked up one of the horklumps he had begun to dissect and held it close to his face. He grazed a finger over the coarse hair of its stalk. "Ow. It feels like brushes." The hard bristles were shedding from the small creature as he touched it. Newt was so focused on jotting down notes in his book that he didn't hear his door open.

"There you are. Didn't you hear me ca-" Theseus looked around the room. There were dissected horklump pieces strewn across the floor with Newt's notebooks. Garden dirt, charcoal, and the horklumps' spiny bristles were on some of Theseus's belongings, including his bed. "What is this mess?!"

"You're home early!" Newt yelped.

"Everything is covered in dirt and hair!" Theseus could feel himself getting more aggravated no matter where he looked.

"I was studying them." Newt blinked hard and looked up at Theseus. "I was going to clean it, soon as I finished!" Newt panicked and scrambled to bring himself into a kneeling position as he closed his sketchbook and threw his charcoal and quill into a small box of art supplies that he kept under his bed.

"And how exactly did you plan on cleaning all of this? Even the most complex scouring charm couldn't get this caked-in dirt out of my sheets!" Theseus tried swatting the dirt off of one of his blankets, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry! I'll clean it all up right now." Newt pressed his palms to his ears, trying to concentrate on where to start cleaning before Theseus could raise his voice again.

"Oh no, wait. Newt..." Theseus's tone was calm. He realized that his knee-jerk reaction was a bit too harsh towards his younger brother and he felt awful for reacting the way he did. "Newt, stop. Come here." Theseus crouched down to the floor and shifted his weight so that he was kneeling to match his brother's height. "It's alright. I'm not angry."

"I don't believe you. Your face is angry. And you were loud," Newt muttered, looking up at his brother through the unruly curls that had fallen in front of his eyes as he cast his head down. He blinked and stared back down at his socks. One of his thumbs clawed absentmindedly at his pants pocket. "I didn't mean to make a mess."

"I know. I'm sorry that I yelled." Theseus held his arms out towards Newt and sighed. "Please, come here," he added, stretching out his fingers. The corners of his mouth turned up as Newt cautiously stepped towards him. Once Newt was within reach, Theseus wrapped him in a tight hug. Newt didn't reciprocate the gesture, but simply stood still with his arms at his sides and let Theseus continue to hold him. "I'm sorry for yelling. I promise that I'm not angry." Theseus heard a small sniffle come from his little brother and his heart sank. He pulled back from the hug and flashed the cheesiest smile he could muster. "My face isn't angry either, see?"

"Not now. It doesn't have the big wrinkles anymore," Newt pointed out, tracing a finger across his brother's forehead.

"Wrinkles?! Hmmph!" Theseus rolled his eyes and let Newt go, crossing his arms. "I know how I can make up for upsetting you. How about I introduce you to a new creature? One I know you've never met before."

"A new one?" Newt's eyes lit up like stars. He pursed his lips and bounced with nervous energy. "You mean it?"

"Mmhmm. It's fun, and it's cuddly, and it's not dangerous, and it loves to make people smile."

"Why haven't I seen it before?" The child was very intrigued, yet cautious.

"Um, er, Mum might have just thought you weren't ready to meet one, but I think it's okay for me to show one to you now."

"Where is it? What is it called? Where did you find it?" Newt kept leaning from side to side, trying to see where his brother might be hiding such a wonderful surprise.

"Oh it's right here." Theseus chuckled to himself as Newt looked around. "It's called... a tickle monster." Theseus bent forward to wrap his arms around his little brother again, but Newt was too quick and jumped back, leaving Theseus to faceplant into the floor with a loud thud. "OOF!"

"Uh-oh!" Newt sprinted out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him, a panicked giggle escaping his lips as he padded down the hallway looking for a place to hide.

"You little... come back here!" Theseus pushed himself to stand and brushed some dust off the knees of his pants. "You can't escape the tickle monster. I know all of your little hiding spots!"

Theseus searched room by room, checking all of the places Newt would hide himself when he needed to be alone or when he was upset. He glanced over at the linen closet in the laundry room and smiled knowingly. Its door was open just the slightest bit. Newt would often tuck himself away in there when playing hide-and-seek with their mother. He'd never close the door all the way because he was still quite uncomfortable in the dark.

"Now where could that little brother of mine be?" Theseus wondered aloud. He pulled open a desk drawer. "Hmm, no. Not here." He shook out a blanket that had been laid over the back of a chair. "Nope." He lifted the cushion from the same chair. "Not under here either. I guess you're too smart for me." Theseus crept by a small cabinet and turned toward the linen closet. With a gentle hand, he grabbed the door, waited, and then flung it wide open. "AHA! Now I've got...you?" His expression fell. The bottom of the closet was empty. "Newt?" Theseus stepped into the closet and bent over to check behind a pile of bed sheets, not hearing the slight squeak of the cabinet door just behind him. Before he could straighten back up, the closet door swung and smacked against his bum, knocking him off balance and face-first into the stack of sheets. He could hear tiny footsteps dashing away. "You have got to be kidding me," he mumbled, his face still smooshed in the sheets.

Theseus doubled back to their bedroom just in case Newt had retreated back to where he felt safest. As he reached the doorway, he heard the staircase creak followed by a small gasp. He continued into the bedroom without turning to look back, knowing that Newt was heading downstairs. Theseus very rarely managed to get his brother to come out of his shell and be playful, so he was in no rush to end this game of hide-and-seek so soon.

"Need to hide. Need to hide," Newt repeated to himself frantically, eyes darting around as he tried to think of a spot that would be safe. He linked his thumbs into the pockets of his pants and pulled on them a few times to calm himself. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach was making him shift his weight back and forth from one leg to the other.

"I'm going to find you, little brother," Theseus called out in a sing-song voice as he started to descend the staircase.

"Oh no!" Newt quietly gasped to himself. He would never make it to the kitchen in time to run out the back door without Theseus seeing him and catching him. Luckily, Newt was thin and agile enough that he was able to quickly duck and dart under the dining table. He peeked out underneath the tablecloth to see Theseus's shoes only a few inches away from his hiding spot. Newt's hands flew to cover his mouth to suppress the sudden nervous urge he had to giggle.

"Brother mine, where could you have gone?" Theseus walked around the dining table and stood still for a moment, noticing a chair slightly out of place. He bent down just enough to be able to see exactly where Newt was hiding. He could have ended this chase right then, but couldn't help dragging the game out just a few minutes longer. "Well, he's too young to apparate, so he couldn't have vanished into thin air. I wonder if he went outside." Theseus headed into the kitchen and hid himself against the door frame to wait.

"Whew," Newt whispered. He carefully crawled over the bottom rungs of the chair in front of him and out from under the table. He had no idea that his brother was watching from the kitchen... or that he was now sneaking up behind him.

"Gotcha!" Theseus crowed, wrapping his arms around Newt's waist and scooping him into the air. Newt was already squirming and giggling before Theseus had even done anything. "And where do you think you're going, hmm? All this wriggly giggly nonsense won't save you from the tickle monster."

"No no no no no! You lied to me! That's... that's not a real creature! It doesn't count!" Newt continued to squirm in his brother's arms in hopes of slipping through and running for cover.

"Oh I can assure you that the tickle monster is very real. If it wasn't, could it do this?" Theseus's arms were long enough that he was able to hold Newt in a hug from behind and have his hands reach Newt's ribs on the opposite sides. The very second his fingers scrunched into Newt's sides, the child squealed and let out the wildest string of giggles Theseus had ever heard in his entire life.

"Thee-hee-hee-hee-heeseus!" No matter how hard Newt tried to free himself, his brother's arms were too strong. "You and your dumb hugger arms! Let me gohohohohoho!"

"You dirty up the whole bedroom, knock me down in the closet, and now you insult my hugging? That's it." Theseus walked into the den towards the couch, never pausing his attack as Newt continued to squeal and thrash about in protest in his arms. Theseus even blew a few raspberries against the side of Newt's neck, causing the child to squeak and squirm through more laughter. He dropped Newt onto the cushions and sat beside him, allowing them both a minute to catch their breath. Almost immediately, Newt scrambled to roll off the couch to safety. "Oh, no you don't!" Theseus spidered his fingers up Newt's ribcage and under his arms, which Newt immediately clamped down at his sides as he laughed harder. Theseus tried to pull his hands out, but Newt had them pinned in a vice-like grip under his arms. "If you're going to trap the tickle monster here, then it'll just have to claw its way free," Theseus sighed. The elder brother curled his fingers into claw shapes and scratched at the hollows under his captive's arms.

Newt shrieked.

"What in the name of Merlin..." Mrs. Scamander called from the kitchen.

"Mummy! He-he-he-he-he-help!" Newt curled himself into a ball and continued to squeal and laugh as Theseus poked and scribbled his fingers over every vulnerable spot he could find.

"I could hear the commotion from all the way outside. I thought someone was dying," their mother joked.

"I a-ha-ha-ha-ha-ham!" her youngest son shouted through his laughter. At this point, he had completely lost control of his limbs and flailed about on the couch trying to fend off his brother's assault. "He-he-he-he-he's trying to kill meeee!" Another high-pitched squeal left Newt's lips before his laughter started to go silent.

"So dramatic!" Theseus huffed. He gave Newt's ribs a few more quick pokes before helping him sit up and pulling him back against his chest. Newt collapsed into him and let his limbs go limp. "See? Very much alive."

"Barely so," Newt choked out through residual giggles. His chest was still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He grabbed the hem of his shirt in his fists, rubbing them over his ribs to sooth away the tingly feeling that still lingered. "You're a rubbish big brother," Newt added sternly, even though it was with a smile as he curled back into a ball on his side.

"Ouch!" Theseus put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I did bring home something for you though. I thought you would be old enough to have a pet to take care of so you'd stop destroying our room like the little tornado you are," he added, lightly mussing Newt's hair to emphasize his cyclonic nature.

"If you really did, then where is it?" Newt asked, still resting against Theseus's chest.

"I've got her right here. I kept her safe while you two were playing." Mrs. Scamander put her hands into the large pocket in the front of her apron and cradled something small as she pulled them back out. "She's a puffskein."

Newt's eyes widened like little hazel saucers and he instantly sat upright. His mother was holding what looked like a small ball of blue fur barely bigger than a quidditch snitch.

"She's beauuuutiful. May I hold her?" Newt whispered. He loosely held nervous fists up near his chin and waited for permission.

"If you're very careful. She's just a baby. Cup your hands like this." Mrs. Scamander held out her hands next to Newt's, still cradling the puffskein, and gently urged it to waddle over into his waiting hands. It took a few steps and settled into his palms with a soft coo. He instinctively cupped one hand behind the small creature to keep it from falling. "Just like that. She needs to feel safe."

"Oooooh." Newt held the puffskein against his chest and repeatedly brushed the fingers of his free hand over her fur. "She's so soft."

"She reminded me of that fuzzy blue blanket you hold all the time, so I thought you'd like her." Theseus reached out and scratched the puffskein's head with his index finger.

"She's perfect. Thank you." Newt continued happily petting the puffskein, never looking away from her. He found the continuous touch of her fur brushing the pads of his fingers to be very soothing. "What's her name?"

"She doesn't have one yet. I thought you should name her since she's yours now," Theseus replied.

"Hmm..." Newt held his new pet out and looked her over. "She looks like a big blue eye. I'll call her Iris." The puffskein cooed.

"I think she likes it. If you stay still, she likes to perch herself here," Theseus told him. He took Iris into his hands and set her down on one of Newt's shoulders. "Just be careful. She has a long little tongue and if you're not watching, she'll take your bogeys right out of your nose," he whispered, pinching Newt's nose between two of his knuckles.

"Theseus! That's disgusting!" his mother scolded. Newt instantly covered his nose with one of his hands, horrified at the thought.

"It's true though! It's the first place they look if they can't find food," Theseus added.

Iris started to purr, cuddled against Newt's cheek. As the intensity of her purr increased, she started to vibrate and her fur buzzed against his neck. Newt scrunched his shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut as he squeaked out a surprise laugh.

"It looks like you have a new little tickle monster," Theseus joked.

"Noooo! I should send a tickle monster after you," Newt replied, still scrunching his neck. He cupped a hand around Iris and guided her to walk down his chest far enough for him to take her in both hands and hold her in his lap.

"Please. Tickle monsters don't bother me," Theseus replied in a huff.

"I guess your brother never told you about when he first met the tickle monster, hmm?" Mrs. Scamander stood at the end of the couch with her hands on her hips and a knowing smirk.

"Wait, what?" Theseus all of a sudden felt very anxious.

"Uh-oh..." Newt protectively cuddled his new pet and scooted away from his brother on the couch.

"Oh yes. When Theseus was your age, sometimes he would be so rambunctious that the only thing that could tire him out was a visit from the tickle monster." Mrs. Scamander was now standing behind Theseus as Newt giggled to himself watching them with wide eyes.

"Mum, what are you... Mum, NO!" Theseus curled in on himself and tried to shield his sides as his mother proceeded to tickle him to pieces.

Newt had never heard Theseus laugh so hard or seen him lose composure so quickly. He had also never felt more at ease simply sitting there with a new pet to care for and study. At that moment, Newt could think of nothing else he would make him happier.

#fanfic #tickle fic #Fantastic Beasts #Newt Scamander #Theseus Scamander #ticklish!Newt #ticklish!Theseus

[rosietimesforever4fun]

QSMP Eggs as hatched!!

I like feathered/furred dragons so that is what these babies are

Since this is based on my Eggs hatching fic (which I haven't written nor put my ideas down on this blog yet) some of them are smaller that they would've been. Though not by much.

I used Google to translate inches to meters so if something sounds really off that is why

I wanted some to be the size of grown adults and others to be the size of children 

Also they are now mostly quadrupedal but are able to be bipedal.

More natural to be on all fours though 

So here they are!

Chayanne:

Yellow/Blonde like a duckling.

Green eyes

Forever small pointy horns

Head to tail he is 4ft 4in long or 1.32 meters

Ground to the top of the head he is 3ft 7in or 1.09 meters 

Nothing is wrong with him, just naturally small

He no longer wears his duck floating :( it no longer fits. He wears a duck necklace now!

Dapper:

Black fur/feathers with just white on his nose. 

Orange eyes 

Small horns. Will be like and Impala's antlers 

Head to tail he is 5ft 6in long or 1.68 meters

Ground to head he is 5ft or 1.52 meters

Still wears a top hat. Also is wearing red armbands now

Ramón 

Tuxedo pattern of Fur/Feathers. Black and White Feathers/Fur. 

Orange eyes

Small horns. Will be like a Impala's antlers 

Head to tail is 5ft 5in long or 1.65 meters 

Ground to head he is 5ft or 1.52 meters 

The mustache still exists and he is wearing matching arm bands with Dapper

Leo 

Brown feathers/fur with blond tipped (gold) wings. 

Purple eyes.

Snall Twisty horns

Head to tail she is 4ft 8in long or 1.42 meters 

Ground to head they're 4ft or 1.22 meters 

Still wearing the cap but is also now wearing a mushroom choker.

Tilín 

Black fur/feathers with grey tips. 

Brown eyes.

Medium straight horns

Head to tail she is 4ft long or 1.22 meters 

Ground to head they are 3ft 9in or 1.14 meters 

Still is wearing the bow. Also is wearing ribbons on his arms

Tallulah 

Brown feathers and fur with white tipped tails and front legs. 

Green eyes.

Has medium horns that are just straight up and down

Head to tail she is 6ft long or 1.83 meters 

Ground to head she is 5ft or 1.52 meters

Wearing the beanie and a matching ribbon choker 

Juanaflippa 

Dark Green fur/feathers with white tips. 

Dark brown eyes (black?)

No horns and never will

Head to tail she is 3ft 10in long or 1.17 meters

Ground to head she is 3ft 5in or 1.04 meters 

Wearing glasses still cause she needs them. Also is wearing purple leg warmers on her back 2 legs 

Bobby

Light Brown fur/feathers with blue speckles. 

Blue eyes.

Small horn that will grow into one of those twisty horns (medium length forever)

Head to tail he is 4ft 10in long or 1.47 meters

Goround to head he is 4ft 8in or 1.42 meters

I would say he occasionally still wears overalls but when you become a quadrupedal animal it is difficult. Wears a purple headband (one you tie around your head) with a spider clip

Trumpet

Dark blue fur/feathers with white front paws and speckles. 

Purple eyes

No horns and never will

Head to tail he is 3ft 4in long or 1 meter

Ground to head he is 3ft or 0.91 meters

The propeller hat he adores and white frilly socks is what he wears 

Richarlyson 

Dark brown fur/feathers with black speckling. 

Brown eyes.

Has small horns 

Head to tail he is 5ft 2in long or 1.57 meters 

Ground to head he is 3ft 8in or 1.12 meters 

He still needs a prosthetic. He is missing his back left leg

The T-Shirt! He still wears it along with a mooshroom bonnet (obviously not original but I love the art work with it)

Pomme

White fur/feathers with grey speckles. 

Blue eyes.

Has no horns yet

Head to tail she is 4ft long or 1.22 meters

Ground to head she is 3ft 6in or 1.07 meters 

The berret she is wearing it still along with grey gloves on her front paws and a butterfly necklace 

#qsmp #qsmp trumpet #qsmp trump #Richarlyson #pomme #chayanne #juanaflippa #Tilín #Tallulah #Ramón #Dapper #qsmp Leo #qsmp bobby #Born Anew universe #Born Anew #qsmp eggs #long post #<- just in case

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Strongest Traits (short story)

Hootpetal smiled softly at hers and Alderstar’s kits, Drizzlestare and Treespall, who were wrestling in the clearing. They may have kits of their own now, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t play fight like they were still four-moons old.

Beside her, Myrtlewing splayed out, enjoying the rare warmth radiating from the yellow mushrooms growing around them, heating the flat-topped boulder they laid on.

“I wasn’t expecting them to look so much like you and Alder,” Myrtlewing spoke up, chin resting on his foreleg. 

“Were you expecting Grousemane?” Hootpetal joked.

“I expected a mix,” Myrtlewing responded. “But we got one who looks like you and one who looks like our mate.”

The warmth spread to Hootpetal’s chest. She didn’t know why she loved hearing the ‘our’ before ‘mate’ so much. Perhaps it is because she once would have never expected a future where they could have all been happy, and together. “I’m happy to have them at all,” she told Myrtlewing, returning her gaze to her kits in time to watch as Drizzlestare pummelled Treespall’s round belly.

“But,” Myrtlewing went on, “aren’t you curious?”

“Of?”

“Who has the strongest traits, of course!” Myrtlewing answered enthusiastically, waving a emphatical paw. “Tree has his father’s coat, but your colours–”

“My colours?” 

“You know, eye, nose, pads, have you not been paying attention to your kits?” 

Hootpetal poked him.

“Drizzle went the other way. So who has the strongest traits if they basically turned out the same?”

Hootpetal raised a brow. “What, is this your way of pushing us to have more kits? Maybe we’re evenly matched.”

“Maybe you are,” Myrtlewing conceded. “And you could be equally weak or equally strong. I’m all curious now that the question is in my head.”

Hootpetal rolled her eyes playfully at him. “Do you want us to breed with someone else to test it out?”

“You can do that if you want to,” Myrtlewing smiled.

“Oh, and who should I choose? You?”

Myrtlewing rose, twisting his face into a flirtatious look and waggled his brows. “Oh yes, Hootpetal! Please, make my dream come true and have kits with me, for I am hopelessly in love with you!” He rested his paw on his forehead, and closed his eyes as he moved dramatically.

Hootpetal barked out a laugh loud enough to make Treespall and Drizzlestare pause their fight long enough to look at her. 

When Hootpetal and Myrtlewing could finally hold themselves together, Myrtlewing tilted his head in thought. “Not a bad idea,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

Myrtlewing hopped off of the rock. “Let’s discuss it with Alder and Grouse first.”

===================

Yep! The Eye-Out poly’s decision to have more kits started with Myrtle wondering who has the strongest genes, or ‘traits,’ since they don’t know what genes are. There’s obviously more, they wouldn’t have more kits JUST for a competition, but it is what started it.

And yes, they did tally the traits as soon as the kits opened their eyes. I’m done two of the refs and I’m now doing HootxGrouse!

#wc #dark tales #warriors dark tales #dark forest tales #wc dark tales #hootpetal story #myrtlewing story #alderstar #grousemane #treespall #drizzlestare #drizzlestare story #treespall story #eye-out poly #eye-out family #eye-out stories

[vmeemo]

Tavern Night Out

It was a quiet evening in the house outside of town. Which under normal circumstances would mean a nice, quiet night of relaxation and general calm vibes. This night however a certain catgirl managed to convince her friend to go out tonight to the tavern for a night out together.

"It won't be that bad Star." Kepler says, putting on a sweater, "It'll be just the two of us girls hanging out."

Her companion on the other hand blows some air as she says this, "And that's why I don't want to go. What was wrong with what we did before?"

"Nothing was wrong Star. I just wanted to mix it up a little bit." Kepler playfully nudges the shorter witch with her elbow. "So that's why we're going into town for a bit. And come on, you have to admit." Kepler starts putting on some shoes, her ears flicking absentmindedly a little, "You are just more surprised that I was the one who suggested this idea in the first place."

Seeing her friends' surprised face tells Kepler all she needed to know. Chuckling at this the gravity cat smiles and turns around, her tail brushing up against Star's hair. "Just trust me on this ok? I'm sure you wanted to give something else a shot? We can do what you like to do next time ok?"

"...Ok. I will try to enjoy myself." Star lets a smile form on her face, adjusting her robe. "We haven't gone out together in a while after all. You" She points a finger at Kepler, "are a lazy cat, so we don't get to do much."

"Hey you love it."

Star rolls her eyes and puts her footwear on. Once both of them are ready to go, they leave their home and walk over to the carriage. Star opens her robe a little, allowing a beetle to fly out and land on the ground. Kepler watches as she places a mushroom on-top of its head, before the beetle grows in size until it is about the size of a horse. With the reins attached to the beetle, the two witches hop on the carriage, where Kepler sits down beside Star.

"You ready?"

Star lets out some air as she holds the reins in her hands, "Ready as I can be when you get forced to go out by a lazy cat."

Said cat playfully sticks her tongue out at the other witch as Star gestures to the beetle to start moving. Once the carriage is on the dirt road Kepler takes this opportunity to get herself comfortable. It may only be a half hour ride from home to town, but that doesn't mean that comfort shouldn't take priority. Getting herself comfortable she looks out to the trees absentmindedly. Normally she would in fact nap on the ride but she doesn't want to do that this time. She has all the energy she needs in order to hangout with her friend. Letting out some air and feeling her ears twitch from the light breeze Kepler simply allows herself to relax for the half hour trip into the town of Senfold.

-----

(Half hour later)

Kepler opens her eyes as she starts to hear the rustle and bustle of the town ahead. She stretches her arms as she glances over to Star, who is looking at her with an amused expression. "Not even five minutes out from home and somehow despite you dragging me out here you still manage to nap on the ride here."

Despite what she said Kepler wasn't bothered by it. She allowed a grin to form on her face before wrapping an arm to Star's side, "And yet you kept going to town anyway. Admit it, you wanted to do this night out as much as I did."

The mushroom witch shifts her head a little, which to the catgirl means that she just rolled her eyes. Her eyes may be covered by hair all the time, but Kepler knows her well enough to know most of her body language. Letting go of Star, Kepler points over near the tavern, "There's a spot for Moon! Let's take it. They get some rest, and just have a good time while we're having fun inside."

Star nods at the suggestion, turning the giant stag beetle towards the area she pointed at. Once she leads both the beetle and the carriage towards the spot, the two witches disembark. Kepler gives the large beetle a pat on its side before walking over to Star, who is making sure everything is secured.

"You good to go?" Kepler asked.

The short witch hums as she secures her giant beetle, making sure it's all good before walking up to the taller catgirl, "Yeah yeah I'm coming."

With her friend beside her, Kepler leads Star over to the front of the tavern, the sign reading The Fortified Keg hanging over the door. Opening the door the two witches enter the tavern, seeing the bustling of people inside, some getting drinks, some with food, others having conversations, and even more looking like they had just finished a hard days work. With that observation, the two head over to a table and take their seats.

Star shuffles in her seat, getting herself some additional height to be level with Kepler, "Busy night huh? We were lucky to just find a spare table. So then-" Kepler watches her lean back in her chair, "Guess we just wait for someone to take our order then?"

"Yeah... Sure." After she says that, it falls to a relative silence between the two witches. It was around this point that Kepler realized that this wasn't exactly a great idea. Not because of getting out of the house, but because any amount of small talk won't mean much. They both live together, they both almost always know what the other person is up to at the given moment, and they both know each others routine in and out. So take all of that into consideration and suddenly any thought of going out becomes a not so great one.

As Kepler was struggling on what to say, much less do, Star speaks up. "Kepler." She looks over at the other witch, "What do you call a pile of cats?"

Kepler was confused at the question. Was this about her personal life or... "A cuddle pile I guess?"

The cat witch sees a smile form on Star's face, "A meow-ntain!"

When she says that it took a bit for Kepler to get it. Once she did though the catgirl snorted at the terrible joke. "Meow-tain? Really?"

"Hey it took a bit to think of that one!" Star looks away embarrassed, "Not like you got anything..."

Oh that was a challenge. And while Kepler doesn't normally exert herself too much, this was an exception. "Well Star, I'll have you know that I am an excellent joke master."

Star smirks and rests her head on her hand. Kepler doesn't need to see that her friend is waiting for her attempt at a joke. With that said, Kepler accepted it too soon, when she doesn't have any idea what to use. Glancing around the tavern she looks for anything that could be used as a joke. Upon glancing at a pumpkin pie nearby she gets one. "Alright, What do you call a fat pumpkin?"

Star thinks a little bit before shrugging. Now it is time for the cat to add in the punchline, "A pumpkin!"

There was silence at the table. When it felt like forever, Star puffs out her cheeks a little before chuckling, "Kepler that was terrible."

The catgirls' ears droop a little when Star says that, "Yeah I know... I needed something at least. It was the best I could come up with."

The witch across from her chuckles as she leans over and places a hand on hers, "Well it was an attempt at least." Star clears her throat before leaning away. "Alright, got another one. What do you call a bunch of strawberries in a band?"

"I don't know, what?"

"A jam session!"

Ok that one got Kepler laughing. "Not half bad Star. Not half bad at all." The catgirl witch thinks for a moment as she attempts to make another joke, "Alright here's another one. What do you call a joke you make in the shower? A clean joke!"

This time Star smiles as she giggled at that, "See you got potential. But not good enough. Let's see..." As the mushroom witch tries to think of another one to tell, a human waitress walks by, waving over at the two.

"Ah sorry about that! Apologies about the wait, we are super busy as you can see. I hope that I didn't interrupt anything?"

"No no you're fine!" Star makes sure that the waitress wasn't interrupting anything before clearing her throat, "Say Kepler-" Star grins as she looks over at her friend, "I can tell you this last joke. But. There's a condition to it. If I can get you to laugh at this next one, you have to pay up. And if you don't then you can pick what I get to eat. Sound like a deal?"

Kepler's brows raise up at the challenge. Glancing over at the waitress, she sees that she too is interested at this stipulation. "Alright, I except this challenge. Only one joke." The witch grins at the other girl, "Go."

Seeing her friend immediately go into thinking makes her wonder what kind of joke Star will pull off. Eventually after what felt like minutes Star grins as she folds her hands together, "Knock knock."

A knock knock joke huh? Well lets see what she has then. "Who's there?"

"Owl say."

"Owl say who-"

Right then and there Kepler keeled over on the table. And Star can see it. And with that she can see the other witch deliver the finishing blow, "Yes, they do."

And Kepler laughed at that. It was so dumb that she should be ashamed of falling for such a corny joke so easily. But that's likely why she laughed in the first place. Because of how corny it was. "Alright Star you win. I'll pay for the food." The catgirl looks up at the waitress who seemed slightly amused at the joke as well. "Sorry about that."

The waitress brushes her off, "It's ok. Did give me a little laugh as well so you don't need to be ashamed at losing to something so corny. Anyways-" She pulls out a little notepad, "What would you two like to order?"

Kepler hums as she looks over the menu. In hindsight she probably should've done this earlier, but she was too into the joke-off her and Star were having. Luckily there was something the catgirl could have. "Yeah I can go with... The Stronganoff Special? With noodles if that's fine."

The waitress hums as she writes this down. Star on the other hand raises a brow at this, "Don't you mean stroganoff?"

"No I said Stronganoff. It's written like that see?" Showing the menu to Star, she blinks a little before uttering a small 'huh' as she sees that it is in fact spelt that way. "Well then. As for my order, I will have a chicken and greens alfredo."

The waitress hums some more before looking at the two, "And would you two like some drinks with that or wait a bit?"

"Wait a bit for now if you don't mind."

With a nod and a smile the lady walks away with their order written down, leaving both witches alone at the table once more. Before Kepler broke the silence anyway, "You did pretty well with those jokes." She playfully nudges Star's shoulder from across the table, "When did you become such a comedian?"

She chuckles as she is asked that question, "Never really. I just remember reading them somewhere and figured that we needed an icebreaker since we both were kinda flubbing this night out so far."

"Yeah you weren't wrong there."

The two laughed at this. And here Kepler was, thinking that this was a bad idea. "So Star-" She leans back in her chair and shows off her bracelet, "Wanna watch me twirl some forks around for a bit while we're waiting?"

Star rolls her eyes at the question. Good enough for her. The magic glows faintly in her bracelet as she makes the set of forks they have float in the air before rotating in the air. "I won't be doing this for long. Just something to do while we wait. I'll stop if you want me to." Not immediately hearing anything from her friend, Kepler keeps rotating the two forks in the air before tapping them together.

"Oh neat." Kepler said, noting the resistance of the forks when she tried to pull them apart, "Magnetic. Don't see that everyday." Kepler lessens the gravity around one of them, seeing that they're still stuck together. "One of those fun little things you don't see often."

Star nods in agreement at this. After another rotation with the forks Kepler sets them down on the table. "That was fun while it lasted." Letting out a sigh the catgirl rests her head on her hand, "I know it's busy here and all but I want my food..."

The mushroom witch nods, tapping her fingers against the wooden table as they both patiently wait for their food. As they wait, Kepler scrunches her face. She is not doing a great job with this and needs to figure out what to say so that it isn't so awkward between the two.

"Hey Kepler?"

The catgirl glances at the other witch, who is twirling one of the ends of her hair, "Maybe... Sometime we can go out over to Port Dorroad? It's a long trip I know but there was a place I saw when I travelled before that might interest you?" Kepler raises a brow, no longer feeling anxious about how to make this less awkward, but curious about what Star has in mind.

"Well it was a sculpting fair I think. I know it's not what you would normally do, but I guess I thought that it was something we can go to together?" Star nervously taps her fingers against the table before shaking her head, "Forget it, it was a silly idea."

Shaking her own head at this Kepler places a hand on Star's, making them stop tapping, "I don't think so. Yeah it's not something either of us do but that doesn't mean we can't find enjoyment out of it right? May as well try."

Star is silent at this. Eventually she smiles, her hand now laying flat on the table. "Thanks. It'll be awhile before we head out to Dorroad but glad we could talk about it." Kepler nods, and before either of them could continue the conversation, both of their plates of food arrive, being placed in front of them.

"Here you are!" The waitress says, smiling at the two, "Sorry it took so long. Hope you two enjoy your meal!"  The two witches thank her before she walks away. With her gone the two look at their food, still steaming. Star picks up her fork, digging it into her alfredo.

"Here's hoping this was worth the wait." Following her lead Kepler picks up her own fork, digging into her food. Upon taking a bite the catgirl notes two things. First, it was still a hot for her when she put it in her mouth. And two, this was really good. Impressed by the taste of the beef and the sauce in her mouth, Kepler takes another bite of the stroganoff.

After the second bite Kepler glances at Star, who also seems to be enjoying her own food as well. As if she knows that the catgirl is staring at her, Star looks up at her and smiles, "You know what? This was absolutely worth the wait. We should come here again sometime."

Kepler nods in agreement, taking another forkful of beef into her mouth. She was no food aficionado, that's too much work. What she can say about this food in front of her? Best thing she's eaten. As she chows down on her dinner she makes note of Star taking her time with it. That's when Kepler stops, holding out a forkful of beef stroganoff to her friends' face, "You want a bit? I don't mind really."

Eyeing the forkful of food, Star glances at Kepler before taking a bite from her fork. She watches her chew on it for a moment before swallowing. "That." Star leans forward and smiles, eyeing Kepler's food, "That was pretty good. A bit better then my safe option. Which is why I want to trade."

Oh she was not going there. "No. My food." Kepler pulls her plate away from the hungry witch, "You have your own, eat that. You can get it next time." Star giggles at this, trying to stab Kepler's food with her fork, "Stop it. Mine!"

"Come of Kep I'm sure you can spare some of it!" With her own fork Kepler blocks Star's attempts at eating her more of food.

This goes on for a little bit between the two, with Star trying to stab a bit of Kepler's stroganoff while she parries the attacks. There was a brief opening, and that was all that Kepler needed, rushing forward and stabbing  a bit of chicken and noodles before taking that bite. Kepler smugly smirks at Star as she chews on the chicken alfredo, who glares back. With a sigh Star leans back into her chair with a small smile, "Alright Kep, you win. I won't eat anymore of your food. Just don't eat mine ok?"

She chuckles at this before going back to eating her food. Calmed down from the playful 'battle' between the two Kepler lets herself relax as both her and Star eat their dinners, making quiet conversation whenever they each thought of something to say. About 15-20 minutes pass before they each are finished with their respective dinners, Kepler leaning back against her chair.

"Oof. Who knew that one serving was enough to fill me up?" She looks over at Star, who has pushed her plate away. "You good too Star?"

The witch lets out a long breath of air in response. That told her everything she needed to know. Which was good as she saw their waitress come by, looking cheery as always, "You two doing well? Would you be interested in our deserts?"

As tempting as it was, Kepler already wasn't ready for whatever the price of their meals and drinks would total up to, desert would drain her dry if she got some for the both of them. "We're good thanks. Just hand me the bill if you don't mind."

She nods her head and writes on her notepad, pausing every now and then to do the math. When she gets it done the waitress writes down the total and passes the paper to Kepler, "Your total is around 27 silver pieces."

Kepler feels her eye twitch in annoyance before making it stop. 27 was a lot for a two person dinner. She was lucky that she saved up to 40 silver for this reason but still. Holding back some air she digs into her shirt to pull out her little bag containing her silver. Pulling out around 34 silver she hands it over to the waitress, who keeps the smile up as she takes her hard earned silver. "Thank you! Hope you two have a nice night!"

The waitress was about to leave when Star clears her throat, "Sorry to ask but do you do take home drinks here or no?" Kepler keeps silent, wondering what she was up to. She should've asked if Star wanted anything else, and the mushroom witch gently clasps her hand, stopping her from pulling out more silver, "You don't need to do that Kep. I can do it if the options there."

Looking at Star the waitress shakes her head, "I'm sorry miss, we don't do that anymore. We used to but tourists and the adventuring type would never actually return them after they're done with them. Sorry for that."

Star waves the waitress off, understanding what she means, "No worries. I'd be pretty annoyed too if people essentially stole glassware from my business. Just figured I'd ask. Thanks again." The waitress bows her head and walks off, leaving the two witches alone. "Sorry about that. Before I moved here with you there was a city that did do portable drinks. I wasn't really expecting it to happen but I figured to ask anyway."

The catgirl could understand that to a degree. "Maybe one day we can go somewhere that does that. In the meantime though-" Kepler gets out of her chair, stretching her limbs, "I'm about ready to go home. Pretty sure that Moon wants to do the same, being out there for who-knows-how long."

"Yeah... Let's go then."

Star gets up from her chair as well, letting Kepler lead the way. When they get out of the tavern the had gone down outside, a few stars shining dimly in the sky as they both walk over to the giant stag beetle, who slowly got up as the two witches approached it. Kepler climbs onto the carriage seat as Star pets the beetle, getting herself comfortable before the other person gets on as well and they go off to head home. Kepler feels herself dozing off a few times, but the rocking of the carriage kept her awake. It was quiet during the duration of the half hour ride back. It was understandable to the cat witch, as both of them were getting tired.

When they finally made it home Kepler was relieved. When Star parks the carriage near the house she hops off of it, heading towards the house, feeling herself become more and more tired as she got closer. When Star showed up shortly beside her with Moon resting on her hat did Kepler go inside the house with her friend. Upon entry Kepler places the bag of silver on the counter, going for her bedroom. She wants to be in something comfy.

It didn't take long for her to change either, going for a pajama shorts approach. All dressed up now she heads over to the couch, seeing Star in her favourite spot, also dressed up in nightwear. Were it any other day she would be playful about it and lay on Star until she relented but she wasn't feeling up for it tonight. Guess being in a public place for that long really drained her. Shuffling over to the couch Kepler takes her seat beside the mushroom witch, feeling all of her energy drop the instant she sat down.

Letting out a yawn she glances over at Star, "Ugh... Think I might just sleep on the couch tonight... Don't feel like going to my bed. Ironic considering I changed there. I can carry you to bed if you want, I don't mind..."

She doesn't hear anything from Star at first, leaving her in silence. Before Kepler could say anything else she hears her friend speak, "Maybe... We could sleep here together? Cuddle if you like? I feel the same way really. Too lazy for my own bed." Star lets out a tired chuckle as she shuffles on the couch, laying down on her side, "I'm becoming like you."

Feeling a grin form at this Kepler joins Star, laying where she was. It was a bit of a squeeze but she could handle it, "Isn't it great? Now you too can relax."

They both let out a tired laugh at this before they each let out a yawn. As Kepler finishes yawning, she absentmindedly wraps her arms around the shorter witch, placing her hands around her stomach area. Once she realizes where her hands are Kepler pulls them away, "S-Sorry. Don't know why I did that..."

Before she could fully take her furry hands off of her though, Star grabs one of them, guiding it back down to her stomach, "Don't mind it. Feels yawn nice..."

Kepler blushes a little at the forwardness before relaxing, letting her fingers gently touch Star's exposed tummy.  Letting herself be comfortable with this she unknowingly allows herself to purr into Star's back, closing her eyes to allow herself to sleep. A good end to cap off a good dinner trip out she would say.

#star's tag #kepler's tag #writing #memo writes

[littledemondani]

just this once | duncan shepherd x fem!reader x andy dolan

kinktober day 2: threesome

warnings: m/m/f threesome, cunnilingus, blowjob, fingering, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, orgy, double penetration, pwp

word count: 2.8K

a/n: this turned out way longer than i ever intended it to be and i'm not even sorry. i had been sitting on the idea of andy x reader x duncan for a long time and i really hope you all like what i came up with!

-----------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Y/N asked her bf, Andy. “I mean..you don’t think we’ll regret this?”

They stood in the doorway of the mansion they had walked into, drinking in the sight before them.

People. Lots of people. Completely naked. Some fucking, some chatting.

When Andy first spilled the details of getting invited to a sex party at an undisclosed location in Hollywood, Y/N laughed. She didn’t take him seriously. And why would she?

They had been through a lot over the past couple of months — with Andy’s addiction and fall from grace. There was no way going to a sex party was going to make things better for Andy’s reputation.

Yet, here they were, standing before a sea of recognizable and not so recognizable faces.

Andy takes Y/N’s hand, rubbing soothe circles along the back with his thumb. “It’s going to be fine. If you’re uncomfortable, then we can leave. I promise.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’d say let’s get a few drinks, but.”

Andy chuckles lightly, nodding as he does so. “That wouldn’t be a disaster.”

He leads her through the crowd of people, hoping to find an empty space where they could sit for a moment. Along the way, they came across two men making out, while another knelt between one of their legs and sucked on their cock. The scene made Andy’s cock harden slightly under his pants and he reaches down to palm himself slightly, chewing the corner of his lip at the contact.

He began to imagine another man sucking his cock while Y/N sat on his face, her nails gripping tightly onto his hair like a vice. It had been a while since he was involved with a man, or even had a threesome, since before Y/N came into his life. He decided to approach the subject with her once they sat down.

They sat on a love seat in one of the formal living areas. It was one of the places untouched by the other members and the perfect spot for them.

Y/N looked to Andy, her E/C eyes finding solace in his familiarity. “So. What are you thinking so far?”

It was as if she knew what was going through his mind. And she did. She knew Andy was sexually experienced. It showed in the way he fucked her, touched her, and made her cum harder than anyone else has done before. She also knew that he was hypersexual and that enjoyed having multiple partners at a time — a part of himself that he repressed when he met and fell in love with her.

“I think…,” he says, his voice trailing off. He looks around, his darkened blue eyes falling on a woman standing up, being held from behind by a man as she gets her pussy eaten. He swallows thickly, licking his lips before turning his gaze back to Y/N. “I think this night is going to be very interesting.

Not the answer Y/N was expecting, but, she nods in agreement. Her own gaze falls on the same throuple and she can’t help the moan that lodges itself in her throat.

The woman’s head rests on the man’s shoulders, his large hands grabbing at her breasts and tweaking her hardened nipples between his fingers. Her face is contorted in pleasure and soon enough she cums, grinding erratically on the face of the person eating her out.

Y/N is overcome with arousal, heat flooding throughout her body. She tears her eyes from them to Andy.

He, too, has his eyes on them, his chest visibly rising and falling as his breathing becomes ragged. Y/N scoots closer to him, placing her hand on his thigh.

“Did that turn you on, baby?” she whispers into his ear.

Andy nods, swallowing once more. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low and dripping with lust.

“Tell me what you want,” she says, tugging his lobe between her teeth. “And you’ll get it.”

He shivers at the close proximity of her, his eyes rolling back a little. “I want to eat that fucking tight pussy of yours,” he says. “And I want you to suck some other guy’s cock while I do it. Then I want us both to fuck you senseless.”

His words go straight to her core, causing fresh arousal to pool on the gusset of her thong. She brings her hand to his cock, moaning at the feel of the prominent bulge straining against his pants. “What else do you want?”

He groans, tipping his head back as her hand massages and cups his erection. “I want you to take your fucking clothes off. Now.”

Y/N smirks and stands in front of him, blocking his view of the party. She slowly slides the zipper of her short, black dress and lets it fall around her feet, leaving her in nothing but a black thong that left very little to the imagination, and her black Louboutins. She steps out of the dress and stands between Andy’s legs.

His hungry eyes rake over her body before meeting her own eyes. He reaches out to touch her, ghosting his fingers along the expanse of her stomach, admiring the goosebumps that form in their wake. “Get on your knees. I want you to suck my cock.”

Without hesitation, she drops to her knees. She leans forward, mouthing at his cock over his pants. Andy releases a soft moan, his hand immediately finding purchase in her hair.

Y/N takes her time teasing him, relishing in the power she has over him in that moment. She controls how worked up he gets, and how much attention she wants to give him. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to get him to beg for her to finally take his cock in her mouth.

She flicks her gaze up to him, lashes fluttering as she takes in the sight of him. His button up his opened to his chest, brunette curls draped over his forehead as he looks down at her, his pupils blown with intense arousal.

“You want me to suck you off in front of all these people? ” She asks, unzipping his pants at an agonizingly slow pace. “Show them how fucking good I make you feel?”

He nods rapidly, unable to form a coherent sentence from how hazy his mind has become with lust.

Y/N pulls his pants off of him and discards them with her dress, moaning at the sight of his cock as it bobs free. It’s thick, with protruding veins that make Y/N’s mouth water, a perfect mushroom-shaped head, and just the right length to where it isn’t uncomfortable for her.

She takes his cock in her hand, licking her lips as the precum leaks with each pump she makes. She darts her tongue out and swirls all along the crown, keeping her eyes on Andy.

He grips her hair tightly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of her wet mouth on his cock. When he opens them, he’s met with a similar pair of crystal eyes from across the room.

A tall, lean man with similar brunette curls to Andy watches them both intently. Andy recognizes him as the one who ate that girl’s pussy and he shoots him a wink before smirking softly.

Y/N bobs her head along his shaft, inching him all the way down until her nose is flush with his pelvis. She holds still for a moment, savoring the erotic moans spilling from Andy’s lips.

He keeps eye contact with the mysterious stranger, guiding Y/N’s head up and down his cock as he does so.

The man makes his way over to them, and Andy suddenly feels his cock swelling in her mouth, growing impossibly harder. He comes around them and sits next to Andy, not saying a word as he leans in and presses his lips to Andy’s.

Y/N notices the man, her eyes glued to him and Andy as they make out. Her cunt pulses with need and she reaches her hand down on top of the thin fabric of her thong. She drags a finger along the dampened fabric several times, teasing herself until she can’t take it anymore. She pulls the fabric to the side, moaning around Andy’s cock as she rubs the wetness over her throbbing clit.

Andy moans into the kiss at the vibration of the sounds Y/N makes, bucking his hips against her slowly. He pulls away from him, trailing his eyes from his lips back to his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Duncan,” he says, reaching over to finish unbuttoning Andy’s shirt. “Duncan Shepherd.”

Andy introduces himself and Y/N, all while Duncan slips the shirt off of him and tosses it onto the tile floor.

Duncan leans down, taking Andy’s left nipple into his mouth. He flicks his tongue a few times before gently scraping his teeth over it. Andy squirms a little, his plump lips parted as a long, exasperated moan tears itself from his chest. “Mm…fuck that feels good.”

Y/N continues her movements along Andy’s cock, keeping perfect rhythm as she pumps two fingers inside of her soaked cunt. Arousal coats her palm and drips down her thighs, making an obscene sloshing sound with each thrust of her hand.

She pulls him from her mouth and removes her fingers from her pussy, gasping for breath as she does so. Andy looks to her at the loss of her warm throat, making a ‘come here’ motion at her. She stands, straddling his thigh with one leg as she leans down and kisses him hungrily. Andy groans against her lips, rubbing his hand along her side.

Duncan kisses up Andy’s chest, over his jaw, and meets his lips with Y/N’s. She pulls away from Andy and capture’s Duncan’s lips. The kiss is a lot softer than she was anticipating. But his mouth moved seamlessly with hers — as if they had done this a thousand times before. Andy groans at the sight of them, grabbing at Y/N’s breasts before tweaking her hardened nipples. She moans into Duncan’s mouth, deepening the kiss as she brings her hand to the back of his head and pushes him closer to her.

Andy manages to get the rest of his clothing off, stroking his cock as the two continue kissing above him. Duncan pulls away, his breathing ragged as he looks between the two of them. “Shall we move this somewhere that has more room?”

“Lead the way,” Andy breathes, giving his cock one last pump before helping Y/N off of him.

-

Y/N lies on the California king bed, her back half propped against the many pillows. Andy and Duncan take turns lapping at her pussy, both men eating her out like she’s the best meal they’ve ever tasted. Andy sucks her clit into his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to rub the protruding head. Duncan swirls his tongue around her entrance a few times, teasing her before penetrating her.

Her back arches off the pillows, pulling Andy’s hair roughly as she does so. He groans against her pussy, and sucks on her clit with fervor. Duncan removes his tongue and replaces them with his fingers, licking his lips as they slide in and out of her cunt with ease. “Look at how wet you are for us,” he groans, keeping his eyes on her pussy. “You’ve practically soaked the sheets.”

Y/N lifts herself on her elbow, propping herself to get a better view. A moan escapes her at the sight of the two hot men licking and sucking her pussy. “Oh fuck…,” she breathes. “Mm..”

Duncan removes his fingers and climbs over her, straddling her face. He brings the tip of his cock to her lips and she eagerly takes him inside, bobbing her head eagerly along his shaft.

His cock is different than Andy’s — it’s longer, curved, with not as much girth. But she feels full, and begins to wonder what his cock would feel like in her pussy, or ass. The thought makes her clit throb in Andy’s mouth.

He suckles for a moment longer before pulling back and lining his cock up with her entrance. He slowly sinks inside of her, tipping his head back with a loud groan as her wet, warm walls envelop him. “Fuckkk,” he hisses, thrusting slow and shallow as he eases himself all the way inside of her.

Duncan braces his hands on the headboard, using it to help him thrust inside of her throat. “That’s it,” he moans, locking his eyes with hers. “Taking my cock so well.”

Y/N brings her hand to her sensitive clit, rubbing tight, soft circles. Andy stills once he’s fully seated, allowing her some time to adjust to his size. He watches as she plays with herself, his cock twitching inside of her. “Who knew my baby girl was so naughty,” he teases, slowly beginning to thrust. “Wanting to have two dicks inside of her filthy holes.”

She moans, increasing the pressure on her clit as she does so. She loves when Andy degrades her, and even more so when he does it in a way that’s masked behind that sweet, honey voice of his. Her walls clench repeatedly around him and he pushes her hand away, not wanting her to cum just yet.

Duncan thrusts himself further down her throat, holding her head in place so she can deepthroat him. She gags, tears springing to her eyes as she struggles to breathe. He releases her after a moment, setting a rough, fast pace as he fucks into her throat.

Andy picks up the pace as well, his own is steady and not as brutal as Duncan’s. The contrast between the two of them has Y/N’s head spinning. Where Duncan is rough, Andy is gentle. The perfect combination that she didn’t know she ever needed.

Almost as if they were communication telepathically, both men remove themselves from her. Duncan sits on the bed and helps Y/N on top of him, turning her so her back is flush with his chest. He holds her up by her thighs and Andy squirts some lube onto his cock, stroking it to coat it entirely. Once it’s good and ready, Duncan carefully eases into her ass. Y/N moans filthily, the sound almost pornographic as Duncan’s cock stretches her open. She gazes up at Andy, her face contorted in pleasure.

Andy pumps his cock, leaning down to kiss her with need. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging a little before biting down softly. He situates himself at her entrance and pushes in, groaning as he does so.

Duncan bottoms out, his cock throbbing with how tight her grip on him is. He waits for Andy to settle before he begins to thrust against her.

Y/N moans loudly. Her thoughts are clouded as the coil in her stomach begins to tighten with each thrust they make. All she can focus on his how fucking good Andy’s cock feels in her cunt, hitting her sweet spot with ease and making her cream all over him — and Duncan in her ass, his cockhead hitting against Andy’s, sending shivers down her spine.

Duncan lifts her up a little higher, getting a better grip on her thighs. “So tight,” he groans. “Fuck you’re so tight.” He thrusts a little faster, causing his heavy balls to slap against her cheeks.

The sound of skin on skin, heavy pants, and loud moans fills the room, egging each of them closer and closer to their peaks. Duncan cums first, a warning barely past his lips as he shoots ropes of hot cum into her ass. He keeps thrusting through his high, drawing it out as much as possible, his fingers pressing hard against her skin.

Andy holds back his own release, wanting Y/N to cum before him. “Go ahead and cum. Soak my fucking cock like I know you can.”

Y/N cums before Andy can finish his sentence. Her orgasm rocks through her, sending wave after wave of intense pleasure all throughout her body. Her release triggers Andy’s, and he cums hard, painting her walls with his seed. “Oh fuck!”

The three of them ride out their highs until they can’t anymore, collapsing together on the massive bed. They don’t say a word, not until they all collectively come down from their orgasms.

Andy looks to Y/N, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, giving him a soft smile, totally blissed out. “Are you?”

“Yeah.”

Duncan is the first to sit up, turning his attention to the two of them.

“I really enjoyed this,” he says, brushing a hand through his messed up curls. “If you’re up to do this again, I’m staying at the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills until the end of the week.”

He gets up and leaves the room before either of them can answer, smirking to himself as he walks out.

-

tagging: @fckinsupreme @wroteclassicaly @lovelylangdonx @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @xavierplymptons @instinctsxbaby @dailylangdon @confettucini @ferndolan

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd fanfic #duncan shepherd fanfiction #duncan shepherd x reader x andy dolan #andy dolan #andy dolan smut #andy dolan imagine #andy dolan x reader #andy dolan fanfic #andy dolan fanfiction #kinktober 2021

[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

[mauvecherie-writes]

Home This Christmas.

PAIRING: Dani [oc] x Michael B Jordan.

SUMMARY: Dani is weary that her fiancé won’t be home in time for Christmas but he makes sure that he’s there.

WARNING: 18+ fluff, sexual content, hormonal pregnant woman.

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

NOTE: micheal is not famous. this is not a request but a personal christmas present for my best friend @beautifullmelodyxx i love you so much!

“No, no, no. baby you promised me that you’d be on your way back and that you’d be in town by now!” Dani exclaimed as she slammed her fist against the steering wheel. Frustration quickly began to take over her body as she pondered on the words of her fiancé.

“I know babe and I’m really sorry but work has gone into overtime and I can’t stop it.”

“Michael Bakari Jordan, you are the CEO and owner of your company. You can delegate your power to your other admin and be on the first plane home.”

“Damn, not the full name.” He mumbled.

“I’m irritated Michael! You promised me that’d you’d be here tonight and I wouldn’t spend christmas eve alone and you’re about to break it.”

“It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. The client is being a pain to sign the contract and it’s causing everyone especially me. But you know I’m doing my best to speed up the process and come home to you.”

Dani screamed through her closed mouth. Yes, she was throwing a tantrum but it was all within good reason. Michael had not been home for a week and she was missing him terribly. Her pregnancy also made it extremely hard for her to control her hormones thus making her more needy than usual. She wanted Michael by her side and he wasn’t here which effectively added to the bad mood she was already experiencing from having to deal with entitled customers all day.

“You know what, I don’t want to call me unless you’re telling me you’ve landed and you’re coming home. Bye.” Dani did not give him time to respond before she ended the call and tightened grip around the leather of the wheel as tears pinched behind her eyes. She groaned before taking a deep breath and trying to calm her nerves as she pulled into the road that led to her home.

The black iron gates opened to her command after she pressed the fob on her keys. She parked her car and then got out, grabbing her office bags with her. As she stood up straight, the small rounded bottom of her belly was more prominent. At sixteen weeks, it was getting harder to hide her pregnancy as her emotions and cravings would often threaten to tell her secret. Dani and Michael had planned on revealing the news to their family during the swapping of gifts at Christmas tomorrow. However with the news that Michael dropped on her, it was looking like that plan was going to be pushed to the back burner.

Dani opened the front door with a heavy sigh as her shoulders slumped and leaned against the closed door before taking off her shoes and placed them onto the shoe rack by the door. She stalked further into their spacious home and placed her bags onto the couch before continuing her journey into the kitchen. Dani opened cupboards, grabbing her favourite snacks before jogging up the stairs.

She was stuffing her face with chips when she entered the master bedroom with an absent mind.

“Surprise!” A voice broke through the silent air which startled Dani so much, she screamed and dropped everything that was in her arms. With a hand on her chest, she focused on Michael’s figure that was standing in the middle of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a Christmas sweater.

“Fucking hell Michael!” She yelled at him and she rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes as she tried to control the anger that was already festering within her. His muffled laughter rang in her ears as he approached closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tightly against his chest as he rocked from side to side. He placed kisses on her cheeks and the side of her forehead.

“Hi baby.” He greeted Dani, his voice soft and mellow but she was not having it.

“You’re not funny.” She pushed him away and headed towards the bathroom but she could hear his footsteps behind her. “Don’t follow me, I’m mad at you right now.”

She entered the bathroom and began to run the water in the tub. After she dropped some bath salts and bubble bath soap, Dani stripped out of her clothes and put her locs into her bun on top of her head. She lathered her face in a mask and then finally sunk into the hot water. A soft hum came out of her as the warmth engulfed her.

Her eyes were still closed as she caught onto the scent of her fiancé before hearing the dragging of a stool towards the tub. Dani turned her head to the side and opened her eyes and welcomed the softness of Michael’s eyes.

“When did you get here?” She softly asked.

“A little after lunch. I initially thought about coming to your office and surprising you there but this seemed like a better idea. But now I’m starting to regret it.”

“You should. I was about to cry in the car. I really missed you.” Dani pouted which caused him to smile, showing his dimple.

“I missed you too.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her lips. She softly moaned as she held onto his cheek as she deepened the kiss but for a moment before pulling away. “Tantrums and all.” She tried to hide her smile as she rolled her eyes and moved back into her relaxed position.

“Whatever. I’m a pregnant hormonal woman and you’re not doing a very good job of making sure that I’m not stressed.”

His hand was in the water as he caressed her leg.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” The look in his eyes was full of temptation. He was trying to seduce his way out of trouble and Dani felt every fibre of her being wanting to give in but she wanted to make him sweat a little.

“You can start by cooking me something nice and quick.”

“Anything else?”

“I want the fireplace lit with a little set up in front of it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you do all of that, I might forgive you.”

Michael chuckled before capturing her lips once again.

“I‘ll do what I can.” Dani bit onto her lip as he watched him walk away. Her eyes narrowed on his ass and she moaned getting flashbacks of the day before he left for his trip. She remembered digging her manicured nails into the firm, muscled flesh of his ass. Now, her arousal began to rise which caused her to groan softly and close her eyes as the thoughts filled her mind.

She did not stay in the tub for more time than needed and took a quick shower before leaving the bathroom. Dani moisturised her skin and then got dressed in an old large shirt of Michael’s and a pair of red thongs and some warm, fluffy christmas socks. She neatly wrapped her hair and applied her night creams.

When she got downstairs, the scent of the food became stronger. Michael was standing by the counter as he dished the food. He made a quick meal of creamy ham and mushroom linguine with a side of wild green salad.

Dani’s mouth watered at the sight.

“This looks so good baby.” She commented as she sat at a stool by the counter. Michael pushed a plate towards her and poured her a cup of strawberry lemonade.

“Thank you.” He replied with another shared kiss before the couple indulged in their food. They shared stories of their work days — Dani’s being far more interesting as her career as an event planner led her to cross paths with peculiar people.

As it was Christmas, her and her team were organising annual Christmas parties for companies. Dani and her assistant were planning a party for a successful local law firm and they were having a problem with the firm’s representative and it took all of Dani’s customer service training to not blow off her top and refuse to work with her. However Dani’s company had an incredibly clean record with an impeccable reputation. Nothing, especially snotty, little entitled fund babies.

Michael laughed at all of her retelling and watched her with an awestruck look in his eyes. Together for four years and nothing about the way that he felt about her had changed, only intensified. Eating dinner with her before moving to the fireplace as the Grinch played lowly in the background made him appreciate the little things. These were moments that he never wanted to miss and he promised to himself that he never will.

He was leaning against the couch with Dani in between his legs. His hands were around her torso, hands on her belly as he listened to her ramblings about past christmases. As much as he was trying to listen to what she was saying, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her womb. His seed was growing in there. Their baby was within her and she was bringing life into their world and extending their family.

How could he not be in love with her? Dani trusted him so much that she was willing to give birth and be with him in matrimony. Michael had never experienced a love like this and he was never going to give it up.

“Are you even listening to me?” Dani asked as she shifted her head slightly to look at him.

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I was thinking about how in love I am with you.”

“Awe baby.” She cooed as she turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you so much.” Multiple kisses were placed on his jawline, tickling his skin causing him to laugh before turning his head and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. Her hands went to tug onto his small afro as the kiss intensified. He laid her down onto the blanket that was beneath them and made sure that he wasn’t applying too much pressure onto her lower abdomen.

His hands were on either side of her head as her legs shifted to being around his waist. He brought his weight down and pressed himself against her flimsily covered core. Dani whimpered into his mouth as her hands moved down his torso and pulled on his sweater. He stood on his knees and pulled it off his body before hovering above her and attaching his lips to her once more.

Her hips bucked upwards so as to build on the friction but Michael held her down by her arms before trailing his lips down her neck, the soft prickles of his beard rubbing against her skin caused her buried arousal to begin to arise once more. As he worked his way down her body, he pushed the shirt further up her body and took one of her nippled into his mouth.

“Fuck.” Dani gasped as she felt his tongue flick her sensitive nipple before sucking on it. Her pregnancy made everything much more sensitive which intensified every little thing. As she took off her shirt and dropped it onto the floor as Michael pushed her thighs apart and chuckled at the festive colour of her damp thongs.

“Did you put these on for me?” He mumbled against her thigh and bit into it as he pulled them down her legs before settling close to her pussy once again.

“I thought that they matched the festive spirit.” Dani replied, giggling as she felt his breath brush against her drenched core. She bit onto her lip as she leaned up onto her elbows and looked down at her fiance. The yellow lights of the Christmas tree illuminated onto his face before he used his tongue to lick clean her weeping nectar.

That’s when he lost himself in between her thighs. Using his skilful tongue, he would lick around her clit, flick it repeatedly before trailing down to her entrance and pushing his tongue in. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he paid more attention to her clit and began fucking her with his fingers which caused her moan to turn into screams.

She pulled on the blanket s beneath her as her orgasm began to rise.

“Oh baby, I’m going to cum.” Dani gasped as her thighs began to quake. Her orgasm gripped her body as she arched off the floor. He thrusted his fingers faster and faster into her, prolonging her climax for as long as her could before she finally pushed him away.

“Can’t take it baby?” He licked his lips as he took his trousers off and laid down on the floor and pulled her on top of him. Dani positioned herself properly and went in between her leg and wrapped her hands around his cock and stroked him softly. She watched as his chest raised up and down as he throbbed in her hand.

“You get too overzealous, my pussy is too tender for that.” She replied as she raised up and

began to sink down onto his thickness. Dani let out a sweet moan as he stretched her walls. She leaned forward and placed her hands onto his chest as she took deep breaths as Michael pushed deeper into her. He watched as she bit on her lip and her eyes fluttered close as she took all of him.

He groaned as he gripped onto her thighs as she snuggly fit around him. “But you’re not complaining when I’m deep inside of you.”

“Daddy.” Dani gasped as he lifted her hips and brought her back down onto him. The best thing was watching the faces she made as she used him for her pleasure. With every roll of her hips and each breathy moan that left her parted lips, Michael could feel the tug at the bottom of his stomach. When she was so consumed within the throes, Dani never called him by his given name, just Daddy. He loved hearing her call him.

His hand travelled to her breast and pulled on her nipple as he moved his hips to her pace.

“Fuck!” She groaned as she rolled her hips faster and faster, tightening her core around his cock causing him to growl beneath her. Dani opened her eyes and leaned down and took his bottom lip into her mouth as she began to bounce on him.

“You feeling good baby?” He mumbled against her lips as she looked into his eyes as his arms wrapped around her and he planted his feet onto the floor and thrusted harder into her causing her moans to turn into the screams. Her head was slightly above his as she pulled on the blankets. Their bodies moved in sync with each other as they chased their climax. Michael sat up and held onto the back of her neck as he branded her lips with his.

Embracing each other tightly, Dani continued moving her hips as their tongues passionately entangled as their moans blended together.

“Fuck baby, I’m going to cum.” He whispered against her lips.

“Cum in me Daddy, fill me up. Please, please, please.” Dani moaned as her walls clenched around him, eliciting a deep moan as Michael squeezed onto her ass as he held onto her body as he buried his seed deep inside of her. Dani whimpered as she let go of her inhibitions and trembled in his arms.

They held each other as they focused on calming themselves down. Michael laid back down with her still on top of him. Her eyes were closed as she listened to his beating heart. When her eyes opened, she caught sight of the erected Christmas tree.

“Oh god.” Dani groaned with a scoff. “We fucked in front of the Christmas tree like some cliche hallmark movie.”

“It’d be r rated just from your moans alone.” Michael replied as he ran his fingers up and down her back. Dani laughed as she playfully slapped his chest.

“Shut up.” She mumbled before cuddling into his body and closing her eyes as she felt her body relax. Christmas was looking up already...

#mauvecherie writes #mbj x black oc #mbj x black reader #michael b jordan x reader #Michael b Jordan x black reader #micheal b Jordan x black oc #mbj smut #mbj fanfiction #mbj one shot

[nyxerebus]

Boring Bar - Modern Levi x Female Reader

“Why are we here again?” The raven-haired man asked his friend. “You need to get out more Levi, So this is me dragging you out” Erwin smiled back. Levi just scoffed at him and looked around the bar.

Filthy.

“Hange and some others are coming soon”.

Huh!? “Shitty glasses and her shitty friends are also coming?” Erwin chuckled and nodded. Levi’s mood became even more shittier. If that was possible. They both drank in silenced for a while. Both ordering the same glass of whisky, Erwin on the rocks, Levi with a twist. The music was typical bar music, boring. Some people were dancing over at the dancefloor. Half the booths were filled, but Erwin and Levi were the only two sitting at the bar. “So, how have you been?” Erwin asked. He knew the answer. Not good. Levi and Petra had broken up a month ago, and he was still hung up on it. The breakup was really messy. Levi had caught her cheating on him with her co-worker. The biggest cliché in the world. “You know”, Erwin expected something more, but that was the only thing he got from Levi. “Okay, talking about it clearly isn’t something you want, but do you know what you need?” Levi raised his eyebrows at the blond. “A rebound!”

“A rebound?” Levi repeated. “You need a quick one night stand to get over her and move on, it will clear up your head. I promise” Levi looked at the man with a questionable look, but didn’t push further. They both fell into a silence, Levi still processing his words - was a rebound all he needed?

The glorious silence between the long-time friends was cut short when the bell at the door rang. “Leviiii! Erwinnnn!” Hange’s voice boomed over the bar. Her and Mike and Nanaba walked over to them and hugged Erwin, (Hange tried to give Levi a hug, but ended up with a elbow in the ribs).

A comfortable conversation fell between the four adults. Even though Levi gave them a hard time for dragging him out, he loved just sitting on the side-line and listening to the conversations. It was comforting. “Oh! I forgot to tell you guys” Hange exclaimed. “What’s up four eyes”.

“An old friend of mine is coming over and staying with me the next week! She’s going to meet us here, you guys fine with her hanging out with us?”.

“Of course! Where do you know her from?” Nanaba asked.

“We were dorm roommates back in my collage days!”. Hange smiled. “She is really nice, so you better treat her nice!” She threatened, even though she wasn’t that threatening.

The bell over the door rang again. “She’s here!” Hange waved over a (your height) woman. Hange hugged her and lifted the poor girl up from the ground, her legs kicking in the air. “So good to see you again!” Hange squealed and danced around, still holding the girl up. “Hange, let the poor girl down” Nanaba looked a bit concerned by her mad scientist friends action. Hange, reluctant, let the girl down and introduced her to her friends.

“This is (Y/N) (L/N)! My long-time friend form collage!” The group greeted her and Erwin moved over a bar stool she could sit on, moved it next to Levi. He sent the raven man a smug look. Damn eyebrow freak.

“So, (Y/N), what did you study?” They asked her many questions about her life. They learned that she studied History, (was still studying, but balancing school with working in a flower shop with her brother), she had two cats and her favourite book was Pride and Prejudice. Hange was clearly proud of her friend and showed her of to no extent. Levi noticed the girl, (Y/N) was looking very nervous and would often blush and wiggle in her seat when Hange went on about her life.

Cute.

What was he thinking? He couldn’t develop a thing for Hange’s friend, she was clearly very protective of her and would no doubt rip his dick of if he tried to get with (Y/N). “So, (Y/N), got a boyfriend” This time it was Nanaba that asked. This made Levi perk up, for some reason the idea that she had a boyfriend made his chest tighten.

What was wrong with him? He felt more jealous at the possibility that a woman he had just met had a boyfriend, than when he caught his girlfriend of 9 months in bed with another man.

“No, its just me and my cats at the moment” She rubbed the back of her neck. Levi realised a breath of relief, no one noticed. Well, no one except Erwin, who grinned into his drink.

The conversation drifted away from (Y/N) life to more mundane things. Work, family and what not. To be honest, Levi was only paying attention if (Y/N) was speaking. But sadly, the evening turned into the night. And everyone was suddenly reminded that they had work tomorrow.

“It was great meeting you all! Hope we can meet another time!” (Y/N) smiled at them. “Of course! Maybe for lunch?” Nanaba questioned. They agreed to meet for lunch one day, and split up. But luckily for Levi, he and Hange lived on the same street. So the three of them walked together to the building the two ladies lived at. Hange wouldn’t stop talking about her latest experiments.

Levi tried a few times to ask (Y/N) some questions, but they either came out as insults or as interrupted by Hange. Usually he was smooth with woman, never having to struggle cause most flocked towards him. But when he had to impress her, he became suddenly shy and nervous.

Snap out of it Ackerman! But before he could snap out of it, the stood outside Hanges apartment. “Looks like were parting ways here Clean freak! See ya tomorrow!” And with that they disappeared behind the entrenced to the building. Levi stood on the street for a couple of minutes, thinking over the night. He cursed at himself for not growing a pair and asking her out. He went to bed angry with himself.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next week past with everyday just the same like the last. Levi would meet you and Hange at 8 am and walk to your respective jobs. Everyone would meet for lunch (sometimes Erwin, Nanaba and Mike couldn’t make it, but Levi would always make it). And everyday, Levi became more and more enchanted with (Y/N).

“I don’t know what to do!” Levi groaned and threw his head back against the coach back. He and Erwin and Mike was chilling at Levi’s apartment. “Sounds like love to me” Erwin replied with his cheeky grinned. Oh, how Levi wanted to smack the grin of off his face.

“How? I have only known her for one week!”

“Love at first sight” Mike spoke up. “That doesn’t exist asshole” Levi grumbled out, chugging back his drink. “I don’t know man, Mike might be on to something”.

“Fuckers”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Levi was driving home when he saw it. ‘Mushrooms and Flowers’, the flower shop (Y/N) worked at. His body reacted before his mind could stop it. And before he knew it his car was parked in front of it and he was halfway between his car and the shop.

A bell rang when he entered the small shop. It was cozy, fairy lights hanging from the celling and the walls were covered in flowers, and by the counter there was a mushrooms display. “Levi!” A familiar voice called from him. “So good to see you” She walked over to him. “How can I help you?”

He was silent. The cold, stoic, gives zero shits Levi Ackerman, was fucking silent.

The hells wrong with you?! Speak!

“I need some flowers” Yeah, idiot why else would you be here?! “You came to the right place! What is the occasion?”

Oh god? Was he going to get flowers for a girlfriend? Of course, he had a girl, a man that gorgeous always have an equally beautiful woman by his side. You cannot compete!

(Y/N) was equally nervous as Levi. The same pang of jealousy raced through her at the thought of him with another woman. “A girl” was all Levi muttered out. Sadness filled (Y/N), but she bit her tears back. Not wanting him to know about her feelings for him. The same feelings that had kept her up at night and made her heart race in a way it never had.

“Well, we have some beautiful roses in many colours! What’s her favourite” (Y/N) tried not to sound disgusted by the mentioned of another woman.

Levi thought back to when (Y/N) mentioned what her favourite colour was. “Orange”.

Good taste, (Y/N) thought. “Well, these are my favourite. They have a nice deep orange colour and gets pretty red at the tips of the flower leaves”. (Y/N) pointed at the flower in the rose’s aisle. Levi agreed that it was beautiful and didn’t hesitate to say: “I’ll take it”.

His apartment smelled of roses. On his kitchen island, four rose bouquets of the orange flowers sat. He had gotten all they had in the store. He was opening a new bottle of whiskey. Not knowing what to do. The glass he filled was quickly swallowed and he filled another.

“I blew it!” He shouldn’t have said it was for a girl. What if she thought it was serious and stopped talking to him? What if she found out that he lied about having a girl and though he was a creep?

A million bad thoughts raced through his head, until he finally decided. He was going to do something about it. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol. But a new wave of courage waved through him and he grabbed the flowers and his keys. He knew Hange had a meeting at work, so (Y/N) was home alone.

The walk over was quick. But not quick enough. When he reached the apartment door, the courage washed of and he realized what was going to happened. He was going to confess and she was going to reject him. Why would she not? She has probably heard about his insults and how cold he is from Hange. Why would someone as cheerful as her want someone as dickish like him?

No, he couldn’t do it. He left the building.

(Y/N) heard someone moving around outside the door. She looked out the peep hole and saw no one, but something on the ground caught her eye. The flowers Levi had bought from her. All four bouquets. Wasn’t these flowers for a girl? After a minute of looking at the flowers with pure confusion, it clicked.

She was the girl.

Without thinking she ran after him. Only in her sleeping shorts and tank top, and her slippers, she ran down the stairs and out to the street. After looking around, she caught him walking away.

“Levi!”

He turned around and was met with her body colliding into him. She was out of breath after running down all the stairs after him. “The hell you doing out here brat!”

He looked down at her hands and saw the flowers. He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed deeply. Here comes the rejection.

“Was I the girl?” He looked down at her. Risking it all, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah you are”. Time stood still. The people around them didn’t matter, the rain that was starting to pour down didn’t matter, only them. He looked in her eyes, looking for an answer, but when she pulled him down too meet his lips, he got it. Even though it took a moment for him to realize this was actually happening, when he snapped out of it he kissed her back.

It was like something out of a movie. The rain was pouring down. He was bending her back down a bit and leaning down with her. One hand was behind her back, stabilizing her and the other was on her jaw, holding her close. Her hands were wrapped around his neck. He broke the kiss when he felt her shivering against him. Suddenly he was reminded that they were out on a busy street, it was almost midnight, and she wasn’t wearing clothes fit for the rain, or just being outside in the cold.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” She nodded her hand. As they walked back to her apartment hand in hand, Levi thanked the gods that Erwin had dragged him out to that boring bar.

A/N: Hope you like it! I'm not too happy with the ending, its a bit rushed but i am writing this at 2 am, sooo hehe. Might write a part 2! Take care :)

#levi x reader #snk levi #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #snk #moder au #modern au

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Louis

Rating: SFW Length: 1412 Pairing: Male Vampire Lover x Male Vampire Reader

For my sweet anon, who wanted domestic vampires.

xxx

“They’ll be gathering the pitchforks soon,” I say, chuckling as I peek through behind the curtains to the town at the bottom of our hill.

“Hm?” hums my lover, Louis—a statuesque man with hair and eyes as gold as a king’s crown. “Who, my love?”

“The townsfolk,” I impishly reply, coming away from the window to cross the room to where Louis sits, reading. I flounce my way onto his lap and he huffs his amusement, tossing his book onto the small table beside his winged chair and gathering me into his muscular arms.

“Do they whisper about us still?” he asks, smiling with his fangs on display.

“Always,” I say, tucking his hair away from his face and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

Louis hums his content, squeezing me gently. “Let them talk,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose down against mine in a bunny kiss. “What fault is it of mine that I didn’t know the old baker had died years ago?”

“It’s my fault for craving his fruit tarts after so many years,” I grumble, pouting; I was an excellent chef and baker in my own right, but some cooks kept their secrets guarded jealously, and I could never recreate that particular baker’s tarts to my satisfaction. “Do you think they’ll let me copy his recipe book now that he’s gone?”

“I’d gladly steal it for you,” says Louis, smiling softly and slowly in that way that lets me know he’s all about mischief.

“Louis! I’d never want to leave them without their tarts.”

My lover makes an irritable noise in the back of his throat. “Much more charitable than I,” he mutters, pressing kiss after sweet kiss to my lips. “I would deny them everything if it gave you what you wanted.”

“I know,” I giggle, squirming happily under his onslaught. “Because you love me.”

“Because I adore you,” he corrects, standing up and setting me daintily on my feet. “Because I worship you, the only man I consider my equal, my minx, my muse, my inspiration.”

“Flatterer,” I laugh, feeling myself flush with pleasure; he always knew how to make my heart flutter as gaily as a boy’s after all these years.

Louis takes my hands and kisses them, nipping at my knuckles with his sharp incisors. “It is all true,” he says, drawing me close just to spin me away from himself, but never too far away to reel me back in so that we dance chest to chest. “You are my recovery.”

This stirs my heart more than I can express. I remember a time when Louis was a tormented soul, feeding upon humans and starving himself in the times between, weak and trembling and pale. Now, we feed upon our healthy cattle and never to excess, and my lover is graceful and flushed beneath his golden skin. He moves with confidence instead of shame, and his magic comes to him quietly and steadily instead of being a wild and intemperate thing.

“Come downstairs and brush the girls with me,” I wheedle, trying to distract him from his amorous thoughts.

“In a moment,” he says, humming an old and beautiful tune as he takes me around the room. He’s watching me intently, and at my questioning look, he says, “Your eyes are the most beautiful colour I have ever seen, my sylph.”

I flush all the way down to my neck, biting my lower lip with my own fang. “They’re only brown,” I mumble, dismissive.

“They are like the finest red wine in the sunlight,” he insists, voice quiet and tone earnest. “Like burnt sugar and rich clay and all of what our flowers grow in.”

“Louis!” I say around my laughter, spluttering and shying away from him. “How silly you sound, you gilded god!”

Louis grins and kisses the inside of my wrist, up along my arm. “And you are my caramel dryad, whose very touch brings life.”

“Stop it, you goose egg!” I’m all a-titter, laughing like a vapid coquette. “Come downstairs and spend time with me outside of this stuffy library.”

“You decorated this library,” he reminds me, taking my arm and sweeping me out of the offending room.

“And I think it looks appropriately stuffy, like a library should,” I reasonably reply, feeling mischief making my old bones light and my steps airy. “Shall we tend to the garden together? The magnolias are in full bloom.”

“I know it,” he says, leading me down the stairs and through the old kitchens to the back yard. “I saw Matilda dozing beneath one earlier, with flowers on her horns.”

“Oh, I hope she births soon,” I murmur, anxiety fluttering in my chest.

Louis brings my hand up to kiss, nipping my knuckles sharply this time, to get my attention and turn my thoughts away from my fretting. “She’ll be fine. She’s done this once before.”

“Oh, I know,” I tut, mostly at myself, “but you know she’s my favourite.”

“Is she?”

“Don’t give me that look. Second to you, as always.”

“Hm.”

“Pouty baby.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“You’re pouting on the inside.”

“You can see inside of me? How exposing.”

“Only sometimes,” I say, linking my fingers between his as we walk down to where our cows are still grazing on pasture as the sun goes down. “Sometimes you’re like a wall, but the wall still has writing on it.”

“I should hope that you can read it, after 250 years.”

“Two-hundred fifty-three,” I smugly rectify, smiling up at my lover even as he rolls his eyes.

“Precisely,” says Louis, flashing a fang and squeezing my hand. He takes me to the shed where we pick up our tools, from brushes to hedge trimmers. Usually his magic would keep the grounds manicured, but I still love getting dirt under my nails and tending to my flowers. I’m lucky to have found a vampire so accommodating to my whims.

We share dinner together and I tell him about my day running around the estate, finding things that need doing and getting them done. There are still parts of the castle that are filled with dust and cobwebs after we moved in a decade ago, and I’m determined to bring them to light. Louis listens to me with interest and tells me of his business dealings with far-off merchants, which he’s been trying to include me in for a few generations. I’m finally coming around to the idea, despite being spiritually averse to mathematics and the thought of dealing with finances making me break out in hives.

“You’ll do marvellously,” Louis tells me, smiling at me from across our meal; it’s a human meal and it won’t sustain us, but the mushrooms are divine, if I do say so, myself.

I scoff, picking at the food in front of me. “You say that…”

“I mean it.”

“You need a head for finances if you’re to be a businessman.”

“Only if you deal with finances. I’ve long thought you would be a good businessman by charm and guile alone, regardless of your skill with maths.”

I cough around my wine, snorting softly. “That’s a very lovely way to say that I’d get by on looks alone.”

“You would not,” Louis snaps, tiring of my self-deprecation. “You are beautiful, yes, but clever besides, with an eye for business and a resourcefulness that kept you alive around me when I was at my worst. I will tolerate many things, my love, but down talk of yourself is something I will not.”

I avert my gaze, shamed and humbled all at once. “Even after all this time, I wonder why you—”

“Do not,” Louis firmly replies, pushing aside his plate and rising, “doubt my love for you. I would destroy this world and everything in it if it meant a better place for you to thrive.”

“Louis,” I sigh, allowing him to pull me up against his chest and nuzzling in at his broad chest. “I know it. I know it, my love. I’m sorry.”

“No,” murmurs Louis, kissing the top of my head and tucking me closer still. “Don’t apologise to me. Do better by yourself. That’s all that I ask.”

“I will,” I promise, looking up into his golden eyes and his fine, enigmatic features.

Louis smiles in the way that he only smiles for me, stroking along my back. “That is all that I ask,” he says again, and kisses me soundly.

#exophilia #gay exophilia #mlm exophilia #exophilia fic #monster romance #monster boyfriend #vampire boyfriend #vampires #Louis #I love Louis so much and he loves his darling with all his aching heart #My work

[ackermansupremacy]

Omg hii :3 i literally cant stop reading your posts they are all just ✨chefs kiss✨, especially the warrior kids ones🥺

Talking about the warrior kids.. I would absolutely LOVE to see your headcanons about them when they are like 15-16.

Omg wait thats such a cute idea how did i never think of that lmao

^ MY BOYS!!

Gabi

Gabi brought her middle school sports talent with her all the way to high school succeeding more and more with them

She doesn’t have a part time job because shes usually so busy with school, but she does sometimes teach kids self defense

She has straight A’s and amazing talent so shes shooting for college scholarships already

For her sixteenth birthday she got an old raggedy truck

And my God shes never been so grateful for anything in her entire life

Her car is her baby

She sometimes just sits in it and vibes for hours on end and does homework because she focuses better when shes completely alone

Or she picks the gang up and they go to terrorize the employees at the 7-11 like they did when they were kids

Falco

He still has the absolute biggest crush on Gabi even though he knows shes more focused on getting a head start on building her life than boys

He def works at a movie theater and absolutely hates his job

So he ended up quitting and getting his license asap to be pizza delivery guy

Which he deeply regrets because hes always terrified when he drives

Colt taught him how and he always yelled at him which made him nervous everytime he got behind the wheel with or without him

“Okay now put it in reverse...reverse...THATS NEUTRAL I SAID REVERSE!” “sorry!”

He is the most trusted in the friend group to drive Gabi’s car

Every summer he volunteers at his local nursing home :’) and they all love him

He makes his mom so proud bruh

Zofia

She def owns an etsy shop where she sells things like mushroom earrings and custom jewelry

Her store is pretty successful so that in itself is practically her full time job

But she volunteers at the library in her free time and sometimes joins Gabi in teaching self defense

She finally succeeded in painting all the walls in her room from top to bottom

And got the little sister she always wanted :’)

Her pet fish is still alive despite living like three years past the life expectancy

Zofia doesn’t even have her permit yet because shes failed the drivers test twice

But she does have a brand new car that shes never even driven

Udo

As a teen mans is the CEO of going with the flow

He works part time at a barista owned by a family friend and he loves his job

All the locals love him and never give him a hard time and he always memorizes his regulars orders

Hes probably doing duel enrollment at a college while hes in highschool and lowkey failing his classes LMAO

He finally finished writing one of the mystery novels he started as a kid and is planning on getting it published

He also takes guitar lessons from Falco now

He doesn’t have a car but he has his license and uses his moms or occasionally borrows Gabi’s

But he normally prefers to just walk everywhere

Ughh Udo never grow up 😭

Well my lil break is over now im back on that grind 🤪

Took a long time to cope with my lil birdie going to a better place but i can hear all his brothers and sisters chirping away in their nest which made my whole day ❤️✨

#aot #snk #gabi braun #gabi #aot gabi #snk gabi #snk falco #falco #aot falco #falco grice #aot zofia #snk zofia #zofia #snk udo #udo bock #udo #aot udo

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin's New Rain Date- Analysis

Finally was able to watch this new Gavin date, and of course, the gears in my brain started to turn and analyse then type out each individual sentence. I love how I will never look at MLQC content the same way ever again ever since I started Tumblr.

This analysis will heavily be referencing Gavin and MC’s high school history which I made a detailed timeline that you can read before moving onto this analysis.

Following the sound, I discovered a cardboard box in a corner of a wall along the street, with one white and one black kitten crammed within, looking up at me and meowing incessantly.

MC: “Are you guys hungry?”

I squatted down and took out a little packet of sealed cat food.

“You two share now, okay?”

Seeing the two cats tussling over what was apparently their first meal in a while, I couldn’t help but chuckle. I placed the umbrella on top of the cardboard box and prepared to get up and run to the metro station but the rain pattering down suddenly halted.

A shadow blocked out the sky over me. I looked up in surprise to see Gavin holding an umbrella.

Gavin: “So there you are.”

-

He started walking, and we proceeded shoulder to shoulder toward the metro station under the broad umbrella. The rain dripped and splashed everywhere. Suddenly, a scene from the past flashed in my mind, giving me a feeling of déjà vu.

MC: “This seems to have happened before.”

He turned to look at me, a flash of nostalgia in his eyes.

Gavin: “It has, actually.”

He looked at the falling rain and the shining street lights, and thought back to a long time ago when they first met. That was also a rainy day, lit up with the dim lamplight. The drizzle on the girl’s bangs blossomed into a neon glow the boy had never seen before. -New Rain Date

-

As he passed down by the alley, he saw a girl squatting at the corner like a mushroom. She didn’t have an umbrella, relying on a thin, rundown roof for shelter.

Gavin could hear sounds coming from the paper box. Confused, he paused in his steps. It turned out to be a little kitten.  

The girl’s clothes and hair were already drenched from the rain and running down along the side of her face, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. The kitten, with a handkerchief covering it, would meow occasionally .

The girl chuckled softly and said, “are you hungry?”

At that moment, Gavin had thought the girl was asking that question to herself. She retrieved snacks from her bag and opened it, feeding it to the kitten.

The drizzle that accompanied the dim street lamps along the roadside, fell on the tips of the girl’s hair. A rainbow he had never seen before then appears. For an inexplicable reason, for a long time Gavin had stood there until the girl had turned back.

She looked at Gavin in astonishment, not knowing how he had been standing at the opening of the alley.

Water droplets dropped continuously onto Gavin drenching his light-coloured fringe on in front of his forehead. A few seconds passed, and the girl’s astonishment changed into a clear smile, warming into Gavin’s heart without permission.

Gavin frustrated kicked away a can near his feet. He then hurriedly removed his jacket, covering it over the girl’s head. He heard a faint “thank you!” from behind when he had gone.

Gavin ran in the rain, his white shirt fully drenched. In the eyes of that girl, Gavin had a different colour when compared to the tales told about him. -CN Tilted Time Rumours and Secrets

Just from a couple of sentences, we can make out a lot of parallels. I love how in MLQC, the writers make the effort for the storyline and events to juxtapose certain parts, as well. From here, we can also highlight new concepts, too.

On the first rainy day of high school, MC encounters a hungry kitten in a box and feeds it. At the exact moment, Gavin sees her for the first time. After a while, MC turns and smiles at him. In response to this, he takes off his own school jacket and drapes it over her head to shelter her from the rain. He runs off.

Similarly, in the New Rain Date, on a rainy day after work, MC sees two cats in a box and feeds them. Once Gavin sees her, he approaches her to shelter her with his umbrella, and she turns to smile at him. He smiles back. They both leave together.

In addition to the parallels, we can denote specific uses of symbolism that has been established.

The most first and most obvious one- rain. Rain is the symbol of renewal and rebirth. It’s the “washing away of the old” and “regrowing something better”. Without rain, you can’t grow flowers, right? In this context, rain represents the growing pain but also the beauty of life.

Gavin with the umbrella reinforces the physical idea sheltering her from the rain, but he also wants to protect her literally and metaphorically from any danger or any hardship. Like before back then in high school, he gives her his jacket to protect her from the rain- from being drowned like him. But this time, they are under shelter of the umbrella, together. As well of course, not to mention that he gave her his jacket this time around and found her in it, too.

Even within the date title, “New Rain”, we can also apply the contrast between back when they were in high school and where they are currently. The “old rain” would showcase the ideas of being with someone after waiting for them. This concept is what Gavin and MC both discuss, symbolic to their relationship because it unknowingly reminds them of how they were before. This develops into a higher understanding from reflecting, therefore catalyses the “new rain”.

I flipped through pages and stopped at one-

“All this time, I’ve been waiting for you to knock at this door and join me out of the rain.”

The delicate handwriting in blue ink was now a bit blurred. I couldn’t resist wondering what the story was behind the entry.

Gavin: “What are you reading?”

MC: “It seems to be a tale of unrequited love.”

I showed Gavin the entry in the guest book, and after reading it, a confused look came over him.

Gavin: “What makes you think that?”

MC: “Love is just like a sudden storm. One of them was out in the rain, wanting to knock on the door but hesitating. The other was waiting inside for a knock that never came.”

Gavin: “What do you think became of them?”

MC: “Perhaps the more you like someone, the more hesitant you are?”

Gavin: “But maybe at the end of the story, they were together.”

MC states that love comes expectantly, with the knock of intrusion to bring a house of cards down. You never know until it happens on hindsight- that the person is exactly what you want and need.

“It’s she who told me I could live a stronger life. And it’s she who told me I could live a more tender life.” -Spring Festival Date

Gavin had a tough upbringing contrasted to MC, with Gavin noting that she had a very pure look in her eyes when he first met her.

It is certain that MC (thankfully) hadn’t experienced when Gavin had back in his age, and although Gavin who had thought to be “damaged goods” to others, was willing to put that past him and take a chance with MC. Therefore, wanting to experience life- everything that it has to offer- together.

Upon flipping to a certain page, a familiar handwriting once again appeared before me. A simple sentence was written in the white space on the page. “It’s sunshine after rain. We’re together.”

-

MC: “Gavin, after you left, I read through the guest book some more and found the ending. They were together after all!”

Gavin: “Then one of them must have opened that door first.”

MC: Right. But if they had poured their hearts to each other from the beginning, then they wouldn’t have had to wait so long, would they?”

Gavin: “Maybe that person wasn’t afraid of knocking on the door. Maybe there was some other reason.”

His words made me think of that blood-stained letter, and the leaving without saying goodbye- or so I’d thought. The figure of someone waiting in a library seemed to form in front of me.

Again, MC had wondered “why couldn’t they confess?” almost like how people may have thought Gavin had every opportunity to confess to MC in high school.

But, the fact is, he really didn’t. Extrinsic forces, such as his father, his Evol and keeping MC safe from a distance had stopped him, or rather what MC further states, “perhaps the more you like someone, the more hesitant you are,” hesitated instead, because Gavin cannot fathom risking MC for absolutely anything at all. That is, until when he ran out of time and wrote the letter to her.

MC: “But if the rain had stopped, they would have missed it. If it was you, what would you do?”

Gavin paused. His hand holding the jacket stopped on my shoulder, while the other wipe away a bead of water from my face.

Gavin: “I would wait in the rain forever.”

He stared deeply into my eyes, and for moment I got the feeling that he wasn’t just speaking from hypotheticals. The feeling gave me an unexplainable hurtful sensation, and the rain continued to fall.

MC: “But the rain would stop in the end.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” This time he spoke without hesitation.

Gavin: “And if it did, I would wait for it to start raining all over again.”

The thing is, he really would wait for however long for her. He would persevere through life’s pains for her. He would be there time and time again to shelter her. He would go through all of it again just to meet her once more. SOBS SOBS SOBS

His calloused fingertip slipped from my cheek to my lip, bringing my breath to a halt for a second.

“Because there will never be another person like her.”

He caressed my bottom lip, and I could feel his warm breath clearly across my cheek. At seem point, my hand worked its way up to the side of his neck, an uncontrollable urge to get closer.

“Only you can find the real Gavin. Before meeting you, no one has ever entered his heart, because no one had ever reached it before. Only one person has ever broken though.”

Finally, his kiss fell upon my lips, along with a sightly chill wetness and that scent that only Gavin, had, taking my senses by storm. There was an emotion in his smouldering eyes that made my heart skip a heart, but it only scratched the surface, not going further.

The kiss was over in a moment, and only his scorching body heat still lingered distinctively on my lips.

“Now, I’ve knocked on the door.”

Without saying a word, I slipped my arm around Gavin’s neck and pulled him close, then closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. Gavin froze, and his breath was immediately thrown off rhythm. But the next second, his hand was pressing the back of my hand, not giving me the chance to back out.

Perhaps… before you knocked on the door, I had already walked into the storm, to stand by your side.

The rain seemed without end. And we waited in the rain, for when the sun would shine again.

They’re willing to go through life’s pains in order to be with each other and live through the happiness they created together. MC fully accepts him the way he is, and instead of being under his protection, she’s willing to fight for him, beside him.

#mlqc #love and producer #恋与制作人 #mr love queens choice #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc cn #mlqc en #mlqc gavin #gavin

[ridetherain]

Oof, it's been a while. I just haven't had any luck lately. I've been working on a new idea and I like it, but getting the words out of my head has been like pulling teeth! This is something completely different because I needed a break.

Community Garden

Words: 1664

Zelda let out a sigh at the gentle sound of wind chimes. The breeze was light and pleasantly cool in the heat of the Hyrule summer. It was good to get out of the stuffy castle and into nature, however artificial a community garden really was. Little plots were spread out in a wild array of liveliness with greenery springing from most boxes and a notable few browning and wilting. It was safe enough that Impa stayed at the entry gate and Zelda was granted the gift of solitude. Gravel crunched under her feet as she walked down the rows and ducked under a particularly vivacious bush growing spicy peppers. Another gardener was humming an aimless tune from several aisles away and the melody got Zelda whistling along gently.

She came to a stop at her two raised beds strung together with a fine netting material. Her samples of safflina were happily growing in one box where she planned to attempt crossbreeding them to produce a new variation of the plant. The second box was divided in two with sunshrooms taking the northern half and swift violets filling the southern. Zelda slipped on her worn pair of gloves and knelt at her experimental box. She gently picked all the little weeds that had grown since she last tended the garden and swayed in time to her little whistle. It was a beautiful day. She pulled out a small paintbrush and gently began hand-pollinating her safflinas. She kept her journal close and marked down the number of flowers painted with pollen on each plant. With any luck she would get a hybrid variant that could produce elixirs with dual properties. Thus far it has been considered impossible, but no one had tried to cross breed the ingredients. However, it was also possible that she would emerge with an entirely different effect. Pioneering a brand new elixir type would certainly ease the sting of failure on the dual property front.

After the pollination was complete, Zelda turned to her mushrooms. They were thriving happily in their thick compost bed. A stray weed or two were quickly pulled. Soon she would be travelling to the Spring of Power and wading into the frozen waters for a chance at her birthright. She had planted the sunshrooms for these trips and with a sad change to her whistle she pulled two from the rich soil and packed them away for later. It seemed unlikely that she would be successful at the spring, but at least she wouldn't freeze. Her knight had been quite cross (for him) when she had caught cold during their last trip to the spring. She was out of sync now with the happy meandering sound emanating from beyond her little plots, but she couldn't bring herself to match the happy sound.

Last she turned to the violets. There was no purpose to these. She had no need for an elixir to increase her speed. Even under the influence of such a drug she was unlikely to outpace much of anything. Most lizalfos were fast enough to kill her before she even knew to run and the Yiga could teleport. Even her own appointed knight was fast enough that she wouldn't be able to outrun him. Really, Zelda didn't know why she didn't just visit the official royal gardens to see pretty flowers. Professional gardeners took the time to grow violets that were nearly twice the size of her little plant and sculpted to a shape pleasing to the eye. There was something charming about the lopsided way her flowers decided to grow though. They leaned away from the small overhang strung over the mushrooms and only bloomed at the top third where the most light was available. Her mother used to love misshapen flowers. When Zelda was very, very small they used to sneak into the gardener's shed and steal away plants that had been discarded from the main gardens. They would put them in pots and nurse them back to health as best they could from the little balcony off of Zelda's bedroom. The Queen would say that the flowers just needed someone to love them. After she died, Zelda had all the pots removed and set up a prayer mat in their place.

Now, her flowers weren't so illicit and they had never stolen violets so it wasn't the same, but a melancholy tune drifted out of her anyway. Sitting in the fragrance of the violets felt the same as when she and her mother would sit and inspect their contraband in the warm evening summers of her childhood. With a sigh, she made her way over to the water pump with a big watering can and let out an internal sigh when she realized that the happy humming gardener had stopped humming. No doubt she had driven it away with her melancholic response. She plunked her can down at the pump and worked the heavy handle until water was easily flowing into her container and it was as full as she was able to carry.

Zelda straightened from the pump at the sound of footfalls making their way closer and closer. She put on her best Princess-Meeting-Peasant face for the humming gardener.

"Link?!" Zelda said incredulously, "What are you doing here?"

He gave her a wide-eyed look then looked down at himself and back up to her. He was in ragged brown breeches with the start of holes forming around the knees and a threadbare linen shirt that was untied at the top. He looked like nothing so much as a poor farmer. He even had the broad hat that was ubiquitous in the Hyrule Fields. Nothing about him looked like the straight-laced soldier she was familiar with or even like the relaxed Royal Champion he pretended to be for the crowds. He was uniquely bland in these comfortable, worn clothes and intricate, but common woven basket full of vegetables and herbs draped over his arm.

"Harvesting, Your Highness," He said. Link was kind enough not to add "obviously" to his response. He glanced down at her watering can on the ground and stepped close to her. He offered his basket and lifted the watering can easily with his other arm in one fluid motion. The basket was lightweight and had a very comfortable handle which had been worn flat and smooth from long-use. Link must have been gardening here long before he became her knight.

"Which way, Princess?"

She gave him an uncertain smile, but nevertheless led the way back to her little sanctuary. He bore the water to the entry and stepped back out after relieving her of her burden. He stood awkwardly for several moments, observing her careful watering of the recently pollenated safflinas, delicate touch on the life-saving mushrooms, and comparatively haphazard handling of the violets.

"Violets are my favorite," Link said, breaking their silence. "I'm surprised to see you growing them."

"I like them too," Zelda said simply, "They're pretty. Do you keep them as well?"

"Not here, but my mother grows them at my home in Hateno. She has flowers in as many colors as she can get. It's always beautiful. I just grow food." He gestured to the basket on his arm.

"Not enough food in Castle Town for your appetite?" Zelda let a teasing note color her tone and Link blushed scarlet in response.

"Never."

Link smiled a real smile at her. "Why violets instead of silent princesses? They're your favorites aren't they?"

Zelda shook her head, "They're difficult to grow. I just wanted something to enjoy," She paused and cast about for something to prolong the conversation, "Looks like you're preparing for a meal. Got someone special you're cooking for, or are you hoping for a good meal before our next journey forces us back on rations and forage?"

For some reason the question caused him to turn a deeper shade of red than her teasing really called for.

"No, nobody special - I mean, she's special, but it's not - I mean, yes I'm cooking for someone but we're not - I'm not, you know, special to her..." He petered off into an embarrassed sigh and ducked his head into his habitual uncomfortable neck scratch. Zelda gave him a strained smile to let him know that she wasn't going to tease him any further.

"No doubt you will charm your way into your special lady's heart in no time. I have yet to find a woman in Castle Town that isn't at least half in love with you. Once you round out your prospects with a homecooked meal I doubt she will be able to resist. Very few men can boast protection, charm, and domestic skills." Zelda tried to keep the envy out of her tone. She would give anything to have a suitor as accomplished as Link vying for her favor.

"That's kind of you to say," Link said in a self-deprecating tone, "But I'm afraid she wouldn't look twice at me. And even if she did, she's discovered my faults."

"Oh, no," Zelda said with a wicked smile, "You've told her one of your awful puns haven't you!"

"Many."

"For shame, Link! Let me see what you have in that basket. You'll need something special to make up for it!" She leaned forward and dug through the pile of vegetables before finding a few wildberries at the bottom, "Ah, ha! Make the lady a dessert. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I can assure you that it works on women too." She gives him a saucy wink that seems to shock him.

He tries for nonchalance, but still only managed a stammered "Yes, Princess." Zelda retrieved her own basket of sunshrooms and hooked her hand into the red-faced Link's arm and nearly dragged him out of the garden and back into the real world. Somehow she was back to whistling the happy tune Link had started.

#loz botw #fic #botw #rainworks #zelink #or not I guess #pre-zelink? #kinda sad #soft #i have a part 2 idea but idk if I'm going to write it

[youarejesting]

Lost Boys

[Full Masterlist]

Rating: All Pairing: BTSxReader Genre: Supernatural, thriller, psychological, angst, cute nature boys, symbolism, trigger warnings: abandonment, mature, fantasy, supernatural, and character death. Words: 2.2k

Summary: Bangtan Forest was said to be evil, stealing children and anyone who got lost. Some say it was attacking the humans. You don’t think much of scary campfire stories, that is until the rocks and trees come alive.

Aisles of high tech camping gear had you in awe. You even thought about a new sleeping bag but, it just seemed like a waste. There was nothing wrong with the sleeping bag you already had and to buy a new one to use once a year was not worth the money. 

Grabbing the mosquito repellent you headed to the counter. Your friends were carrying emergency lights and flares standing in line behind you ready to make their purchases. “Good morning, just these?” The young girl smiled, she was deep in her role of customer service, which you totally respected.

“Uh... yeah and um, one of these please” You placed the emergency whistle onto the counter, it was plastic and only cost fifty cents.

“Of course, is that on the card today?” She continued talking and you smiled nodding holding up the card, stepping to the other side to pay. Taking your things, there wasn’t much left for you in the shop. That is until you heard something interesting. 

“There was another landslide by Bangtan Forest, it can’t seem to let anyone get close,” An old man said to another, “Luckily no one was hurt or went missing this time.”

The drive was beautiful and the radio played nothing but summer hits, you were singing along with the others, they were your closest of friends. Lillia was a sweet young lady, she loved nature and had a particularly soft spot for mushrooms. She brought her camera and expected to take some cool shots over the course of the weekend.

You were looking forward to going wild, not like partying wild. No, more like, sitting in the dirt, lighting fires, and splashing around in a river. That was your paradise, your escape. Having almost screamed into the phone when the suggestion of camping was brought up. If it got you out of your house and out of your life for a moment, you would take it.

The camping grounds were pretty, you passed a sign on your way in that had a lot of warning pictures but you didn’t have time to read them all. The only one you saw was to put out your fires entirely before you leave, which honestly felt like common knowledge, and if you didn’t know that you shouldn’t go camping alone. Forest fires were not a joke.

Finding a place to pitch a tent was hard, a lot of the really shady spots were taken but there was a really beautiful spot by the river. According to Jester, your know-it-all friend, the river spread through the whole of the forest intricately like a spider web. “Because of the river the vegetation inside is thick, people say as you walk the vines grow around you and if you stop, you will be buried under the vegetation.”

“I heard that bad person used to leave their kids behind, and the forest took them in and that if ever you are lost or left behind the forest takes you,” Lillia said lowering her sweet voice trying to be serious. “There was a story, of a class field trip of kids were pulled off the trail and they were never seen again. They say the forest is evil.”

“I heard it protects the kids because they are left alone.” Jester contradicted and Lillia nodded pointing at the other. Nodding in agreement as she ate a slice of orange.

“I heard that too,” She smiled “I like that idea, that the forest just is a home taking care of the children left behind.”

As if ominously on cue the three of you had heard giggling coming from across the river. But it was drowned out by laughing and cheering from up the river, another group was splashing around and soon you all joined. 

The two groups became friends and it was fun, but it started to rain, nothing extreme just a light drizzle. You had dinner early and hoped into your tents. You were alone in yours as there was supposed to be another person on the trip but they couldn’t make it due to a family event.

It didn’t take long until you were fast asleep to the sound of the rain. You don’t know how long you were asleep for when you woke up suddenly a sting in your chest, shaking that aside you heard crying. 

Getting a little scared you poked your head outside the tent and saw a child running from one of the tents in the park to the water. He was calling for his mother and moving for the forest begging his mother to come back and you wondered if the mum had been taken or went to the toilet. Either way, this child was running straight into the forest.

Lost or left behind the forest takes you, you thought back on those words, The forest is evil. 

Every other thought left your head and your primary objective was to save the child, you began running, your body felt like you were moving through cement. That’s how thick the plant life was, you had a stitch in your side after a mere five minutes of sprinting but you kept pushing until suddenly the child hopped across the rocks and curled up and he was gone, in his place was a Pinecone.

You hopped across the rocks careful not to get your feet wet, you had slipped on your sneakers and you didn’t want to walk back to camp with them wet. Speaking of camp, you were lost and the child you were following had disappeared and left in his place a pinecone.

Stepping up to the small pinecone, you pocket it and it wiggled around in the dirt letting out a chorus of childish laughter. Shaking with giggles in the corner of your eyes was a small pile of leaves, you were looking around breathing heavily and freaking out. 

As you were frozen in place in shock and trying to catch a glimpse of someone playing a trick you felt something entwine around your legs. You shrieked jumping and ripping your feet free from the vines that started to grow around your shoes.

“Alright, boy’s you had your fun, go play with the other kids your age,” A voice said, you were relieved finally someone had revealed themselves it was just an elaborate plank until a decent sized boulder began to move, it was like camouflage, and from the curled up position a human stood up and straightened out. “Can’t a rock get some sleep around here?”

“Come on, Yoongi you are no fun?” a voice said from your left, you looked trying to find where the voice was coming from and you smiled seeing the moss open its eyes and step away from the tree making you shriek. 

They were people camouflaged perfectly to appear like trees and rocks. They were strange-looking and you weren’t sure if this was some weird dream or if it was real. The more you looked the stranger they appeared. Some of their features were replaced with other things.

“I am starting to solidify more and more” the rock man who may be the one the other referred to as Yoongi muttered and a Berry Bush wiggled itself free from the ground and he walked over helping the rock man stretch.

“A log pulled itself up off the ground and stretched with the creak of old wooden furniture and gave a low groan. This distracted you from the movement behind you. 

“We have been getting bored on our own, but it is nice to have a friend visit,” A voice said, and when you turned you saw a man covered in mushrooms, his head was topped by a big mushroom that made him look like he was wearing a bucket hat. You almost laughed at the insanity.

“Ahhh, it is so nice to be free” A sapling wiggled until its roots or in this case feet were free. 

“Where is Jin?” The logman asked and they all looked around. The pile of leaves and the pinecone wiggled around until children appeared gesturing to a nearby meadow.

“Thank you Hyuning, Yeonjun” The mushroom guy smiled and they began hopping over the river using the rocks, The sapling grinned waving you to follow.

“If you stay too long the vines will start wrapping around you again, I am Jungkook” He smiled, along the way they all introduced themselves and you had to admit this was the oddest and trippiest meeting you ever had.

“There he is,” Taehyung called and Seokjin who they had told you about on the way had appeared lifting himself off the grounds his body covered in sweet flowers. “What were you doing out here?”

“I was trying to get some sleep but someone was snoring” He stretched ignoring the snickering from Jungkook who said he was probably up late with the kids playing games. “Who is this?”

“Oh, this is…” Namjoon said and froze, “I am sorry, we didn’t get your name?”

“Oh my name is Y/n” you smiled and they nodded 

“We are helping Y/n get out of the forest,” Jimin said puffing his chest out his leaves rustling. It was so odd to see these people dressed like they were in some school play, like tree number one and rock number three. 

“It’s no rush, just as long as I get out at some point,” You said trying to ease their worried expressions.

No, you don’t get it if you are still here when the sunrises, you will be stuck in the forest forever.” Yoongi said, “We are all here for a reason, Namjoon has been in the forest the longest, he used to be a tree before he fell.”

“Well, maybe we should hurry,” You said looking at the vines trying to wrap around your feet once more. “I have to keep moving these vines really are aggressive when it comes to wanting to keep me here.”

Along the way the boys began talking, each telling their story. Namjoon said he was from 1761 and he was left there by his mother who could no longer feed him after his father died. “I was nineteen and very sick so I didn’t last very long. But, it wasn’t long until I met Jin he was twenty-one and got lost in the forest.”

“I was collecting flowers for my fiancee I was supposed to be getting married shortly and well, I never even got to meet hurt.” Seokjin smiled, continuing on the storytelling from Namjoon and explaining his experience “I was kind of wishing I would get lost, I was so young and didn’t want to get married to a stranger.”

“I think it was 1892 and I was about twenty as well, I had run away from home, I remember stealing food from town and whilst escaping ran into the forest and I never came back out.” He shrugged, keeping his story concise as he helped you step over a fallen tree, “life as a rock is peaceful.”

“I was part of a traveling circus and well it wasn’t a good living, the people were awful and beat you if you spoke, one of the performers had a grudge for me so I hid in the forest and when I tripped the vines grew over me quickly” Hoseok made hand gestures at you making you giggle and move away from him, you bumped into Jimin who caught you before you fell. “That was maybe 1901 and I was about nineteen”

“I can’t remember much, I remember being really drowsy in a car and being told to wait while my father got some juice, I was about eighteen and he didn’t come back. The forest called me inside.” Jimin frowned slightly.

“I was hiking and I lost my way following a pretty butterfly,” Taehyung pouted, “I didn’t mean to get lost and I wish I had paid attention, I just wanted to take a picture.”

‘For me, it was not too long ago, a class excursion, we were following the trail and a bully dropped my hat in the river I chased after it and before I knew it I didn’t know where they had gone. I was seventeen.” Jungkook said with a smile that looked somewhat forced. “But it’s not all bad. I have made some really great friends.”

“And who else would play with the little ones. So many children got left in the forest much younger than us.” Seokjin explained sadly.

You saw the forest thinning out and flashes of red and blue flickered through the trees, you stepped out to the edge to see police and ambulances and more, there was a landslide. It was at your campsite, you froze looking around spotting your friends sitting in the back of the ambulance. 

The vines were wrapping around your feet but you ripped them free, “it was nice meeting you thank you” You said, and placing the whistle between your lip you blew hard.

“We found her!” a voice shouted, you gave up on cautiously hopping rocks and went running across the river. When your foot touched the water you fell your shoes had disappeared as had your legs and from your waist down you were nothing but water. You looked up trying to drag yourself out to see your friends when you saw them carry your body out of the mud on a gurney.

You could never leave the forest but as the river flowed throughout you could visit all the residence inside.

If you enjoyed this story don’t forget to Like | Reblog so others can enjoy it too.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts x reader #bts fic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts supernatural #bts fantasy au #bts supernatural au #bts fantasy #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jin x reader #suga x reader #jhope x reader #najoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Fantasy AU! Dragon Master! Katsuki Bakugou X Witch! Reader: Hot Damn, Dragon Man~!

(Description: I don’t think anyone has written a story like this before with this particular backstory, but if someone has please let me know right away! With that out of the way, this was just a fun little idea I had that I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing! Also, I aged up both Bakugou and Kirishima in this story to around their early 20s, though this isn’t really important or relevant to the fic, an adult, hunky Bakugou and Kirishima is a treat I think we should all indulge in~! I might make a Part 2 to continue the story depending on how you all like it, but we’ll see! I hope you enjoy and thank you for your time. // PS: Quirks still exist in my version of the Fantasy AU! //)

~

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

(H/C) - Hair Color

(E/C) - Eye Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Requester: No One!

Reader Gender: Female (She/Her)

Style of Story: Aiming for a multiparter, but who knows! // Fantasy AU! Hope you’re as excited as I am!

Word Count: 6.4K Words

WARNING(s) / NOTE(s): Aged up characters but this story is NOT NSFW, Quirks still exist, cursing (it’s Bakugou in a fantasy world, he’s going to call you some offensive stuff), and a little bit of blood but no real harm is done to (Y/N)!

~

“Man, I have got to work on my cardio! Ughh…,” you huffed out as you took the last few steps to be on top of the hill you had just hiked up. Stopping for the air you desperately needed, you sat down on the mossy ground below and leaned against a nearby tree, taking deep breaths. As your previously foggy brain became clear again, you noticed the purples and pinks of the dawning sky peaking through the tree’s leaves and smiled, springtime weather had always been your favorite kind. The dewy mornings, sunny afternoons, and clear nights were always a welcome change to the drab winter days. Though, being a Green Witch did make you favor specific seasons more than others.

“Sorry, my lord Hades, but I must admit that I’m a little happy your lovely wife is back with her mother again. Nothing can compare to the plants and herbs that grow back in the Spring. Though, do not fret, my lady Persephone will be back with you sooner than you think.” you spoke to the stillness of the forest, but you felt their presence and knew your gods heard your message.

Looking in your wooden basket, you inventoried the goods you had collected near your secret cove to harvest ingredients. You found the cove three summer’s ago while looking for shelter from a storm that rolled in quicker than expected. You were lost and couldn’t find your way home but the kind nymphs that lived in the area offered you a place to stay that night. In exchange for them sheltering you, you made them a few miscellaneous potions as payment (even though they hadn’t asked for any). Ever since that day, you have been friends with them and are allowed to freely take any of the resources that grow in the area with their permission and in turn you trade them any potions or spells they ask for. Of course you’ve found other places to harvest rarer ingredients for specific creations, but with such a bountiful place so close to your home it is your go-to spot.

“Wicker mushrooms, a bunch of Lavender, Yarrow, Thrumdells, could always use more mint sprigs, Merryquil, Heron’s feathers, I have the mermaid’s bubbles and crystals at home...I think that’ll about do it! Great haul today, (N/N)!” you praised as you set down your basket and stood up. You brushed off your flowy, (F/C) ankle-length skirt and smoothed out your poofy shirt and cloak, straightened the potion holder belt strapped to your hip, picked the basket back up, and continued on the path back to your cottage hidden deep within the forest.

“What should I make for dinner? Zeks enjoys sweet things but I don’t know if Zazel--!” Without warning, a booming roar shook the leaves off the trees, causing you to stumble back in shock. You shot your hand on the dagger strapped to your belt while your eyes darted back and forth through the surrounding terrain, trying to locate where the sound had come from and if there was any immediate danger near you. Shortly after the cry, a loud crash sounded like something smacked the ground hard and caused a tremor that knocked you clean off your feet with a yelp. The shaking lasted for only a moment before everything went still once more as if nothing out of the ordinary had even occurred.

Still in shock from the bizarre situation, you sat on the grass for a little longer, listening to the oddly quiet atmosphere, before another cry shot through the hush of the land and nearly scared you out of your boots. Though, instead of what you thought was ferocity in its tone, it seemed closer to a wail of pain than anything. You stood on shaky legs and took deep breaths while staring into the distance where the noise came from. You wanted to turn around and run to the safety of your home, to go back to the warmth of your cottage and just pretend that this whole instance never happened, but something was pulling you towards the creature. Maybe it was the whines and whimpers that it made, the curiosity caused by something that could make lands quake with the strength of its voice but instantly become like a meek puppy was truly intriguing, but that wasn’t quite it. Maybe you wanted to check if anyone had been hurt by the monstrosity but that didn’t seem right either.

You let out a quiet gasp as one thought in particular struck your mind...could it be...Fate? You cursed yourself, wishing you had brought your tarot cards to check for any possible signs, but you didn’t have time for that right now. You considered your options; be a coward and leave whatever the hell just fell out of the sky alone, abandoning it to most likely die, ignoring the call of Fate, and continuing about your day or appeasing that pesky gut feeling, finding the beast, and seeing what was the matter.

You growled as your legs began to move toward the epicenter of the sound, hating how you can never turn down someone in need of help.

~

~ Timeskip to a short while later ~

~

“Where in the fresh hell is that stupid beast?!” you cursed as you trudged through the spongy moss and bushes covering the forest floor. After running for a bit in the direction you had thought you heard the wail come from you had found no evidence of anything out of the ordinary which pissed you off to no end.

“You couldn’t shut your trap earlier, why are you having such a hard time now?” you mumbled to yourself, pushing past a few bushes in your way. Your next few sassy words became caught in your throat as you heard a low growl erupt a few yards away from you behind the bush directly to the right of you. Suppressing your urge to scream in surprise, you composed yourself and poked your head through the shrubbery, only for your jaw to drop at the sight before you.

An enormous creature was laying on its side in the middle of a small clearing of trees, peacefully sleeping in the early morning sunshine. Its horned head and long neck were stretched out while the rest of its body curled around itself in a cocoon like position. The beast took steady breaths, its lungs filling up and stretching its stomach to show off the breath-taking, fiery red scales that coated its entire body. The tail lay still wrapped around the body and reminded you fondly of a litter of kittens your old master cared for. But probably the most beautiful part of all were the magnificent wings that draped over the serpent’s body like a protective barrier from the outside world. You saw the muscles of the appendages and knew that this creature was not one to be messed with. Right there, such a short distance away, was what you could only describe as a humongous, red dragon!

You couldn’t believe it, you almost wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were really awake but you ignored the feeling in favor of watching the sleeping beast in awe. Sure, everyone around knew that dragons existed and heard the legends about them, but it wasn’t like you got to see them very often. The kingdom to the South was well known for its coexistence with dragons but rarely anyone except those in a higher position of power or people who lived in the tribes actually got to see and interact with them.

Judging by the diagrams you had seen drawn of dragons, you guessed that it wasn’t extremely old based on its size and bodily markings, making it less of a threat. As you examined more it led you to notice the reason for the creature’s moans of pain. A huge gash was carved on the right side of the dragon’s chest, dripping with fresh blood. It was so deep that you could actually see bits of the beast’s rib cage. Wincing at the sight, you inspected further and saw the scales surrounding the wound were a contrasting dark black to the shiny red ones all over the body, almost like they had been scorched by a tremendous flame. Either way, if the serpent did not receive some kind of immediate help with that large of a wound, it would surely bleed out within the next few hours or somehow be injured even more. After contemplating, you sent a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and shuffled your way out of the bushes and into the open for the creature to easily see you.

You expected that such a powerful beast in this state of physical distress would not let its guard down so easily, so when its golden eyes shot open to glare at you with its teeth bared in snarl you were not in the least bit startled. You smiled sweetly at the dragon, lowered yourself closer to the ground, set your things down, and averted your gaze as to not cause it anymore stress or let it think you were challenging it. You kept your hand visible as you reached for the knife on your waist, even as the beast hissed at your movements, and threw it far away from your reach to show respect.

“Hey there! I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help,” you spoke loud and clear so it could hear you, but even if it didn’t understand your language you still wanted to get your point across, “I heard you fall awhile ago, that must have hurt, huh? I came to check up on you, see if you were okay, but then I happened to notice that nasty gash in your side and figured you needed my help!” you gulped with the smile still on your face. You heard another growl before it was cut off by a sharp whimper of agony and that noise alone made your heart drop to your stomach. The smile on your face faded into a frown but you quickly perked back up and continued.

“I promise, I just want to check out that wound and get you healed up. Help you get back in the air again. Please, I don’t want to have to leave you to suffer like this.” you finished as you looked back at the dragon with a desperate look in your eye. The dragon wasn’t snarling or glaring at you anymore, which was definitely a good sign, but as you looked deeper in its eyes it was almost like you could feel the pain radiating off of it. After a brief moment of hesitation, the beast lowered its head back down to the ground in defeat, a sign for you to come closer. You gratefully smiled and picked your things back up, got up, and scurried on over.

When you got close enough to where you could press your palm flat to the warm scales and feel its strong heartbeat, you kneeled and examined the bloodied gash. You first ran your fingers along the outskirts of the wound and the dark marks smudged onto your fingertips and palm, confirming that the dragon had been severely burned by something or someone. The actual slash was about five feet long and two feet wide that dug deep into the body, like something had pierced it rather than just nicked it. You looked closer at the blood dripping from the injury and noticed pine needles stuck in the dragon’s flesh, not just on the surface but deep in the wound as well.

You gasped and looked up at the beast who was already gazing down at it with you to ask, “Did you hit a tree during the fall?” The serpent nodded its head with discomfort and flopped it back down onto the soft grass. A pitiful sigh slipped from your mouth as you explained what you were going to do now knowing it could understand you.

“Okay, first off we need to get these pesky pine needles out of the wound. Then, I need to slow the bleeding and somehow dress it. I do have the right ingredients on me to make you a healing cream but I do not know how I can…,” you stopped and glanced at the cloak draped from your shoulders and smiled, “I know! I’ll use my cloak to soak up the blood!” The dragon shot its head up in alarm and looked at you with a gaze of what seemed to be guilt. You tilted your head in confusion before looking at the cloak now in your hand, back to the saddened serpent, and connected the two together with a laugh.

“Oh, are you worried about dirtying this old thing? Pssh, don’t even concern yourself! It's to help you survive, so it's being used for the greater good either way! Between you and me, I was planning on treating myself to a new one anyways, so who cares if a little blood gets on it!” you joked, trying to calm the dragon’s nerves. You washed your hands with the clean water from your canteen strapped to your hip and shook them dry.

“Let’s do this!” you cheered, readying yourself for the crazy afternoon ahead of you.

~

~ Another timeskip to later in the afternoon ~

~

“I must say, you are certainly one of the best patients I’ve ever had, my scaly friend! You’ve been so good letting me take out all those nasty needles and clean away the charcoal and blood from your pretty scales! Thank you for being so sweet.” you praised, scratching the dragon’s chin, behind his horns, and belly as he let out happy grumbles and chitters (Dragon Kiri LOVES belly scritches, and you cannot convince me otherwise) at your kind words. His head was now curled up next to you, watching you clean and disinfect his wound with the utmost care, with him enjoying the pets he got every time you hit a sensitive area or made him hiss from the pain.

You were diligently working at patting away the blood with your now sopping cloak, trying to cease the liquid dripping out of the dragon. As you worked, you made sure to give the creature lots of encouraging strokes and belly rubs to help ease the pain, but whether it was more to help it through this endeavor or to get to pet a living dragon was uncertain. Either way, the job was getting done, and so far no big issues from either party.

Yet.

“Awesome! It looks like the blood flow has slowed down a lot now. Thank the Gods, I don’t know how much more my poor coat could have taken,” you joked while setting the crimson-soaked material to the side, “Now, I’ve got the healing cream prepared for you but how the hell am I going to bandage--AH!” you shrieked as you were suddenly shoved away from the dragon and thrown further back into the field.

You heard the beast let out a concerned roar as your back met the dirt ground with a loud THUD that knocked the wind right out of your lungs. You closed your eyes in pain and gasped, desperate to get the lost air back in your system, but you were stopped as you felt a heavy weight slam on your chest, a hand grab your wrists and pin your arms to the ground above your head, and someone lean over you to block out the sun. Even though your head was spinning with confusion and adrenaline ran a marathon through your veins, your eyes shot open when you felt something sharp press into your neck.

“What the hell are you doing to my dragon, fucking maggot?!” the man on top of you yelled in your face, but you could hardly comprehend his words due to the abruptness of the situation. You wish you could say that you hated him from the moment your eyes landed on him, you wished you could have ignored the way your gut did cartwheels as if the Fate of a lifetime had been completed, but god was everything hard to ignore when he looked so fucking hot. His blonde, spiky hair exploded messily around his chiseled face to give him that ‘I didn’t even try to look good today’ natural beauty. From his striking jawline, cute button nose, strong neck, and those striking crimson eyes, he was just insanely good looking. Even as he glared at you with his eyebrows pulled down in a scowl, you couldn’t help but blush at the intense way he looked at you. Not even mentioning what you could see of his bare torso that was every bodybuilders’ dream, you inferred that he was around the middle of his twenties. His attire was composed of a few pieces of jewelry, colorful arm bands, a blood red cape completed with a fur-lined neck piece, and other things you couldn’t quite see from your position under his knee pressing hard onto your sternum. That pain was actually what brought you back from “(Y/N)’s Hot Guy Dreamland” to realize admiring his looks wasn’t exactly the main issue right now. To be honest, he’d be even more hot if he wasn't pressing that sharp scimitar threateningly to your neck, but sadly even that was sexy.

“I...I...well--,” you stuttered in shock, looking for the right words to spit out to appease the barbarian on top of you.

“EH? Out with it, whelp,” he growled, pressing his knee even harder into your chest to get his point across, “What were you doing to my dragon, dimwit?! Did you try to hurt him?”

“What? No, never!” you defended yourself while weakly struggling to free your arms from his vice grip.

“Did you plan to kill him and skin him for his hide! You sadistic monster!” he roared, pressing the blade closer to your neck, causing your skin to break and bleed. You yelped when you felt the burn of the slice but swore you could smell the scent of burning caramel drifting off of his body that hadn’t been there before.

“I would do no such thing, you creep! I was just--,” you were interrupted yet again by your own whimper as he leaned closer to your face. His frown deepened as you felt the blade press even further into your delicate flesh.

“You know what? I don’t even wanna hear your shitty ass excuses, I might just kill you right now and be done with you,” he smirked as your face significantly paled, “Unless you did something to my partner, then you’re gonna explain what you did, fix it, and then I can take my time slicing--,” the madman was cut off as another voice cut into the conversation.

“Bakugou, stop hurting her!” a masculine voice bellowed from a distance away. The sound of steam expelling filled the tense air as a hot gust of wind swiftly blew over the two of you. Shortly after you felt the man, who you now know his name is ‘Bakugou’, unlatch his grip on your hands and draw his sword away from you neck. You let out a sigh of relief and gawked as he completely abandoned from practically sitting on your chest to sprinting in the direction he had pushed you away from.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou shouted as he ran head first into the warm fog the steam had created. You sat up from the ground and pressed a hand to your neck to stop the light bleeding as deep gasps filled your lungs to contemplate what in the fresh fuck just happened in the time span of maybe a minute. You heard mumbling from the fog and, being the ever curious (N/N), decided to get up on wobbly feet and trek into the steam after the brute of a man.

“This is not how I planned to spend my Wednesday.” you murmured to yourself, walking blindly forward in the mist until you found your assaulter and your lizard patient except...not? No, instead of your new found scaly friend, you saw a red-headed man with horns and scales peppering his body leaning against the bully, Bakugou. His hair was spiked up to incredible heights and it blended seamlessly with his red curly horns hidden within. His face was scrunched up in pain but he still held a brave face as he grinned with teeth that were fit for a dragon. He, too, was around the same age as the blonde, and shirtless with the same body sculpted by the gods themselves, but on the right side of his torso was the same gash your dragon friend had. If the smaller, but still powerful, human sized wings on his back and thick scaly tail weren’t enough to convince you, then the wound confirmed that this indeed was the red dragon from before, now known as Kirishima. And, thankfully, he was nearly fully clothed too.

“Kirishima, don’t be an idiot, de-transform and get some rest, dammit.” Bakugou grunted at the man, causing the spikey haired fellow to laugh.

“Aw, I thought we weren’t partners, Bakugou! Now here you are, caring about some lowly warrior? You flatter me!” Kirishima joked as he coughed into his gloved hand while trying to sit up properly but utterly failing.

“Stupid! Just because I don’t want you to be fucking idiotic and die doesn’t mean we're partners!” he barked, his teeth growing sharper like he himself was a beast. Kirishima chortled and looked over to you. When he noticed your dropped jaw and wide eyes he coughed and looked you in the eye.

“What’s up, dudette? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” he joked.

“I...what...the HELL?! What even...I don’t understand…,” you paced in circles before looking at the two with (E/C) eyes full of confusion, “Who and what the heck are you two?!” Bakugou looks taken aback so he growls, reaching for his sword again, but Kirishima slaps his hand away from the weapon with a grin.

“I’m so sorry for not introducing myself to you earlier, I was in a lot of pain and plus I didn’t know you that well, so I hope there’s no hard feelings,” he smiled while pointing his thumb to himself, “I’m Eijirou Kirishima! And that is my friend, Katsuki Bakugou!”

“You lizard brain! Don’t just give random strangers our names!” Bakugou bared his teeth but Kirishima chose to ignore him.

“I never caught your name before, what was it?” he asked with a sweet head tilt that reminded you of a concerned puppy.

Suppressing the way your heart clenched at the adorable sight, you stopped nervously pacing and spoke, “My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

“Such a manly name! It’s nice to meet you too! Hey, I just wanted to thank you for all the help you provided me today. It’s totally not manly of me to ask for that much assistance, but even I knew that I needed it then more than ever! Who knew the perfect person for the job was just an acre away! Ha!” Kirishima laughed as he struggled to stand but fell back down again onto his tail with a groan of distress.

Bakugou had only barely caught him before you rushed over and kneeled down to check his tender wound. Kirishima flinched and flushed red at your fingers traced along his bare abdomen but you were too worried to care. Bakugou openly glared at the way Kirishima blushed at you, but stopped himself short when he realized what he was doing. Why did he do that? He had only just met you, you were a fucking nobody in his eyes! You hurt his friend! Who you choose touch and don't touch wasn’t his problem! Then again, he glanced at your concerned face and noticed the way your soft features shown in the light, how your (H/C) hair framed you like an elegant oil painting in a museum, how your eyes glistened with the rays of sun, how your lips moved with each word spoken. He blushed at that last thought and shook his head. What the fuck? No, he was too great to be dragged down by silly puppy love! But...you did seem nice and strong too...Wait, no! He looked away from the two of you and tried to compose himself as you and the redhead spoke back and forth.

“Woah! Kirishima, what are you doing? I haven’t finished treating your injury yet! Take it easy on your body.” you scolded like you were his own mother, placing a cloth you had fished out of your pocket onto the leaking wound.

“W-Wait...you’re not done?” he stuttered out, thankful the blush on his cheeks was slowly but surely melting away.

You looked up at him in shock, “You thought I was just gonna leave you like this? No way! You still need that healing cream, stitches, and bandages to cover it up so it won’t get infected!”

Bakugou interrupted Kirishima before he could even protest, “Hold on, you weren’t hurting him?” He looked over to the bloody cloak hastily tossed on the ground and scowled at the memories of his actions a few minutes prior.

“No! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, pinhead! I’ve been healing up your dragon while you were off picking flowers in the woods to make friendship crowns! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish treating him so that you two can head on your merry way and go back to wherever you popped out from, got it?” you shot at the brute, causing him to flinch at your harsh words.

“No way am I letting a weakling like you--,” cutting Bakugou off, Kirishima spoke over the next few words Katsuki said, which most likely saved him from a beating by your hands.

“Actually, he doesn’t get a say in this. I would love for you to finish, (Y/N)! Thank you again for great care!” he quickly said, shoving Bakugou a few feet away so he could lay flat on the ground. You balled up the fabric lining the bottom of your foraging basket and placed it under the dragon boy’s head so he could be more comfortable as you got to work again.

You carefully cleaned, sanitized, and tried to get Kirishima back to his peak performance and he took the pain like a champ, but Bakugou on the other hand was getting a little out of hand. He insisted that he keep a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t hurt his “not friend” in any way, shape, or form, and that was fair, but you didn’t like the fact that all he was doing was squatting next to the two of you and just...staring. Not saying anything, just scowling with those pretty eyes of his. What? Just because the man was a bit of a hard ass didn’t mean he wasn’t damn fine eye candy.

“Are you gonna sit there all day and just glare at me and my handy work or are you going to say something, Mr. Negative?” you snarked, watching from your peripheral vision as he jumped at the sudden intrusion of your voice. You smirked as Bakugou scoffed and leaned further in your line of sight to make you acknowledge him.

“Who are you?” he said with a stern tone.

You raised an eyebrow as you added more of the cream onto Kirishima’s wound, “I’ve already told you, my name is--,” Bakugou quickly hushed you.

“Not in that way, moron! I mean as in what are you? Some kind of mage or something dumb like that--,” you swiftly hit Bakugou on the shoulder for his rude remarks but before he could retaliate you flipped the question onto him.

“Don’t call people stuff like that, didn’t your mother ever teach you manners? I’ll tell you what I am after you tell me what you two are.” you countered.

“Bullshit! I’m the one asking the questions here! I ain’t saying--,”

“Bakugou and I are from a Southern Hemispheric tribe called the The Kin Born of Flame,” Kirishima explained as Bakugou’s jaw dropped, “He is actually the son of Chief Mistuki, leader of the Bakugou Clan! How cool is that? As for me I’m half dragon half human, but I’ve started to call my species Dragon Shifters.”

“Wow, not only a dragon but a Dragon Shifter too? This is incredible!” your eyes sparkled as you grinned down at Kirishima in delight.

“I know, right! If you think dragons are rare, try finding more than a dozen Shifters, we’re even harder to come by! Yeah, I’ve been Soul Bonded with Bakugou ever since we were fifteen. He may seem tough on the outside, but once you get to know him he’s really a huge softy!” he laughed as the barbarian cussed him out.

Your heart sank a little as you heard him speak so fondly of the man but the term he used confused you, so you just had to ask, “Soul Bonded? What’s that? Are you two in a romantic relationship?”

“What? Oh, no way! We’re just close buds is all,” Kirishima snickered, “I don’t think I could ever stand to be in a relationship with someone who's so hot headed! But he is still on the market and up for grabs, if you know what I mean~!” Kirishima wiggled his eyebrows at you while you blushed but played it off with a wave of your hand and a teasing giggle.

“What’s that supposed to mean, you hair-for-brains loser?!” Bakugou fumed, his hands twitching at the thought of grabbing the dragon boy’s face and blowing him to bits.

“So, what is Soul Bonding?” you redirected the conversation once again away from the agitated blonde and left him to stew in his frustration.

“Right! Soul Bonding is when a dragon and a human basically become partners, or friends, for life. Bakugou’s people have such a close relationship with my kind that every year a ceremony is held for all the unbonded individuals to try and find their other half. During this process, the human doesn’t get to choose the dragon and the dragon doesn’t get to choose the human, the feeling is sort of hard to describe but you’ll know when you’ve bonded when you see the other and think ‘They’re the only one I can ever fly with again’. Once you’re bonded, you cannot become bonded with another of the opposite species for the rest of your natural life, so if something unfortunate happens to your other half you don’t get a redo. That’s why the practice is so sacred. Some see it as romantic, others see it as a platonic engagement, so Bakugou and I have chosen the latter! Plus, I already have my eyes on a different person~,” Eijirou swooned with a flutter of his scaly wings.

Bakugou groaned, “Please spare us the two hour long declaration of love for another time, idiot. My question still stands, whelp, what are you?”

You huffed, “Well, since you asked so nicely, princess~, I’m a witch,” Kirishima and Bakugou gasped at the answer and glanced at each other nervously, but you raised your hand to stop them from jumping to conclusions, “but if you’re assuming I’m one of the evil witches that only uses black magic and practices necromancy, you’re wrong. I’m actually more of a Green Witch on steroids. I make healing and protection potions, work together with the nymphs who live down by the mountainside, open up my home all the time to the neighboring normal and mythological wildlife, encourage the growth of new, exotic kinds of plants to sprout in my backyard, and more. That is how I was able to make that cream so powerful for you and I, thanks to your guard dog, Kirishima.” you rubbed your neck where the slice had been that had long disappeared from the magical antidote and glared at Bakugou who simply grumbled and looked away in embarrassment.

“Woah, that’s amazing! I was wondering how you made it feel like it wasn’t even hurting anymore! You’re amazing.” Kirishima awed with wonder as he lightly patted the strips of bandages strapped to his side.

“Awe, thank you so much! I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you gave him a scratch behind his horns and his tail began thumping the ground like a dog as you became serious once more and turned to Bakugou, “But I have to ask, what caused Kirishima to get such a huge injury?”

Bakugou froze and let his head dip a bit towards the ground. You looked over at Kirishima who, for the first time, had a truly pissed off glint in his eye. You were taken by surprise at the silence that overcame them and considered taking back the question you had asked but stopped short when Katsuki began to speak again, this time his voice was just a gravely grunt.

“Ever heard of the Dark Kingdom?” was all he had to say as the mood became sinister and heavy.

Your eyes widened and you let out a brief shutter of a sigh as chills swept over your body, “Of course I have. Who hasn’t been affected by them in some way or another?” a grimace filled your now hushed voice. After all, how could you forget the ones who imprisoned your dear instructor?

“Kirishima and I had just made a trade with that damn Prince Shoto in the Todoroki Kingdom to the North last night and we were flying on our normal route back home when all of a sudden this huge blast of blue flames came hurtling towards Kiri. It came out of nowhere, no warning given. I don’t blame Kirishima for not being able to avoid the fucking sneak attack, but I do blame myself for being ignorant enough to not think that an assassin from the Dark Kingdom would try something on our only route home.” Katsuki closed his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed further.

“I should have expected it too, Bakugou. You’re not the only one who wasn’t thinking the smart way.” Kirishima tried to take some of the blame but Bakugou only continued.

“I got a brief glance at the attacker before Kiri fell. While he was falling, he managed to hit a rather large pine tree and instead of breaking it he impaled himself directly on it like a dumbass and further hurt himself. We hit the ground, I checked to see if Kiri was even alive and if I had anything broken, and once I confirmed he was breathing, I ran after the fucker who did this to give him a lesson like a jackass. I ran and ran, but the bastard got away and when I came back to help Kiri I saw you poking and prodding at his flesh and I just...saw red. Look, I’m sorry I jumped your shit and nearly killed you. Just don’t be such a weirdo and don’t go poking your head in business that doesn’t concern a dummy like you!” Bakugou finished while crossing his arms over his chest.

“How did this turn into my fault?” you rhetorically asked the air.

“Well, it’s because--,” Bakugou started.

“Didn’t need an answer on that, dunce,” you rolled your eyes and stood while looking over at Kirishima, “Well, to end this on a happier note, my medical work here is done, boys! You’re all patched up, Kiri!”

“Seriously? Freaking awesome!” he jumped up from the dirt and almost nearly collapsed again if it weren’t for you and Bakugou rushing to help him lean his weight on you two.

“You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown lizard! You’re all patched up, but there is only so much that cream can do. I wanted to say the both of you can come back to my cottage and you can rest up awhile, rehydrate, get some energy back. Plus, I can see about making you a potion that can fully heal that wound for you too!” you finished with a grin.

“Oh yeah? What’s the catch, bitchy witchy? Turning us into frogs to keep as pets?” Bakugou sneered.

You giggled with a smirk, “I haven’t thought of the price yet, but if you’re offering that sounds like fun! I bet you two would be the cutest frogs in the land! Maybe I could as far as cursing you to need a princess to kiss you back to your handsome selves again~!”

The two of them gasped at your cruelty, but you laughed, not noticing the blush on Bakugou’s face, “I’m kidding, guys! You don’t think I’m actually that mean, right?” you teased.

“O-Of course not, (Y/N)! Ha ha! Pleasedon’tturnusintofrogs!” Kirishima stuttered out with a paled face, which made you laugh.

“You worry too much! Let’s get you boys somewhere safe to hang out! Ooo! I have to show you guys everything!” you skipped down the dirt path that ultimately led to your house and you rambled on about your own little world as the two of them shambled close behind, one of them wondering what the hell they just got themselves into getting stuck with a cutie klutz like you and the other way too excited to help these two lovesick fools navigate their way through the world of romance.

~

~ The End ~

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~ Extra Bonus Ending!!!! ~

~

The figure hidden in the shadows of the trees watched with a smirk as the beautiful young lady led the two idiots further into the forest and away from the clearing where the beast had sadly not bled out.

“Wow, what an interesting turn of events, chiefling,” the blue-eyed figure snickered as they incinerated the bloody cloak of the young maiden previously used to clean the dragon’s wound, “Let’s see how long your princess in shining armor can keep you safe~!”

~

~ To Be Continued… ~

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