#she deserves to be wild and go off the wall for a lil bit i think

[xoioel]

Momo is overwhelmed because of her upcoming comeback w/ twice, so reader decides to help her relieve some stress by giving her a BJ (g!p momo of course) thank you!

➤ RELAX

parings: Momo x Reader

genre: SMUT

warnings: SMUT, soft dom momo, power bottom reader, blowjobs, crying, choking, spit kink, cowgirl, creampie

note: love this request!! ;) and i added a lil bit of reader riding momo just because momo deserves it 😘😻 ive never wrote soft dom before bc i love getting treated like a slut

Hearing someone slam the door, you makes your way down the stairs to see your girlfriend has come home. Boo and Dolby ran to the door to see their owner has come back home. She looked very exhausted and tired after she just finished promoting set me free and now she gas to promote hare hare and prepare for the world tour, So she was ready to just sleep

But you forgot that you were only wearing shorts and a bra which flipped a switch in Momo, She grabbed you and pinned you on the wall and began to hungrily kiss you, Shes moaning into the kiss. You bit her lip fighting for dominance as you stuck your tongue in her mouth. Now out of breath you pull back to get some air. “Missed you sooo much y/n” Momo says face flushed and out of breath.

You kissed her again but this time you pulled her closer and began to grind on her as you both make out. You felt Momos boner on your leg as you continued to grind up on her, she pulled away and makes her way up the stairs grip tight on your hand treating you very harshly as she drags you about. Reaching the bed in the middle of the bedroom she turns to you, gaze hard eyes filled with dominance and lust.

“On your knees y/n.”

She doesn’t even wait for you to respond, before shes pushing you to the floor. Sitting on your knees you look up just in time to see her pull her cock out. Her hard painfully cock pulsating in her hand as she reached for your braids; grabbing it and harshly pulling on your braids as she thrusts into your open mouth.

A satisfied groan leaves her lips as she throws her head back, fingers tightly grabbing the sheets while her other hand has a firm grip on your hair keeping you in place. Her hips thrusting wild and without rhythm as she abuses your throat in chase of her release.

Your gags only spiring her on as saliva begins to drip down your neck, tears streaming down your face at the brutality of her thrusts. Its only when she feels you swallow around her cock that she reaches the edge, so close to falling into a pit of pleasure.

“f-fuck i-im going to cum” Momo says in broken moans. She thrusts fast, blabbering in Japanese as she chases her high. Her eyes roll to the back of her head with a final snap of her hips and she cums, her cock buried deep inside your throat. You swallow all of her cum before showing her that you swallowed it all. You catch your breath, reveling in her reddened cheeks and heaving chest.

Straddling her petite form, you tease her once more; rubbing yourself against her cock and watching as her gaze turns to one of ice. It’s only now you see a glimpse of the sexy woman she is to everyone else on stage, her expression that of a devil as a growl rips through her throat. Momo’s desperation had never been so evident, rutting into you from below at an attempt of slipping inside, biting her lip so hard it looked as if it might tear.

“I swear to fucking god, if you don’t-“ You finally lower yourself onto her cock and her ramblings are cut off by her own lewd whine, brows knitting together in the centre as the look on her face turns to one of pure ecstasy. Momo’s brain goes blank for a few moments, unabashed whimpers leaving her pretty lips.

Slowly moving yourself up and down on her cock, you bask in the way she’s shivering beneath you; her plump chest rising and falling quickly as her breaths become more uneven. Momo’s mumbling an array of praises and thank you’s.

“Unnie? tell me whats going on in your head, because youve been tense this whole time and i want you to relax” You say as Momo continued to moan very porn like.

“I- I’ve been soo stressed out with- fuckkk~ with relearning choreography and new choreography and- go har-harder please~ i just need a break,” Momo’s eyes lock with yours as she begins to tell you what’s wrong, “Please, don’t…stop.” You increase your speed, bouncing swiftly on her lap and pulling her head back by her hair. Momo’s eyes roll back once again at the mix of pain and pleasure, throwing her over the edge unexpectedly as she cries out, “ngh- shit, oh fuck i’m gonna cum.”

You smirk and tilt your head, pouting a little, “Can you hold on a little longer for me, hm? I know you can do it good girl.” The use of the title makes her tense up and she nods, squeezing her hands together behind her back as she holds off her impeding orgasm with all her might. You curse as you also feel your climax nearing and Momo’s eyes widen, a fire blazing in her chest at the thought of making you cum around her cock.

You’re rutting your hips against Momo’s as she whimpers your name; dangerously on the brink of her orgasm while she begs you to cum for her, “Please, baby, I need to feel it - Need to feel you, mmm, ngh- Cum for me.”

Seeing Momo like this is as close to heaven as you’ll get, the way she moans your name like a mantra and her sinful expression twists with pleasure is truly your nirvana. It sends you over the edge and you see white, blinded by the hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Just before you lose all cognitive thought to the ecstasy, you make sure to order Momo through your moans, “Cum for me, jaji.” You barely finish the command before Momo’s filling you up, crying out and shivering uncontrollably beneath you.

But the night doesnt end here.. Because you have to make sure your girlfriend is relaxed

#valeriaa writes☆ #twice x reader #jyp twice #twice smut #momo x reader #twice momo #hirai momo #momo smut #momo #g!p

[heartthrummed-a]

Arashi in Crazy:B songs is still an entire aesthetic

#❧ ｢ general ｣ ⸻ ooc #❧ ｢ general ｣ ⸻ tbd #she deserves to be wild and go off the wall for a lil bit i think #FKDKGEKGK

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VIII

Like wolves we've run wild

Let passion get too much

And let ourselves get burned by the fire

We're walking on wire

But nothing feels higher

Then when I see that look in your eyes

Small Talk, Niall Horan

A/N: here she is!! another part!! you’re probably used to this now, but part 8 got a little long, and will continue in a part 9 but honestly!! who cares!! it just means more vampirerry for all of us 😌 here we deep dive into a few more dates with a dash of some good ole jealousy!! love to see it love to hear it!! and andrea and i would just like to say THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN THE 1D CRAFT AWARDS!!!! we cannot believe ysijwa was even nominated, let alone that it won most unique!!! as a thank you, we’re doing a livestream this sunday!! you can send in questions, we’ll discuss the story, and just have a lil chat so please tune in!! details can be found here!! and please if you like what you are reading here!! reblog it!! leave reactions in the tags (we read every single one)!! send a message to andrea and i!! feedback and interaction is what keeps content creators motivated to keep writing and updating!! and that’s a general rule for all content creators not just us!! we do this for free so a lil love note is always appreciated 💌 alrighty now that that’s out of the way!! let’s dive in!!

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist :  ysijwa playlist II

word count: 30k

content/warnings: confessions of an immortal shopaholic, blair waldorf dark au, the glamorization of the sugar baby lifestyle, harry not understanding the concept of sharing, y/n “eat the rich” y/l/n, harry the walking rosetta stone (tw: google translate), an italian chef (and psychic) who will also adopt someone before dessert is served, A Cinderella Story 6: Fifty Shades of Gucci Grey (rated R), an internal monologue of john mulaney’s “now we don’t have time to unpack all THAT!!!”, and a definitive guide on how to get rid of unnecessary parts of an outfit

Harry is aware that he has a taste for excess. 

He wasn’t always like this, truly.  When he was human, everything about his life had been thoroughly middle class.  He was apprenticed to his father, the town’s blacksmith, and spent the majority of his life living in modesty.  He wore plain clothes that had been sewn by his mother with the cheapest and most durable material she could find.  He spent most of his days at the forge, or dutifully completing chores at home.  He prayed quietly in church, took only the bare minimum of what he needed from anything, and, for the most part, kept his head down.  He’d lived his life with no fancies, no frills, and no fun, in the hopes that all his humble modesty would serve him well in his next life. 

And then he ended up eternally damned, so a fat lot of good that suffering had done him.  All he got from following such a plain mode of life was intimacy issues, a newfound bloodlust, and a broken neck. Therefore, when it came to his afterlife, Harry decided to try a different route. 

And that route, lucky for him, always seems to lead him back to Gucci. 

Harry’s tried a lot of styles and a lot of designers in his two hundred and some years of life, but he’s yet to find anything that speaks to him like Gucci does.  Whether it’s a leather wallet, a blue velvet suit, a sheer pussy bow shirt, or a silk neck scarf; if it has the Gucci label stamped on it, Harry probably owns it. 

Whenever he steps foot in the store, sales associates flock to him, knowing that he’ll drop at least five thousand in one visit.  Harry knows he should feel a tad guilty, but frankly, he thinks he’s earned it— more so than those billionaires he compels into making monthly donations to the “charity funds,” also known as his bank account. 

His methods, however, do bring him a bit of flack from his friends.  While Mitch normally does everything with Harry, the laid back and neutrally good-aligned vampire can only spend so much time in a high-end boutique before claiming that he’s “choking on the cologne of the entitled.” Niall, on the other hand, doesn’t let his teasing nature stop him from joining Harry, but Niall’s affinity for polyester usually stops Harry from allowing him inside the store.  And Xander is a non-starter— the last time Harry tried to bring him, the vampire had spent the entire time cracking scathing jokes about Harry being a sugar baby, to which Harry responded with a comment about Xander being jealous of the salesman fitting Harry.  That little argument turned into a three day battle of neither speaking to the other, and had only been settled when they each agreed that the other deserved to lose an eyebrow for what was said.  

Harry could recount more instances of friction caused by his shopping habits, but needless to say, he either frequents the shopping district of Los Angeles by himself, or with Adam, who is wonderfully indifferent to Harry’s methods of obtaining pocket change, as well as how he spends said pocket change, and possesses the bonus trait of having an eye for beautifully tailored trousers. 

It’s Adam who is by Harry’s side as he walks into the Gucci store for the third time in two weeks, his disinterested expression nearly eclipsed by the confident smirk that adorns Harry’s ruby lips. 

It’s almost like they have a censor for him, Harry thinks smugly, as the associates begin to whisper to each other at the sight of him.  Even if he didn’t absolutely love the brand, Harry would come to Gucci just for the boost to his ego. 

Despite having accompanied Harry before, Adam still leans over to his friend, raising a quizzical brow as his eyes scan over the racks of clothing they pass. “Do we have to go to the counter, or—?”

“Oh, I never have to go to the counter.” Harry chuckles lightly, brushing his icy fingers over a smooth silk shirt styled on a mannequin. “They—”

“Mr. Styles!”

The egotistical simper on Harry’s lips grows, and he shoots Adam a smug look before turning around. “They come to me.”

“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to see you again.” Mr. Koffman, the manager of this particular location, stops in front of Harry after a brisk walk over, fixing the fit of his suit jacket before extending his hand to Harry and Adam. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Harry shakes his hand once, enjoying the usual look of bemusement that flashes through the human man’s eyes at his strong grip and cool skin. “And yourself?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” He replies, shaking Adam’s hand once without moving his attention from Harry. “We’re thrilled to have you back so soon.  I understand we have a suit in the works for you?”

Adam rolls his eyes the moment Mr. Koffman turns away from him, turning his attention to the rack of jackets to the left and running his fingers over the material. 

“Yeah, I got the call this morning to come pick it up.” Harry pauses, giving Adam a sideways glance as his grin grows. “But I was wondering if I could do one last fitting, just to make sure everything’s set…?”

“Oh, uh—” Harry enjoys the frayed tone that echoes from the manager’s mouth as he begins to scramble, a light sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m so sorry, but we have another appointment coming in fifteen minutes, and—”

Harry sighs in mock disappointment, clicking his tongue as he gives a slight nod. “Ah.  I see.” He sighs again and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, glancing at Adam from the corner of his eye.  The other vampire is watching him with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to bite back a laugh. 

The light sheen of nervous sweat on Mr. Koffman’s brow begins to drip down his temple. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Styles—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Harry waves off the apology with an unconcerned air, glancing at his own statement watch and sighing again. “If you could just have my suit sent down to the Gucci location on Rodeo, I’d really appreciate it— I know they’ll be able to squeeze me in for a last minute fitting.” Harry smiles at Koffman, whose face fades a shade paler as the creature gestures to his friend. “C’mon, Adam.”

“No, no, there won’t be any need for that!” Mr. Koffman says quickly, checking his watch again as his hand reaches for the handkerchief in his suit pocket.  He dabs at his moist forehead while forcing a smile at Harry, who gives an easygoing smile back. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Koffman, really— if you’re unable to make some room for me, I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“You’ve been a wonderful and loyal customer to us, Mr. Styles— we’d be more than happy to make room for you.” The human smiles again, the action more strained than before as he tucks his handkerchief away and clasps his hands in front of him. “Just— Just give me one moment to arrange it with alterations, and move some things around.  Please, feel free to browse,” He gestures to the racks of clothing around them. “And I’ll be back in a few minutes once we have everything ready for you.”

Harry hums in the back of his throat, faking hesitation as he replies in a slow voice. “Well...if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble…”

“No trouble at all.  Not for you.” Koffman, to his credit, manages to make the response sound natural before scurrying away, already dialing a number on his phone as he speed-climbs the staircase leading to the alterations department. 

The laugh Harry’s been choking on for the last three minutes escapes the moment the human disappears, echoing off the marble walls around them as Harry turns to Adam with a glint in his eye. 

Adam, on the other hand, looks less entertained and more annoyed. “Was that really necessary?” He asks in a bored tone, crossing his arms as his eyebrows raise in question. “Why do you need to try the suit on?  You had, like, three fittings.  It’ll be fine.”

“I know, but I want to make sure it’s perfect before I take it home— I’m spending way too much money for it to possibly be defective.  And I want you to see it in all the glory of the mirrored Gucci fitting room.” Harry pats his friend’s shoulder as he steps past him, his attention captured by a pair of red leather and snakeskin boots sitting on a pedestal in the corner. 

Adam snorts once, short and harsh. “Were those the only reasons, Mr. Styles?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Harry drags a finger over the embroidered side of the boots, his cherry lips rising at the corners. “I do enjoy making Koffman squirm.  He’s so easily bothered by the littlest of things; it’s like an open invitation to cause some trouble.”

“Y’know, if I didn’t know what you really were,” Adam laughs once in spite of himself, shaking his head in disbelief while checking out a pair of plaid trousers. “I’d think you were the devil.” 

Harry’s smile twists into something more sinister as he fiddles with his gold cross, twisting the pendant under the overhead lighting so it glints symbolically in Adam’s eye. “It’s a good thing I’m not, hm?  I’d be unstoppable.”

“We’d all be doomed, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, absolutely. But world-domination aside, everyone knows the devil wears Prada, not Gucci. Get it together, Prendergast.” 

The clicking of dress shoes against the marble steps alert Harry to Koffman’s return before his sputtering heartbeat does, and the vampire turns his head just in time to see him descend down the spiral staircase. 

“Good news, Mr. Styles!” He beams at Harry as he steps off the last platform, nearly tripping over his feet in his effort to get to his client. “I was able to talk to the girls, rearrange some appointments, and we’ll be able to do a final fitting for you.”

“That’s wonderful t’hear, Mr. Koffman.” Harry tucks his cross back beneath his shirt with a pleased grin, catching Adam’s eye over the mortal’s shoulder. “I wasn’t fancying the drive to Rodeo.”

“I wouldn’t either, sir.” Koffman nods solemnly, gesturing to the stairs with a stubby hand. “But we’re always glad to make accommodations for you here.”

And isn’t that the truth, Harry thinks as he makes his way upstairs, Adam hot on his heels as Koffman leads the two of them to the alterations department.  Part of the reason why Gucci— and this location, if Harry’s honest— holds such a place in his unbeating heart is because it reminds him of an era long gone.  When Harry steps through the gold archways of the store, he instantly transforms into a person worth noting, and is waited on as if he were a lord in Victorian England who was set to inherit twenty thousand pounds.  Now, of course, Harry could drop the equivalent of twenty thousand pounds in one shopping trip, but it was a large sum of money back then, when Harry could only dream of such wealth. 

Now, the immortal’s reality involves him being waited on the moment he enters the alteration department, with one attendant handing him a glass of champagne as another shows him a display of accessories to match his custom suit, which hangs proudly inside a garment bag on the wall.  Adam, for all his eyerolls, still accepts the complimentary champagne and appraises the accessories right along with Harry, who gets a chance to roll his own eyes as an attendant named Mara convinces him to try on a platinum watch.

“Would you like to try one as well, Mr. Styles?” The other attendant, Blair— Harry’s favourite consultant at the store, truth be told— bats her eyes at him as she taps a finger over the Rolex already adorning Harry’s wrist. “Could be nice to switch it up, no?”

Harry offers a polite smile as he readjusts the band of the watch on his arm, tutting in reply. “I’m afraid I’m rather attached to the Rolex brand for my watches, Blair.” He sighs before nodding his head at Adam, who’s become enamoured with the platinum band on his wrist. “Best to focus your energy on that one, I think.  He’ll make you some easy commission.”

“It’s not about commission, Mr. Styles, it’s about finding you something you’ll love.” Blair pouts as she leads him behind the dressing room curtain, her lithe fingers unzipping the garment bag covering his suit with one swift motion. “I thought you’d know me well enough by now to know you’re much more than commission to me.”

The smile on Harry’s face only falters for one second, the flicker going unnoticed by the employee as she carefully removes the suit from the bag.  The last time Harry had been here for a fitting, she hadn’t been working— he remembers because the new attendant they’d sent to deal with him had nearly zipped his suit into the garment bag when the fitting was over.  It had been Blair, however, who had originally measured him for the suit, and Harry remembers her wandering fingers that paused at his inseam a moment longer than needed, how she had showered Harry with praise as he modeled the sample suit.  It had done him good then as he strutted around the alterations department, flexing underneath the chandelier light as she’d complimented his every pose, but that had been nearly two months ago.  Moreover, it had been two brunches, four dinners, three walks, and an antiquing trip ago.  A lifetime ago, really.

“That’s very kind of you, Blair.” Harry finally manages to respond, his fingers pausing at the buttons of his shirt as she hangs the separate parts of the suit on their own hangers. “I’d trust no one else with a suit this expensive, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” A light giggle escapes the girl as she hangs the jacket on the wall, stepping back and admiring the pieces with a keen eye. “I’m glad you decided to go with the light grey fabric; it’ll compliment your eyes so nicely.” When she turns back around, Harry doesn’t miss how the same keen eye skirts over the half unbuttoned fabric covering his torso. “I’ll give you a moment to slip everything on.  If you need anything…” The girl tugs the curtain back just enough to let herself out, her pink lips tugging into a simper. “Just call for me.”

Harry’s smile grows tighter as the curtain closes behind her, and disappears the moment he’s out of her sight.  He’d forgotten, really, the effect he has on most mortals.  It had been something he’d paid close attention to before, delighting in how they all unknowingly stroked his ego as their jaws dropped whenever he’d walked by.  In a way, it’s nice to know that he’s still capable of that— he’s still a narcissist, after all— but it’s a little less satisfying when he’s grown so used to that careful attention from Y/N.  When it comes to stroking, he thinks shrewdly, a smirk slowly crawling onto his face as he strips out of the rest of his clothes, there’s no one better than her. 

Once he’s stripped completely, he dresses in the custom suit, pulling the crisp fabric along his muscled limbs and tugging it into place.  He starts with the silk black shirt, slipping his arms into the sleeves and buttoning the two sides together, excluding the top three holes.  After that, he steps into the grey trousers, tucking the shirt in and taking a moment to admire the black stripe that runs down the inseam of the pants, which— to Blair’s credit— hug his thighs perfectly.  Once he’s satisfied with the lay of the article, he slips the suit jacket overtop, adjusting the sleeves over the dress shirt as he fiddles with the cuffs.

“Now, don’t worry about the cufflinks with the suit, Mr. Styles,” Blair calls through the curtain, her voice grating across Harry’s admiration with an irritating cadence as she seems to predict his need. “They’re just some samples given by the store.  I’ve personally selected some more appropriate pairs that match your style much better.”

When Harry tugs back the curtain, Adam has shifted himself to the plush velvet couch in the middle of the room, his champagne glass already refilled as he slouches back against the cushions.  Mara, it seems, has disappeared from the fitting room, but Blair is standing just to the side, next to a table lined with gold accessories for Harry to try.

“Well?” Harry asks, stepping to the platform that sits in front of the mirrored wall, his jeweled hands tugging at the starched lapel of the jacket.  He regards himself in the mirror for a moment, admiring the fit across his sturdy shoulders, before rotating around to face the vampire and mortal. “What do you think, Adam?”

Adam takes a long sip of his champagne, mulling over his reply for so long that it sparks irritation in Harry’s stomach, which is only soothed by his long awaited comment. “It looks good.” He nods, squinting his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “A little plain, compared to what you normally wear, but it’s nice.”

“I don’t know if it’s proper to call this plain.” Blair scoffs, looping the tape measure in her hands around her neck as she approaches Harry, her heels clicking against the lacquered floor. “Mr. Styles usually has a preference for something more patterned, true, but there’s something to be said for a sleek, simple suit.” Harry watches the way her eyes flicker down his body, pausing at his inseam with a look that’s less than professional. “And that black stripe along the inside of the pant certainly...draws the eye, does it not?”

Although her words are laced with implications, Harry directs a smirk at Adam as he rakes a hand through his curled locks. “It’s alright, Blair.  Adam’s right, it is a little plain compared to what I normally wear, but every man needs a nicely tailored formal suit in his closet.”

“Exactly.” Blair nods in earnest response as she begins to circle Harry, her detail oriented eyes sweeping over every aspect of the suit.  In the reflection of the mirror, Harry catches the way her eyes settle over the fit of his backside, her heartbeat increasing for just a moment until Harry clears his throat.

“The cufflinks, love?” Harry prompts, raising his arms as he begins to fiddle with the cuffs. “These sample ones are horrid.  You said something about gold…?”

The attendant snaps from her objectifying stupor, her eyes meeting Harry’s in the mirror as a light blush settles over her cheeks. “Yes, I, um, picked some out for you here.” Her heels click again as she retrieves the velvet lined tray that’s studded with jewelry, bringing it to Harry for him to examine. “We have a few variations of the Gucci logo— interlocking G’s, some embossed onto gold coins— but I think this pair we just got in might be to your liking.”

Harry reaches for the cufflinks Blair points to, pinching one between his fingers and lifting it close to his eye to examine it.  It’s a pair of interlocking G’s, but instead of a smooth finish similar to the other pairs before him, these have textured engravings all around the letters.  It takes Harry a moment to realize that the engravings are scales, and the G’s are actually—

“They’re engraved to look like snakes, with black Swarovski crystal eyes.” Blair begins her infomercial-like spiel, holding up the other cufflink for her own examination. “They’re 18K gold with an aged finish, and the attention to detail is just extraordinary.  Even the back is engraved with an Arabesque motif.” She twists the cufflink around in her fingers as Harry does the same, examining the engraving with an approving nod.

“They’re lovely.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his fist around the cufflink to secure it before removing the sample cufflink from his own sleeve.  With one swift motion, he’s swapped one piece of gold hardware for another, fiddling with the fit of the sleeve as he sets the new cufflink amongst the fabric. “S’a nice fit, I think.”

“It’s a wonderful fit.” Before he can reach for the other cufflink, Blair snags his sleeve in her grasp, replacing the sample in a motion nearly as swift as Harry’s. “Beautiful, really.  It’s such an understated suit, which works to its advantage, but the pop of gold on the cuffs will really make everything stand out so much more.”

Harry nods seriously, a pensive look on his face as he examines the sleeves once more before raising his arms. “What d’you think, Adam?  Look alright?”

Adam offers a passive nod as he becomes distracted by the rack of watches again, his fingers draping over another platinum band. “Looks good, man.  But you know that.”

“I know.” Harry flashes a blinding smile at his friend, dropping one emerald eye into a wink as he fiddles with the cufflinks. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“It really is a perfect fit, Mr. Styles.” Blair nearly coos the words as she circles him again, her careful fingers tugging and adjusting the lines of the suit just enough that it can be considered appropriate for her job.  “Gorgeous.  The best we’ve done, I think.” Her fingers dance over his lapel as she adjusts the fall of his open neckline, and a flash of warning ignites in Harry’s stomach as her skin grazes the ink of Harry’s chest. “But the suit is only doing half the work, you know.  The rest is all—” Her touch travels up the lapel and across his shoulder, her body taking a step behind his own as her touch settles on the nape of his neck. “You.”

Although her skin barely brushes the back of his neck, the pin-prick touch bursts into a shudder that paralyzes Harry’s entire body, tensing his every limb.  When it releases, his frame spasms one single time in reflex, yanking itself away from the human’s touch.

The shudder doesn’t go unnoticed by Blair or Adam, although each has their own response based on what they know of Harry.  As his jade eyes harden to stone, Harry catches the cautious movements of Adam, who is slowly pulling himself into a tense and careful posture in the corner of Harry’s eye.  Blair, on the other hand, is merely frozen with her hand still hanging in midair, a confused and bewildered expression painted onto her features.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Styles?” She questions, her self-preservation betraying her as she takes another step forward with her outstretched fingers once again reaching for Harry’s shoulder. “Is something in the suit bothering you?”

Harry gives a rough shake of his head as he leans back from her touch once again, forcing himself to take a deep breath through his nose to collect himself.  When he speaks, his voice is low, raspy, and filled with a quiet fury that exceeds the intensity that would accompany a scream. “I think I’ve mentioned before,” He enunciates each word clearly, his delivery cold in every aspect. “I prefer not to be touched there.”

Despite the tense undercurrent of Harry’s voice, Blair’s expression relaxes once she realizes the cause of it. “My apologies.  I was just trying to adjust the fit.” When she places her hand on Harry’s elbow and tugs at the sleeve, her brow creases at the taut joint, but her voice remains as smooth and slick as ever. “I’ll make sure to keep my hands to myself— or at least, wait for your direction on where to put them.”

The smile that curves over her lips begins to fall as Harry’s face stays as stony as ever, his own mouth dragged down into a frown as the implications of her words settle around him.  Part of him wants to snap right there, to give into the instinct to bare his teeth, swell his chest, and show this emboldened employee what she’s really touching, but Adam’s eyes over her shoulder urge him not to. 

His friend knows how sensitive Harry can get when his guard is at full throttle, especially when that issue stems from anything vaguely related to that particularly haunted place the young woman had carelessly touched. Watch it, Adam’s gaze seems to say as he shakes his head just enough for Harry to notice.  It was an accident. You’re fine. 

Harry inhales deeply once again, grounding himself in his human persona with each rise and fall of his chest. “That would be wise, I think.” He finally responds, straightening his back and turning to face himself in the mirror once again. “Just be a bit more careful.”

It seems that Blair has finally gotten the hint, because every touch of her fingers over him for the rest of the fitting is calculated and precise.  Her hands do drift a little further on his body than what’s necessary, but she makes sure she doesn’t graze against his icy bare skin again.  What Harry finds most curious, however, is that every swipe of her fingers against the fabric grates on what seems to be his last nerve.

They’ve played this cat and mouse game before, always teasing, always touching, and just barely staying out of reach.  But it seems Harry has gotten too lax in his ways, he thinks, as his cold eyes watch the movements of the girl in the mirror, because she’s never been this blatant before, especially in front of another customer.  Does she actually think something could happen between the two of them?  Does she really believe that Harry would drag her behind the curtained partition, meticulously remove the suit he’s just paid thousands for, and trace his own fingers over her supple flesh as if he’s fitting her for himself?

The thought nearly pulls a ridiculing laugh from Harry’s chest, but that laugh is replaced with a pondering thought that irks Harry the moment it flickers into his mind.  He could do that, yes.  He’s certainly done worse, and Blair can probably sense that.  If Harry were in her position, of being the mouse that believes it’s the cat, he would probably think that something was going to come out of all their chasing eventually.  And why hasn’t it?

The answer, of course, comes to Harry a moment after the question does.  Even though Blair is, by society’s standards, objectively attractive, and obviously willing to follow any direction he gives her, Harry is smart enough to not draw attention to himself by hooking up and feeding from a consultant that works at his favourite store.  It had been Niall, he thinks, who summed up a simple yet effective rule wonderfully for him once: Don’t shit where you eat.  Plain and simple.  

But there’s a second answer that grinds at the back of Harry’s mind, festering inside every thought as Blair makes final adjustments, blathers on about accessories and additions, and tries to raise her commission by once again showing Harry watches.  Harry doesn’t want Blair, because Harry has Y/N.  Being touched by Blair feels wrong because Harry’s so used to being touched by Y/N.  And Blair grazing over his neck bothered him so much because he can, apparently, only stand someone’s fingers grazing there if Y/N is the one doing it.

And perhaps festering isn’t the right word, Harry muses, because the warmth that’s spreading through him with that realization feels a lot more like blossoming than anything else.  It flowers within him, lavender weaving through every limb, letting him know that maybe— just maybe— he’s not as selfish as he thinks.  He could be a complete monster, and fabricate a relationship for Y/N while still pursuing other people, but he has, at the very least, one shred of decency hidden within him.  Although he indulges his base desires whenever he’s with her, he at least has the power to resist one of them.

With that in mind, Harry finds it easier to pay less mind to Blair’s lingering touches and sly compliments, and instead focuses on cherry-picking the suggestions he wants to take from her.

“Y’think I should change the shoes, then?” Harry steps down from the platform, drifting closer to the full length mirrors to examine the black leather loafers adorning his feet. “Something more colourful?”

“Not necessarily colourful, no— after all, we’ve worked hard to create a cohesive look.  We wouldn’t want to interrupt that with a sudden burst of fuschia.” Blair laughs once, brushing her hair behind her ears as she hums in consideration. “But something with a bit of gold, maybe?  To match the cufflinks?  We could add some gold hardware to those loafers, or just find a new pair for you…”

“New is always better.” Adam chimes in from the couch, tilting his half full glass to Harry with a wry smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Styles?”

Harry points a ringed finger at him, winking once in confirmation. “Right you are, Mr. Prendergast.” He begins scanning the room, his eyes catching every pair of shoes displayed and comparing them in his mind. “Do you have some selections we could look at, Blair?”

“If you give me a few moments, I could certainly run to the back and pull some—”

As Harry’s keen eyes settle onto a pair of boots on display in the corner of the room, he raises a hand, cutting the girl off in one swift motion. “That may not be necessary.” He murmurs, walking over to the pedestal and examining the newest object of his fascination.

The boots are made of matte leather with polished snakeskin over the toes of the shoes, both fabrics shining the darkest black Harry has ever seen.  The leg of the boot is relatively short, and would probably only come to Harry’s ankle, with a black heel that would add an inch or two to Harry’s already tall frame.  But the pièce de résistance that draws Harry’s eye the moment he sees them are the embroidered gold dragons that adorn the outer sides of each boot, their bodies coiled in such a way that Harry almost swears he can see them breathing. 

He slides one finger around the toe of the boot, nearly shivering in how pleasurable the silky surface feels against his skin. “How much?” He mumbles the phrase with a reverent look in his eyes, his voice as delicate as his touch.

Blair’s smile twists into one of apology as words Harry has never heard from her before fall from her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, but those are actually a custom order for another client.  They’re not for sale.”

Harry hums low in his throat, his fingertips dancing over the gold embroidery. “I’ll add another thousand onto whatever they’re paying.” He says, earning a breath of hesitation from Blair and a sigh of exhaustion from Adam.

“Christ, Harry,” The latter groans, rubbing his eyes in a frustrated manner at Harry’s familiar antics. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at sharing?  Did you skip that part of kindergarten?”

“Kindergarten wasn’t really a thing where I grew up.” Harry reminds his friend, shrugging indifferently before turning his attention back to the torn consultant. “So?  Another thousand?  I think that adds on quite a nice percentage of commission for you, doesn’t it?”

“I— Mr. Styles, I’m not really sure if—” Blair stutters over her words as she quickly strides over to him, the clicking of her heels against the marble floor punctuating each pound of her heart in her chest. “I don’t really think we can do that.”

A short laugh echoes from Harry’s ruby lips as a grin dimples his cheeks, the humour of her words apparent only to him. “You know I don’t take no for an answer, Blair.” He raises his eyes to hers and locks their gazes, lowering his voice to a smooth and convincing octave, pupils dilating as supernatural magic flows into his irises.  When her own eyes respond the same, her face falling slack for just a moment, Harry knows he’s alright to continue. “You didn’t answer my question.  How much?”

“Just under four thousand.” The consultant replies immediately as the compulsion settles into her brain. “They would be around five if you wanted to add on the thousand you mentioned before.”

The smile on his face twists into something more conceited, and Harry steps back from the boots with a satisfied sigh. “I’ll take them, then.” Confidence weaves itself through his voice as he meticulously removes the suit jacket from his body. “Call Mara to wrap them up, won’t you?  While I’m changing, I’ll need you to start pulling some more selections for me.”

Blair blinks the compulsion from her eyes as Harry’s stare dips from hers, her tone thick with confusion as she sleepily takes the jacket from Harry’s hands. “More selections, Mr. Styles?  Of what?”

“Yeah, Harry.” Adam’s words are tinged with trepidation as he subtly checks the time on the watch now hanging off his wrist. “Of what?”

“Cocktail dresses, I think.  Although I’m not opposed to a cute little romper, as long as it has a bit of sparkle and shows off some leg.” Harry says thoughtfully, rubbing over his pillowy lips as he ponders the thought. “But I think a cocktail dress would work best.  Black, maybe.  To keep it classy, but not too classy.” He says, shooting a wicked grin at Blair. “I’d like to see a bit of skin.”

“I’m— I’m sorry,” The befuddlement in the human girl’s voice finally begins to clear up, leaving curiosity-tinged jealousy in its place. “What sort of event is this outfit for?”

Harry’s loafers echo around the marble room as he makes his way back to the changing area, a plan already forming in his head as he speaks. “A dinner.  Semi-formal, so no floor length gowns or anything like that.  Maybe bring some matching heels as well, although...” Harry pauses with the changing curtain clutched tight in his hand. “I think a quick trip to Christian Louboutin down the street may yield better results in that department.”

“Quick trip,” Adam quotes scornfully, downing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass down on the gold side table with a groan. “That’s what this was supposed to be, H, and we’ve been here for an hour!  We were supposed to pick up your suit, and then head back to Niall’s for the barbecue—”

“So text Niall and tell him we’re running behind; he certainly has no problem doing that to us.” A snort sounds deep in Harry’s throat as Blair walks to the ornate desk in the back of the room and picks up the gold-plated rotary phone, dialing a short number with practiced speed. “And, with the amount of times he’s complained to me about my lack of punctuality, he should be used to it by now.”

The other vampire rolls his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers with a groan. “Fine.” He relents, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “But you’re buying me this watch as payment.” 

“Fine.” Harry shrugs as he echoes the word, his voice casual and without a care as he slips behind the curtain and finishes undressing.  

Once he’s hung the suit back up on its hangers and redressed in his normal clothing, he retracts the plush curtain once more to find an annoyed Adam hanging up the phone, his newly purchased boots gone from the pedestal, and the heavy gold accessories that had been picked out for Harry being swapped for finer and daintier pieces.

Harry begins to examine the gold chains, humming in thought over the delicate pendants that swing from them. “How’d Niall take it?” He tosses the question to Adam over his shoulder, not particularly concerned about the answer.

“He told me to call you a wanker and rip off your ear, so,” Adam tucks his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head at the Irishman’s harsh words. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Another hum vibrates through Harry’s throat as he sets a mental note to make amends with his friend at a later date. “So do you want to rip off my right ear, or my left?  I have to admit, my left is my prettier ear, so I’d be appreciative if you left that one alone.”

The laugh that leaves Adam is so genuine that Harry knows he can’t be too annoyed at him.  When his friend joins him in overlooking the jewelry, Harry offers him an airy smile in return, pointing out a detail in one of the pendants to Adam’s interested gaze.

“Explain something to me.” Adam starts after a moment, his own hands grazing over a diamond bracelet. “Why go to all this trouble?  A dress, shoes, accessories… what’s the point?”

If it were any of his other friends asking the question, Harry would take a defensive response, spouting off a justified reply about how he looks so good in the suit that it needs to be seen, and that he can’t wear it and have Y/N not match him in clothing that’s sufficiently up to par.  But Adam’s eyes, albeit frustrated at times, have always been kind, and contain a depth of clarity that Harry can’t resist. He’s always been the most level-headed of the group, second only to Mitch, so the monster always feels safe trusting him with his innermost thoughts. 

“S’nice, I suppose.” Harry replies with as casual a tone as he can allow, lifting his shoulder as the sound of a rolling cart heavy with clothing pricks his ears from down the hall. “I’m taking something from Y/N, so… it makes me feel nice to give her something in return, y’know?  Makes me feel a little less guilty, at least, if she’s having a good time.”

Although Adam’s eyebrows raise at the mention of guilt, he makes no other comment on the surprisingly candid confession from his friend. “I get that.” He says slowly, settling down the gold necklace in his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m surprised you get it, but I get it.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry huffs as Blair rounds the corner and enters the room with a rack laden with black garment bags. “Don’t tell Niall I said that, alright?  He’ll never let me hear the end of it, and if he thinks I’m going soft— which I’m not—” Harry tacks on quickly. “He’ll start trying to fuck with me, and then I’ll have to rip off his ear, and it’ll be a whole thing.”

“My lips are sealed, man.” Adam laughs, gesturing over his shoulder to the clothing cart. “Shall we pick a dress for the lucky lady, then?”

A smirk paints its way onto Harry’s face. “Mhmm.  As long as you’re the one modeling it.”

///

A package arrives the next afternoon.

Like any Saturday when she isn’t working or with Harry, Y/N is home alone, trying to unwind from the previous week’s trials and tribulations.  Although she’s worked customer service jobs at home, working a customer service job in Los Angeles is a whole other demon, and she finds herself more exhausted than she’s ever been more often than she’s not.  It’s probably a good thing, she muses to herself over a cup of tea and her new copy of Sense and Sensibility, that she doesn’t have many friends in L.A., because she wouldn’t have the energy to go out with them anyways.  And honestly, she prefers it that way.  She’s learned to get along with her coworkers enough at her job that she doesn’t feel isolated, and sees Harry enough outside of work that she feels she has a shred of something resembling a social life.  Her quiet afternoons at home by herself are really a godsend, in a way.  They give her an opportunity to recharge to be present enough for social interactions during the week.  Being lonely can be a challenge, yes, but being alone is an entirely different thing, and it’s something that Y/N quite enjoys.

Which is why she’s so confused when her doorbell rings at 2:13 P.M. on a Saturday afternoon.

The moment the sound pricks her ears, Y/N pauses her reading, setting her book down on her lap as she sends a confused look towards the front door.  Her eyes slide to her phone next to her, tapping the screen to make sure she hasn’t missed any messages from anyone.  Harry, surely, would at least text her before showing up unplanned, wouldn’t he?

When her phone screen is found to be predictably blank, and the doorbell rings again, Y/N stumbles her way from her couch to the front door, her chain clanging against the frame as she unlocks it and pulls the door open.

A man she doesn’t know raises an eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and a spark of fear flickers in her stomach before she realizes he’s wearing a UPS uniform and holding a large brown package in his hands.

“Are you Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He asks, glancing down at the tablet in his hands. 

“Uh— yeah.  Yes, I am.” Y/N replies slowly, tugging the patchwork cardigan she’d stolen from Harry around her frame. “Hi?”

The UPS delivery man gives her a quizzical look. “Hi.” He repeats back to her in a monotone voice, extending the tablet in his hand. “Sign here, please.”

The urge to argue that she wasn’t expecting anything bubbles up in Y/N’s throat, but she tamps it down as she accepts the tablet, using the pen attached to the device to sign her name.  It’s probably from her mother, she thinks, scrawling her signature quickly before handing the tablet back.  Even though L.A. is famously a city without seasons, her mother has probably knit her two new blankets for the winter months, or sweaters, or some other woolen article of clothing that Y/N will have no use for.

The UPS delivery man swaps the tablet in her hand for the package in his, barely sparing Y/N another glance before retreating back down her hallway.  

“Um, thank you!” Y/N calls after him, shifting the surprisingly heavy package in her palms as she nudges the door shut with her socked foot.  

She carries the box to her living room, setting it down on her coffee table before pausing for a moment to double back and relock her front door (although she’s adjusted to living alone, the fear that’s been implanted in her from a young age about living in a big city still has a hold on her).

The box, she discovers upon further examination, has no return address, but it does sound like there’s multiple items inside when shaken.  And then Y/N remembers that she’s an adult, and should probably not be shaking a box when she doesn’t know what sits inside, so she sits back on her couch with a confused pout— until she once again remembers that she’s an adult, and can open a package addressed to herself.

It takes a moment of struggling to tear off the thick tape lining the seam of the box— a moment which would probably have been shorter if Y/N had retrieved a knife from the kitchen, truth be told— but the opening of the package makes the contents no more clear.  When she pulls back the top of the box, she finds sheets of packing tissue paper, which she tosses onto her living room floor without care to reveal the surprises inside.

And what a surprise the black and white box with Gucci stamped on top is.  Nearly as much a surprise as the second larger black and white Gucci box underneath, or the red and black box next to it labeled Christian Louboutin.

Y/N’s not quite sure how long she sits there staring at the packages in shock, but when she finally manages to unfreeze her limbs to take a sip of her tea, the liquid is considerably colder than it had been when she set it down to open the door.  The packages are so unexpected that it takes her a moment to realize that designer boxes typically contain designer items inside them, and maybe unpacking those will bring her greater insight into what the fuck is happening right now.

Of course, that’s not the case.  

Beginning with the smaller Gucci box, Y/N carefully extracts it from the brown container and sets it on her lap, untying the black ribbon encircling it as if she were dismantling a bomb.  When she lifts off the lid to find a matte black leather clutch purse with a gold Gucci emblem as the clasp, she almost thinks that a bomb would be preferable, because surely, there’s been a mistake.  Y/N certainly hasn’t purchased a Gucci clutch for herself, so it’s entirely likely that this was a gift for someone else, and the UPS man had just gotten the address wrong.  Yes, she thinks to herself, ghosting her fingers over the supple leather in shock, that must be it.  It’s a mistake.  And because it’s a mistake, she should back this all up and call UPS to have them fix it.

And then she remembers the UPS man had said her name, and that’s enough motivation to open the Christian Louboutin box next.

Based on the brand, Y/N suspected that the box would reveal a pair of shoes.  It’s still a shock, however, when she finds a pair of black satin heels that shine even in the low light of her apartment, with a satin ribbon death trap of an ankle tie, and signature red lacquered bottoms.

By the time Y/N reaches the third box, she’s moving on autopilot, her fingers robotically untying the black ribbon and lifting the lid without her instructing herself to do so.  The only words she can manage upon seeing the black cocktail dress is a gentle but emotive “What the fuck?”

The dress, she finds as she cautiously lifts it from the box, is made of satin, and is nothing she would ever purchase for herself in a million years.  The neckline dips into a low V, supported by off the shoulder cuffs, and Y/N can already tell by the cut of the fabric that if she were to slip it onto her body, the knee length dress would cling to her form.  And— Y/N shifts the dress into the light as her eyes widen in shock— as if that weren’t enough, there’s a leg slit that runs so high that Y/N flushes at the mere thought of her thigh peaking through.

It’s that detail, coupled with the suspicion that a single item of the package— let alone all three together— costs more than her rent that leads Y/N to the realization that only one person she knows could have sent all of this.

Folding the dress carefully back in the box and setting it to the side, Y/N fumbles to retrieve her phone from where she had left it earlier.  After unlocking it, she flips to her contacts and clicks on the familiar name, raising the device to her ear with a slow motion.

The phone rings four times before Harry’s voicemail crackles through the speaker. “Hi, you’ve reached Harry.  I can’t talk right now, but if you leave a message at the beep, I’ll try to get back to you.” There’s a moment of hesitation in the recording, and Y/N almost thinks she’s missed the beep before Harry’s accented voice returns. “Unless you’re Niall.” 

The expected beep finally sounds, and Y/N swallows hard as she tries to find the words she needs. “Hey, Harry, it’s, um, it’s Y/N.  I just received your package— I mean, I think it’s from you, because I don’t know who else would send me a Gucci dress— which I can’t accept, by the way.  That’s why I’m calling.  So, um,” She sucks in a harsh breath to give pause to her rambling before continuing. “Just— just call me back, alright?  Thanks.”

While Harry is usually attentive to every call and message from Y/N, her voicemail receives no reply, nor does her second phone call, or her third, or the four texts she sends to Harry in between.  By five P.M., she’s given up on hearing back from Harry at all, and is nearly resolved to pack up the box again and march it to Harry’s apartment when his signature sharp rap echoes on her front door.

Despite her frustration at receiving no reply from him, there’s an air of relief running through Y/N as she tightens the cardigan around herself and strides to her front door.  She unlocks it quickly, her greeting already falling from her lips before the door is even open.

“You better have a good reason for ignoring me all afternoon, Harry, because I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why—”

And then Y/N’s frantic eyes finally settle on the man before her, and the rest of her beration dies before it can leave her throat. 

Harry is leaning casually against her frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, as usual, and he’s dressed in a grey suit that clings to his body in a way that is so attractive, Y/N didn’t even think it was possible for a man to look this utterly flawless.  The suit fabric looks soft to the touch, more luxurious than anything Y/N could ever dream of, and the black silk shirt that lies underneath looks even softer. The human tries to not let herself focus on the way the shirt is slightly unbuttoned, showing off the inked swallows that decorate Harry’s muscled chest, as well as his usual cross necklace.  However, letting her eyes drift lower proves to be a mistake, as her gaze is immediately drawn to the black stripe that runs down the inseam of Harry’s pant legs, highlighting the muscles of his thighs in a way that makes her mouth water.  Even his shoes, black leather boots embroidered with gold dragons, are attractive in a way that Y/N doesn’t understand.

“Hello, darling.” Harry’s charming voice and dimpled smile pull the girl’s eyes back to his face just in time to see his lips drop into a discouraged frown.

Although Harry is usually greatly fond of seeing Y/N clad in cozy clothes with her hair in a messy ponytail (especially when his own cardigan is part of the ensemble), the look isn’t necessarily welcome at the moment. Yes, she looks adorable in her pastel blue pajama pants with cartoon sheep scattered all over the fabric. And yes, she looks incredibly cute swaddled in an oversized The Nightmare Before Christmas tee along with his patchwork coat. However, given the premise of the plans he’s drawn for tonight, her outfit is far from appropriate. Especially because he’d expected her to be wearing the dress he’d bought her along with the heels and clutch, dishing out a sexy but classy aesthetic rather than the ever-present lonely couch potato one.

He gives her entire body a quick, judgmental sweep, brows cinching. “I— why aren’t you ready?”

The confusion bubbling in Y/N’s mind molds into indignation at his words, albeit a hint of bewilderment lingers. “Ready for what?” Y/N demands, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at Harry expectantly. “I’ve been trying to call you all day about the dress, and you didn’t answer a single time, so I don’t know what—”

“The dress?” Harry’s brow draws together deeper, his easy going demeanor twisting to match Y/N’s within a moment. “Why were you calling about the dress?  Does it not fit?”

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the question. “I haven’t tried it on, Harry, I—”

“What?  Why not?”

“Because I can’t accept it!” Y/N exclaims, the suffix of obviously unspoken between them. “It’s way too expensive by itself, let alone with the shoes and the purse!”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Harry responds in a slow and careful voice. “Why don’t we step inside, love, and continue discussing this while you get ready, yeah?”

Y/N scoffs at the condescension in his voice, but does as he says, stepping back from the doorway and allowing Harry to walk inside before locking the door behind him. “Ready for what?” She demands again, following Harry’s path down the hallway to the living room. “You still haven’t told me!”

“Christ, Watson, I thought if I sent you a dress and heels, you’d figure it out!” Harry replies with a half-joking sigh, a degree of annoyance beginning to work its way into his tone as he touches the ribbon of one of the Gucci boxes. “You’re losing your touch, huh?”

“Okay, well, apparently I’m a little slow tonight, so fill me in, Sherlock.” Y/N matches Harry’s snippy remark with ease, pinching the bridge of her nose as her head begins to throb in irritation. “What’s going on?  What obvious clue have I missed?”

“I sent you the outfit for you to wear—”

“I figured that much out, thanks.”

Harry’s emerald eyes snap to hers in an exasperated flat glance before continuing. “—to dinner.  I made us a reservation at my favourite Italian place, and I thought that the dress and the shoes would be enough of a hint that I could keep the rest a surprise.” He gathers the ribbon with his fingers again, rubbing the fabric between them as his face drops its usual haughty front. “You really didn’t...you didn’t try it on?  Do you not like it?”

The disappointed hesitation threaded through Harry’s thick accent stops Y/N short, worming its way into her aggravated chest and leaving a spark of guilt behind. When she speaks again, her voice is dulled by genuine warmth, less sharp and pointed and more soothing and grateful. “I...I do like it.  It’s a lovely dress; a little more body-hugging than what I would’ve picked, truthfully, but it’s beautiful.” Y/N offers Harry a soft teasing smile before continuing. “I just...I can’t accept something so expensive from you.”

“Why not?” Harry’s brows re-furrow in sheer confusion as he drops the ribbon from his grip, turning to face her fully. “It’s just a dress, Y/N—”

“It’s a Gucci dress.  And purse.  And Louboutin shoes.” Y/N states with a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms over her abdomen as she drops her gaze to the rug she’d picked out from IKEA. “It’s too much, Harry.  I know you meant well, but I can never...I could never pay you back for this, or give you something as nice, or…”

A disheartened pout tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as he registers the mortal’s words.  It hadn’t occurred to him that his gift could be perceived negatively; he’d just thought she’d like it. He likes to think their friendship is in comfortable enough territory now that gifts wouldn't be a turnoff, especially because of how much more time they’ve been spending together outside of the bedroom. However, as he stands here now watching her hug herself in the living room of the tiny apartment she’d told him she was so proud to afford, he can see how wrong he’d been in that assumption.  Y/N is independent, and has been from the moment he met her.  A gift like this— so extravagant and expensive— could come off as him mocking her financial status, almost, even if it had originally been bought with good intentions.

Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth as something that feels a lot like embarrassment begins to boil in his stomach.  She’ll feel like she owes him something, when that’s the farthest thing from the truth.  If anything, it’s long overdue payment for everything Harry has unknowingly taken from her.  

“I don’t care about that.” Voice dropping quieter, Harry takes a step forward, his cool fingers wiggling their way between hers and pulling her arm from her tummy.  Once her hand is within his grasp, he squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over the back of her knuckles. He talks slowly, keeping his tone level and honest to communicate the real innocence behind his prestigious present. “I don’t need you to pay me back, and I don’t want you to feel bad.  The money thing— that’s not an issue for me.  And I understand if...it makes you uncomfortable…” His gaze flickers to the ground as well before meeting hers again. “I can take it back if you’d like, if it bothers you that much.  But I was hoping…” 

He rubs his finger over his cherry lips pensively, taking a moment to clear his throat before continuing. “Well.  The reservation is already made, I’m already dressed— and looking like a proper stud, if I may say so myself—” He laughs once in an attempt to lighten the mood, his eyes glued to Y/N’s face to see if she takes to the joke. He feels cool relief flood his veins when she scoffs slightly, the edges of her mouth ticking upwards humorously. “And you’ll match me so well in that dress that it’ll probably put me to shame, dove.”

Y/N glimpses up at him hesitantly, squeezing his fingers with a playful air. “You’re really good with words, y’know that?”

“I like to think I’m good at quite a few things.” Harry grins suggestively, cheekily squeezing her grasp right back. “And I hope I can add ‘getting you all dolled up and convincing you to come along to dinner with me’ to that list. So...what do you say?”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she mulls over the suggestion, her fingers grazing over the lionhead ring on Harry’s hand.  He has gone to a lot of trouble, she thinks, glancing over his appearance one more time.  His curls are carefully coiffed, his skin is practically glowing, his trusty cross necklace glints alluringly in the buttery lighting, alongside a small gold hoop on his pierced ear, and the way the suit fits over his body, hugging every flexing muscle and annunciating every hypnotizing curve… 

“What time is the reservation?” She finally asks, eyes flickering to the clock on her wall that reads ten after five.

Harry’s eyes follow hers. “Seven.” He says immediately, licking his lips once as he grips her hand in anticipation again. “We have plenty of time to make it, if— if you want to.”

It could’ve easily been the money Harry spent on the clothing that sways Y/N to say yes.  It could’ve been the humiliation of not realizing what he was planning and ruining his surprise.  But in reality, the thing that causes the next sentence to fall from Y/N’s mouth is the quiet weariness in Harry’s tone— a certain shyness that she hasn’t seen in him before, paired with a specific type of subtle raw hope that makes her heart absolutely melt.

“Alright.” She murmurs, nodding her head once as she draws away from his touch. “I’ll go shower, then, and get ready.  Are you alright waiting out here?”

A relieved smile jolts at the corner of Harry’s lips as he easily nods in return. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.  I’d offer to hop in with you, but…” He gestures to himself vaguely as his grin widens with conceited teasing, shrugging one shoulder offhandedly as if what he says next should be obvious. “We wouldn’t want to ruin perfection, now would we?”

The jesting response pulls an eye roll from the human girl. “Uh huh.” She snorts, snatching her phone from the coffee table as she begins to make her way to the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” Harry calls after her, slipping his own phone from his pocket.  The click of the door lock pricks his ears, but he waits until he hears the shower running to unlock his device and dial the restaurant number.

“Bella Vita Ristorante, how many I help you?”

Harry exhales hard as he rubs a hand over his eyes, his head falling back to hang off his shoulders as his mind recalculates the evening’s plans, shifting things out of place to mold everything around this minor hiccup. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible, swallowing down the instinctive bothered bite threatening to elbow through. “May I speak to Vincenzo, please?”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” There’s a shuffling on the other end of the line, and Harry’s gaze slides to the Rolex on his wrist as he waits, not nearly as patient as he knows he should be.

“Hello?” A familiar rough Italian accent echoes through the phone speaker, followed by a light clearing of the person’s throat. “This is Vincenzo.”

“Ciao, Vincenzo, é Harry.” Hi, Vincenzo, it’s Harry. He answers in Italian on reflex, gliding his hand over his lips once more as he fights the urge to tug on his styled hair. “Come stai?” How are you?

Friendly excitement breaks into the man’s voice the second the vampire makes his identity known. “Signor Styles, sto bene, grazie! Non vedo l'ora di vedere te e la tua ospite stasera.” Mr. Styles, I’m well, thank you! I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest tonight.

Harry glances at the bathroom door symbolically, exhaling curtly through his nose. His tone comes out apologetic and unsure. “Sì, chiamo di stasera.  Abbiamo riscontrato un piccolo problema.  C'è un modo per spingere la prenotazione da sei a sette?” Yes, I’m calling about tonight.  We ran into a little problem.  Is there any way we can push the reservation from six to seven?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Harry waits with bated breath for Vincenzo’s reply. The waiter’s response flows through the phone with a rueful heaviness that makes the immortal’s stomach plummet. “Siamo molto impegnati stasera, Harry… È un sabato, dopotutto.” We’re very busy tonight, Harry… It’s a Saturday, after all.

A frustrated sigh falls from Harry’s lips as he scratches at the nape of his neck, once again itching to yank at his curls but forcing himself to refrain the impulse. “Lo so, Vincenzo, e mi dispiace chiederti il ​​favore, ma devo. Sai che te lo devo e ti lascio una generosa mancia.” I know, Vincenzo, and I’m sorry to ask you such a favour, but I have to.  You know I’ll owe you, and I’ll leave a generous tip.

When Vincenzo replies, the hesitation in his voice is gone, replaced by reassurance and familiar fondness. “No, no, Harry, non mi devi niente. Per te, non è un problema. Gli amici aiutano gli amici per gentilezza, lo sai. Mi assicurerò che il tuo tavolo sia pronto per le sette.” No, no, Harry, you don’t owe me anything.  For you, this is no problem.  Friends help friends out of kindness, you know that. I’ll make sure your table is ready for seven.

Harry heaves a grand sigh of relief, a wide smile cracking his face in half. His head swings forward as a light laugh falls from his ruby lips, all tension washing out of his strong shoulders in one swift wave. “Grazie mille. Ti devo, lo fare.” Thank you so much.  I owe you, I do.

His friend’s casual demeanor filters through the phone with a dismissive click of his tongue, and Harry can practically see the older man waving his hand passively. “Senza senso. Ci vediamo più tardi, sì?” Nonsense.  I will see you later, yes?

“Sì. Grazie ancora. Ciao, Vincenzo.” Yes.  Thank you again.  Goodbye, Vincenzo.

As Harry hangs up the phone, he feels a weight lift off his chest.  He knows that it wouldn’t have been a problem if Vincenzo had been unable to move the reservation; all it would’ve taken is a few words of persuasion at the host stand, and Harry would’ve been able to waltz right into the restaurant.  But Vincenzo has been kind to him— has been such a good friend, really— and Harry would hate to tarnish that relationship.

With the new reservation secured, Harry tucks his phone back into his suit pocket, turning his attention to the gifts he’d brought Y/N that are still in their boxes.  He removes the satin dress from its packaging, meticulously folding it over his arm as he snags the clutch and heels with his hands and carries them to Y/N’s room.

Harry nudges the door to the bedroom open with his foot, hesitating in the door frame as Y/N’s familiar honey and lavender scent fills his senses, and the vampire’s gaze slinks over a place he’s spent countless hours in as she’s slept soundly next to him.  There’s been a few changes, he observes— warm satisfaction begins to bloom in his chest when he sees the tapestry on the wall has been replaced with the framed Monet print from the antique mall, her half emptied overnight bag is lying on her chair still from her last overnight stay at his condo, and the comforter on her bed hasn’t been fixed back in its usual place.  Harry sets the Louboutins on the ground before tugging the comforter back into order, draping the dress onto the bed and smoothing the creases that formed.  After he lays the clutch down next to the dress, Harry steps back and admires his choices.  It was good that he’d gone with the black satin, he thinks, brushing a hand over the shining fabric with a fulfilled expression.  It’s simple, yet elegant, and matches him perfectly, which brings a flutter of pleasure to his dormant chest like nothing else.

With the dress sufficiently laid out, Harry turns on his heel to leave, and his quick movement blows an unfamiliar scent around the room.  Harry inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose in response to the thick fragrance of carnations and cedar that settle into his senses.  While cedar isn’t one of his favourite scents, he doesn’t usually mind it, but the overpowering presence of carnations nearly gags him, and Harry twists back around to find the source of the offensive stench.

It only takes a second for his eyes to settle on the cause, a new addition to Y/N’s bedroom that he hadn’t noticed when he first walked in.  He takes one stride across the small room to her bedside table, picking up the object with a gentle grip.

The picture frame is made entirely of glass, but has a decorative gold edge lining the small rectangle as both decoration and protection of delicate hands from sharp corners.  In the center of the frame is a photo of three girls dressed in navy blue caps and gowns with red and white sashes around their necks, their arms thrown around each other as their posture curves, and bright smiles on all of their faces.  Although she looks years younger, her hair is longer, and her eyes more naive, Harry recognizes Y/N on the left right away.  The identities of the other two girls, however, stump him.

Of course he wouldn’t recognize them on sight, as Harry has never met any of Y/N’s hometown friends, but his ruby lips drop into a frown when he realizes that he can’t even conjure a name for either of the girls.  No first initial, no general idea— just nothing.  They’re ghosts to him.

Harry traces a finger down the younger Y/N’s face, searching for any part of the woman he knows now in the girl who existed then.  The acne on her cheeks that she’s covered in makeup for the photo match the pattern of light scarring she has on her face, small marks that Harry’s traced in the dead of the night as he listens to her breathe.  Her eyes, while younger, do show a faint glimmer of that stubbornness that he’s been so prone to witnessing.  But it’s her smile, Harry realizes, that is the most different.  While the size and shape of it are the same, there’s a dullness to it that digs into his mind, scraping against his every perception of her.  This is around the time she’d have been with her ex, he remembers, dragging a finger down the edge of the frame.  But what else was life like for her there?  She had friends, obviously, friends who still care about her enough to send her this framed photo drenched in their carnation and cedar scent.  Life couldn’t have been all that bad.

He sets the framed photo back down on her bedside table, scanning the room with a keen eye more closely than he had before.  If he tore through every book on her wall of shelves, would he find any inscriptions written to her from a person in her past?  Notes that had been slipped between herself and others in high school science class, still pressed between yellowed pages as bookmarks?  What if he dug into her bedside table drawer?  Would he find more pictures, letters from those she’d left behind?  It’s strange to think that with all the time Harry has spent in this room, there’s still so many secrets buried within its four glossy walls.

Harry settles his gaze onto the silk dress once again, worrying his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he does so.  Y/N had been worried that a Gucci dress wouldn’t be a good fit for her, and while Harry had thought she meant she couldn’t wear a designer brand, maybe she’d meant she didn’t want to.  Maybe her hesitation didn’t lie in just the cost of the outfit, but in her not wanting something so extravagant.

Sucking in a short breath through his teeth, Harry clears his mind of the thought.  Y/N wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t want to, he assures himself, quickly adjusting the hem of the dress on the bed.  And besides, it’s just for a few hours.  She’ll be out of the dress soon enough, and into…

Harry turns back to her vanity, swiping the overnight bag from where he’d spotted it on the chair.  A pair of sweatpants already lies inside, but Harry still tugs open Y/N’s dresser and snags another pair, as well as a comfortable t-shirt for her to sleep in.  He packs two pairs of fresh panties as well, one high-waisted cotton and another a cheeky pretty lace (the latter is definitely for selfish reasons, if he’s being honest) along with Y/N’s favourite pair of fuzzy slipper socks, because he knows how her feet get cold on the tile of his kitchen floor in the mornings.  

The image in his head brings a smile to his face as he grabs a few hair ties from her vanity and throws them into the bag, along with her half empty bag of makeup removers.  She always gets a chill in the morning in general, so she normally emerges from his bedroom with one of his sweaters tugged around her tired body, half mumbling incoherently until Harry slides a cup of coffee into her hands.  In truth, sleeping next to his icy body probably does nothing to help the mortal, but Harry just tries to wrap her in an extra blanket to help remedy the situation.

Just as he’s tugging the zipper on the back shut, he hears the creak of the bathroom door, followed by the soft steps of Y/N’s feet against the runner rug down her hallway.  Harry straightens up just as the bedroom door is nudged open, and whatever sharp comment was on the tip of his tongue dies away as he sees Y/N.

She’s already done her hair, having styled it into soft curls that are pinned back from her face with two gold clasps on either side of her head, and if Harry were in a more comprehensive mindset, he’d be pleased that the gold will match the adornments on the clutch.  But Harry isn’t in a comprehensive mindset, due to the fact that Y/N’s body, still damp from her shower, is wrapped in only the smallest blue towel Harry has ever seen.

After Y/N shuts the door behind her, she turns around and sees Harry standing in her bedroom with a bag in his hand, and she clutches the towel tighter to her chest in surprise. “Harry—” Her heartbeat stutters as she locks eyes with the creature before her, her cheeks immediately flushing with heat. “What are you doing?  I said to wait in the living room!”

“I know.” He licks his lips slowly as his eyes flicker down her figure and back again, the bright emerald darkening to jade when he meets her gaze once more. “I was just laying out your outfit.  Although now that you’re here, wearing only that—” He gestures to the towel with his free hand as the edge of his lips curl. “Why don’t we just cut out the middleman and have a quick shag?”

Y/N scoffs in response, pushing her way past her lover to her dresser drawers. “I already showered, H, and I even put effort into my hair, so we have to go out.  Can’t waste it, y’know?” With her hand wrapped around the handle of her dresser, the human girl pauses, her gaze drifting curiously from Harry’s face to the bag clutched in his grasp. “What’s that?”

It takes a moment for Harry’s attention to turn from Y/N’s glistening cleavage to the object she’s nodding towards. “Oh, I— uh— I packed an overnight bag for you.” He clears his throat as he sets the bag on the bed, taking a step back from the item like it’s a ticking bomb. “It’s not— I’m not insinuating that you have to stay over if you don’t want to, of course. And you don’t have to use it, but I just thought that if you decided to, you’d want something comfy to sleep in.”

“How is it,” Y/N laughs softly, her curls bouncing as she shakes her head in disbelief. “That you can go from saying you want to fuck me to telling me you packed me an overnight bag, all in the span of one minute?”

Harry presses into the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he chuckles, dimples winking awake and eyes glimmering all at once. “S’easy, really, when you look like that.  It makes me horny—”

“Everything makes you horny.”

“—but I’m still a gentleman.”

A low hum echoes from Y/N’s throat as she opens her underwear drawer, surveilling the contents before she begins to rummage for what she’s looking for. “Alright then.  Would the gentleman be so kind as to step outside so I can finish getting ready?”

Y/N hears two quiet footsteps behind her before she can feel Harry’s cool breath on her neck, her damp skin prickling at the sensation.

“Do I really have to step outside?” He groans lowly as his lips graze the shell of Y/N’s ear temptingly, and she shivers when his teeth follow behind. “S’nothing I haven’t seen before.”

There’s a nagging temptation in the back of Y/N’s mind to twist around on her heel, drop her towel to the ground, give into Harry’s half-hypnotic seduction, and let him drag her back to her bed to take care of the heat that’s beginning to swell between her thighs.  But she knows she’s already pushing the seven P.M. deadline, and if she allows herself to take that detour, she’ll never make it on time.

“Yes.” She mumbles, suppressing a whine as Harry’s lips move to the pulse point on her neck, smudging open kisses down her heated skin. “I just need to do my makeup and get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

A disappointed sigh rustles across the shell of her ear. “Alright.” Harry murmurs defeatedly, smudging one last kiss to her jugular before stepping back from her intoxicating cloud of flowers and sugar that, if the burn in the back of his throat is any indication, is doubly intense from her shower. “I’ll just be outside then, doll.  Take your time.”

Y/N keeps her back to Harry, clutching her towel with a clenched hand until she hears the click of her bedroom door shutting behind him.  She knows that if she looks at him again, and sees that stupidly suggestive smirk on his face, she’d give him whatever he wants— which, considering she’s already trying to do that by going to this dinner, is a bit of a problem.  Once he’s gone, however, she’s free to heave an exhale of relief as she searches for the undergarments she’s pictured in her mind.

While Y/N was in the shower, she’d been trying to picture what she would wear with the expensive dress that Harry had purchased for her.  She only has one strapless bra— a nude coloured cotton contraption, which she’d purchased at a Target last minute for a dinner party a neighbour had thrown back home a few years ago— and she didn’t think that pairing the cheap article with a Gucci dress was going to work.  Some of her friends back home, however, had just mailed her a little care package earlier in the week, and one of the things they’d included was a strapless bustier with a note reading “Here’s to getting L.A.’d!” tucked inside.  They’d meant it as a joke, of course, but as Y/N extracts the lace garment from her drawer, she sends a silent thank you to her friends and their strangely omniscient humour.

Y/N releases her grip on her towel, drying the rest of the dampness from her body quickly before tossing the fabric over the back of her closet door.  After selecting a matching pair of black lace panties, Y/N slips the undergarments on, fidgeting with the bustier to get it to sit right.

A gentle knock echoes from the other side of her bedroom door just as she gets the clothing settled. “How’s it going in there, love?” Harry’s voice floats through the crack in the door, half muffled through the barrier. “Have you got the dress on yet?”

“Not yet,” Y/N calls back, sitting down at her vanity as she analytically surveys her makeup. “Patience is a virtue, Holmes, don’t you know that?”

On the other side of the door, Harry lets out a long sigh, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers along the inside of his elbow. “Yeah, well,” He leans his back against the door, sliding one ankle over the other as he lets the wood support his weight. “‘M not very virtuous, Watson.  I think you can attest to that.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the wooden door, a smug smile peaking onto his lips as he hears the blood rush to Y/N’s cheeks from inside the room. “What?” He taunts, satisfaction laced into his accent. “Cat got your tongue?”

Pressing his head back against the wood to hear better, Harry is met with the sound of a makeup brush sweeping against Y/N’s silky skin, so quiet that human ears could never detect it.  He focuses his attention a little harder to try and picture the steps of her getting ready routine as she performs them. 

A rustling of fabric that sounds a lot like lace pricks his ears, taking his attention with it as Y/N grumbles a reply. “You’re such an ass.”

“Ah, nevermind, then.  Tongue’s still there, and as sharp as ever, I see.” Harry chuckles lowly as he listens to the nearly silent stroking of mascara over Y/N’s lashes.  

He likes that, he realizes, as he raises one hand from its crossed position to rub over his pillowy lips while he waits.  He likes hearing the muted sounds of Y/N getting ready— the bristling of makeup brushes against her skin, the hushed hums that leave her mouth as she debates over what colours to use on her eyelids, the muffled spritz of her perfume bottle against her neck.  The notes of poppies and vanilla mix with her natural scent of lavender and honey, and Harry’s eyelids flutter when the fragrance rolls under the door and envelops him completely.

It takes a harsh bite of his tongue and digging his fingernails into his clenched palms for Harry to restrain the moan fighting to break through his tightened jaw.  Months ago, when he first smelled Y/N in that club, he’d sworn that she smelled more delicious than any aroma he’d ever encountered, but now… Harry wants to laugh at the naivety of his past self, and probably would, if unclenching his jaw didn’t mean letting a growl fall from his throat.  Now, he’s convinced Y/N’s scent is an aphrodisiac created just for him.  All it takes is one small inhale, and his entire body responds.  Even now, as he presses his pounding head back against the panel, he can feel his mouth flooding with venom, his abdomen tightening, and a subtle throb beginning to bulge his—

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice breaks through the cloud of arousal dulling Harry’s senses. “Can you help me zip up the dress?”

The vampire swallows the excess venom in his mouth in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He replies, his voice strained as he struggles to regain control of himself.  He clutches the door handle in his icy hand, pushing the barrier open with restrained strength. “Yeah, I can.”

When he steps into the room, he expects to see Y/N facing the door, her hands clutching the loose dress to her chest the way she’d clutched her towel earlier.  For a moment, there’s a flicker of excitement in Harry’s belly that beats back the desire rolling around inside him.  He’s been waiting to see her in his dress for only a day, but it feels like an eternity, and he pastes a charming smile onto his face as he lifts his eyes to meet Y/N’s.

What he’s greeted with, however, is the smooth expanse of the girl’s exposed back, a clear line of tantalizing skin running from the nape of her neck to the curve just below her backside, only broken up by a thick band of black lace with satin ribbing.  

While he was able to control himself in the hallway, the inside of Y/N’s bedroom— with her mouthwatering scent surrounding him and her exposed skin in his line of sight— is an entirely different story.  Harry can feel the way his canopy green eyes darken, and it’s a good thing Y/N is facing the wall, or else she’d see the shards of crimson that he can’t stop from flitting across his irises.  With every step he takes towards the human, he becomes more aware of just how mortal she is— how her heart pounds louder with each passing moment, the shallowness of her breathing as he gets closer, the heat radiating off of every inch of her skin.  Even with his centuries of experience behind him, it’s nearly too much for Harry, whose every instinct is screaming at him to lock the door and ravage the girl in front of him in every way he can.

Harry doesn’t stop walking until the front of his chest brushes against Y/N’s back and his breath is hitting her neck.  He unhurriedly skims his palms over her bare shoulders, feeling the goosebumps that form underneath his icy touch as his hands run down her arms and back up again.

“This…” His voice is thick with desire as one hand travels down the trail of Y’N’s spine, eliciting a shiver from her before grazing the edge of the black lace. “This is new.  I haven’t seen this before.”

“I…” Y/N’s speech falters as she feels Harry’s freezing digits trail down the small of her back as his other hand continues to stroke across her shoulder, barely touching the base of her neck with each movement. “I got it from my friends back home.  They, um—” She sucks in a harsh breath as Harry’s hand inches its way towards her throat. “They sent me a package.”

Harry hums low in her ear, the sound vibrating throughout her body before settling in her warming tummy. “Did they?  How thoughtful.” With his palm finally at her neck, he squeezes it once, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her jugular as his lips brush against the top of her ear. “I should send them a thank you note.”

The feeling of Y/N swallowing beneath his grip sends another wave of desire crashing over Harry, and he bites back a low growl as the fingertips of his other hand find the golden Gucci emblem zipper at the back of her dress.  When he does, he tugs the metal tag up slowly, the sound of the zip barely audible over Y/N’s ragged breathing. 

“S’a shame, really.” Harry murmurs in her ear, letting his teeth graze her earlobe just hard enough to catch her breath. “A crying shame.”

“What—” Y/N’s heart pounds out of her chest as Harry squeezes her neck once more, applying just a smidge more pressure than he did previously. “What’s a shame?”

Harry’s lips trail down her jaw, smearing a single kiss along the dip where it curves to meet her neck. His fingers squeeze her one last time before releasing. “That this pretty little piece your friends sent you is going to end up ripped to shreds on my bedroom floor.” 

The blunt reply incites a squeak of surprise from Y/N as Harry tugs the zipper completely to the top of the dress, settling the seam flat against her flushed back before stepping away.

“Fits like a glove.” Harry murmurs as his hands return to his sides, fixing the fall of his own suit that was disturbed during his previous actions.  He raises a single finger and makes a twirling motion as he dimples a smirk the human girl can’t see. “Give me a twirl, will you, dove?”

Y/N inhales a deep breath as steadily as she can, using the moment to calm her racing pulse before turning around to face Harry with a flustered complexion. 

The dress, made of black satin, has a sweetheart neckline that sits off her shoulders, and hugs tight to the curves of her body all the way down to the hem, which sits just above her knees.  It could be considered conservative, really, if it weren’t for the leg slit running so far up her thigh that Y/N is a little worried about flashing her underwear every time she takes a step.

Harry, however, seems to share none of those concerns, as he hungrily drinks in the sight of her with a satisfied grin and lust swirling through his jade irises.  She’s kept her makeup fairly neutral, save for the bold red lipstick adorning her lips, and while Harry feels a prick of sadness at the realization that he’ll have difficulty kissing her throughout the evening, the idea of smearing said lipstick across her face afterwards erases the feeling completely.  And the dress… “Y’look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, angel.” He hums lowly, rubbing his thumb over his lionhead ring absentmindedly. “So much better than Adam did, and without all the complaining, too.”

Y/N stares at her lover with a blank expression “What—?”

“Does it feel alright?” Harry strides around the mortal girl, examining the fall of the fabric with a keen eye. “I took a guess on your size, though I think I did pretty well. I've licked every inch of your body to the point where I practically have it memorized, so it was relatively easy.” He gives her a cheeky grin as his hand grazes her waist. “But Gucci sizing can be a bit tricky.”

“It— yeah.  It feels alright.” Y/N tugs on the hem of the dress as she feels heat crackle across her ears, shooting him an accusing stare as she touches the thigh slit. “This is a little much, but other than that…”

“That’s my favourite detail, actually.” Harry laughs lightly as he walks to her bed, taking a seat on the edge before reaching for the Louboutin box. “But it’ll feel a lot more natural once you have the heels on.”

“Uh, yeah, about those…” Y/N eyes the offending shoes as Harry extracts them from the packaging, doubt painting itself all over her face. “Those look like six inch deathtraps, and I don’t really trust something that uses a ribbon to attach itself to my ankle, so I think I’ll take a raincheck on the heels.  I have some flats I can wear instead.”

Harry scoffs, a snort echoing from the back of his throat as he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine, love.  I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  You may not trust the shoes, but you can trust me, can’t you?” He unravels the ribbon from one of the shoes and pats his knee expectantly. “C’mere.  I’ll make sure I tie them nice and tight, yeah?”

Y/N nearly chews on her bottom lip before she remembers the lipstick she’d carefully applied earlier. “Alright.” She relents, walking over and lifting her foot to rest on his bent knee. “But if I snap my ankle in half, you’re paying my hospital bill.”

“And I would do so gladly, except it won’t be necessary.” A quiet chuckle rolls out of Harry’s lips as he grips her calf gently, fitting her foot into the sole of the heel with one smooth motion.  Once it’s sitting nicely, Harry diligently wraps the satin ribbon around her ankle, stopping midway up her calf before tying it tightly into a neat bow. “See?  Nice and secure, darling.  You’ll be alright.”

Y/N’s cheeks boil as Harry presses a single kiss to the slope of her knee before setting her foot gently on the ground. “Next one, please.” He smiles up at her with a twinkle in his sea glass eyes.

That twinkle, however, darkens the moment Y/N hikes her other bare foot onto his knee, gripping his shoulder for support as she teeters on one heel.  The leg that she’s lifting is the side of the dress with the thigh slit, and she can tell from the expression on Harry’s face that he has quite the view.

Just like he did previously with the zipper, Harry takes his time slipping Y/N’s foot into the second stiletto.  He trails his fingers all the way up her calf and back down before reaching for the ribbon, and is more meticulous in his motions as he ties the satin around her calf.  

Y/N swivels on her other foot as she tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders, fisting the fabric of his suit between her fingers. “Thanks, H.” She clears her throat as Harry’s cool hands keep their grip on her lower leg, massaging the muscle beneath his fingers with careful and concise motions. “That’s, um, that’s good, I think.”

Harry hums in response, letting her know he’s registered her words, but he doesn’t release her from his grip.  Instead, he bends at his hips, making sure that Y/N can still grasp him for support as he connects his lips to the smooth skin of her calf.

He smudges his mouth all along the area up to her knee, each kiss sloppy and open-mouthed as he inhales more and more of her intense fragrance.  His nose nudges along the tender and dimpled flesh of her thigh, her scent growing stronger the higher Harry gets, and it burns his aching throat with lust and thirst.  He can feel the heat radiating from her core, and he wants nothing more than to burrow his face between her legs and lose himself completely in her taste.  But he’s already come so far, and put so much work into this night; he can’t let it all go to waste because his self-control is particularly weak at this moment. 

With that in mind, he sucks in another long breath, sponging one last kiss to the top of Y/N’s kneecap. “Does it all fit nicely?” He asks, voice gravelly with desire as he squeezes her calf. “The dress, the shoes… is it all alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” Y/N whispers, releasing the fabric of Harry’s jacket before it creases, smoothing it with her palms. “It all fits good.”

“Mmm.  Perfect.” His lips twitch against her skin as he drags another searing breath into his lungs. “Anything I give you always fits so fucking good.”

Another flash of heat rises to Y/N’s cheeks, and she nods weakly in response, not trusting her ability to form words. A quiet hum is the only comprehensible noise she can manage. “Mhmm.” 

Harry straightens up the slightest bit, giving her an expectant look as he releases the grip of one hand on her calf to lightly touch the shell of his pierced ear. “Sorry, pet.  Didn’t hear you quite clearly.” He says, his voice taking on a sterner tone. “Did you agree?”

Although embarrassment begins to crawl up Y/N’s spine, it quickly mixes with irritation.  She knows what he’s getting at, and she can’t afford to let herself give in. “Yeah.” She mumbles, keeping her response as short as she can.

Despite the edge beginning to creep into Y/N’s voice, Harry can’t stop himself from pressing the matter.  He never can, really, when he’s in a mood like this.  When his mouth is filled with venom, when his head is throbbing so much that he can hear a steady drumbeat vibrating through his skull.  He can’t stop.

“M’gonna need to hear you say it, I’m afraid.” He raises his ringed hand to the human girl’s chin, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her with a firm and conceited gaze. “Speak up, minx.  I know you have no issue with being loud.”

All it takes is that one reminder for all of Y/N’s resolve to fall away, her entire body flooding with warmth as she lets out a trembling sigh.  She swallows the weight in her throat down as much as she can, pinning her eyes to where Harry is gripping her calf with a strong hand. “Everything you give me always fits so good.” She whispers, her voice higher than it was a moment before.

Harry squeezes the backside of her knee once. “Look me in the eyes when you say it.”

Y/N’s entire body feels as if it’s on fire as sweat begins to bead across her forehead, but her mouth is as dry as a desert. She swallows thickly once more, gathering all the composure she can muster. “Everything—” Her voice cracks once, and she clears her throat as Harry’s thumb sweeps across her chin in an encouraging manner. “Everything you give me always fits so good.”

When she completes the task, Harry gropes her knee once more, but this time the action is a show of satisfaction rather than demand.  He trails his fingers up her bent leg to her thigh, only stopping to dig his fingertips into the crease where her backside begins to plump. “That’s my good girl.”

Delicately setting Y/N’s heeled foot back on the ground, Harry rises from the bed, both of her hands grasped in his own to help her remain steady.  Once he’s eye level with his lover once again, he leans forward and stamps a chaste kiss onto her forehead, his lips already tugging into a small grin before he pulls away.

“Y’ready to go, then?” He questions casually, smoothing the thumb of his right hand over her knuckles as his left hand snags the Gucci clutch from the bed, along with Y/N’s phone.  He unclaps the clutch and settles the phone into its silk lining before handing the bag to the human girl.  

Y/N clears her throat once more as she takes a shaky step towards her vanity, grabbing the lipstick she’d applied before and tossing it into the bag, clasping it shut with a final snap. “I suppose so.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she shoots Harry a nervous glance. “I might need you to carry me down the stairs of my building, though.”

Harry laughs once as he grabs the overnight bag he’d packed with one hand and reclaims Y/N’s left hand in the other. “Don’t worry, pet.  I’ll make sure Cinderella doesn’t lose a shoe.  Or break an ankle.”

“Thanks, Prince Charming.”

“Considering I’m the one that got the dress, I think the Fairy Godmother role fits just a smidge better.”

///

Although it takes careful steps, more than a few stumbles, and Harry’s hand wrapped securely around her waist, Y/N manages to make it down the multiple flights of stairs in her apartment building to Harry’s car waiting below.  After the ten minute car ride into downtown L.A., the majority of which is spent with Harry’s hand sitting perfectly still on Y/N’s exposed thigh, the vampire pulls the car in front of a large restaurant with a line of well-dressed parties winding down the sidewalk.

The restaurant itself, Bella Vita, is one that Y/N’s heard of in passing, but has never experienced firsthand herself, probably because it holds a reputation for being the premier Italian restaurant in all of Los Angeles.  Shock covers her features as she stares out the car window at the grand glass double doors, but only for a moment; after all, could she have expected anything less from Harry, who seems to indulge in luxuries the way most people do chocolate?

When the passenger side door swings open, the surprise returns as Y/N glances up and sees a blonde man she doesn’t know dressed in a suit holding the door open.  The breast of his outfit is embroidered with the restaurant name, but it’s not until Harry, who has already vacated the driver’s side and is behind him, flips the valet his keys.

“Thanks, mate.” Thinly veiled irritation works its way through Harry’s voice as he steps in front of the valet, clapping his large hand over the employee’s shoulder. “I got it from here.”

The valet nods curtly, releasing his grip on the door as Harry extends his hand to Y/N.  The mortal girl grasps it within her own, eager to receive the help he offers as she swings her exposed legs out of the low car and onto the ground. 

“There we go, love.” Harry’s voice softens as he pulls her to stand, giving her a moment to find her balance on her own before sliding his arm around her hips. “Y’alright?”

“I’m fine.” Y/N nods in confirmation as she folds her arms in front of her body, grasping the Gucci clutch in tight hands while she appraises the packed high-end restaurant. “I see why you insisted on the dress now.”

A low laugh rumbles from Harry’s chest as he shuts the car door with his free hand. “I told you, you need to trust me more.  Have a little faith.” He extends his palm towards the valet, shaking his hand quickly and smoothly while sliding him a bill. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo retracts his hand from Harry’s icy grasp with another respectful nod of his head, slipping the bill into the inside pocket of his suit. “Of course, Mr. Styles.  Enjoy your dinner.”

Y/N watches as the valet hurries to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in and starting the engine with ease as Harry begins to lead Y/N to the door. 

“So…” She quirks an eyebrow as Harry confidently bypasses the long line of people waiting to be seated. “You’re Mr. Styles here, are you?  Do you come here that often?”

Harry lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, releasing his grip on Y/N’s waist to open the large glass door for her. “Every once in a while, I suppose.” He quips, the answer as non-committal as most things Harry says.  Once Y/N steps into the restaurant, the vampire follows closely behind, clutching her warm hand in his own as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “But I wouldn’t say it’s too often—”

“Harry!”

An older man that looks to be in his mid-seventies emerges from behind the corner, dressed in a fine suit and with an animated grin on his tan, weathered face.  He waves off the host at the stand who had been about to approach the two new guests, his arms already outstretched towards Harry.

“Vincenzo!” Harry responds with equal enthusiasm as he lets go of Y/N’s hand to clutch Vincenzo’s between his palms.  He leans forward and pecks two air kisses onto the employee’s cheeks as the older man does the same. “È così bello rivederti. Come stai?” It’s so nice to see you again.  How are you?

Y/N’s eyes widen in utter shock at the fluent Italian that easily slips from Harry’s ruby lips, watching as Vincenzo takes a step back from him with the same excitement as when he first turned the corner.

“Sto bene, grazie. È meraviglioso anche vederti.” I’m well, thank you.  It’s wonderful to see you, too.  Vincenzo’s attention lists over Harry’s shoulder to Y/N, who is still standing behind him with her mouth half open in bewilderment. 

“Grazie ancora per aver riorganizzato la prenotazione per noi.” Thank you again for rearranging the reservation for us.  Harry reaches back and intertwines his fingers with Y/N’s again as another Italian phrase slips off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ti devo un favore.” I owe you a favour.

“Te l'ho già detto, non mi devi niente. Gli amici aiutano gli amici.” I’ve already told you, you don’t owe me anything.  Friends help friends.  Vincenzo raises an eyebrow as he gestures to Y/N, who’s still a half step behind Harry as he carries out the conversation. “A proposito di ... chi è questo, Harry?” Speaking of… Who is this, Harry?

“Perdonami, sono stato scortese.” Forgive me, I’ve been rude.  Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Harry drifts his palm to the small of Y/N’s back, rubbing his thumb over the satin of her dress as he gently guides her forward for a proper introduction. “Vincenzo, sono Y/N, la mia ... amica.  Y/N, questo è Vincenzo, il titolare del ristorante.” Vincenzo, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my… friend.  Y/N, this is Vincenzo Genovesi, the owner of the restaurant.

Y/N’s ears prick up when she hears her name, and she smiles shyly in greeting at the older man. “Hi.” She wants to offer a more formal presentation, but is unsure if he speaks English or not, so she simply extends her hand to shake his. 

Vincenzo’s smile grows as he grasps her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and planting an innocent kiss to her skin before taking a polite step back. “È così bello conoscerti.  Sei così bello!”

With a gentle squeeze to her love handles, Harry lowers his mouth to Y/N’s ear, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin as he speaks. “He says it’s lovely to meet you, and that you’re very beautiful.” He translates, and Y/N can feel the way he’s smiling into her hair.

A shiver rolls down her spine as his cool breath meets her neck, but she manages to ignore the sensation, and instead sends a grateful smile in Vincenzo’s direction. “Oh… Thank you.  Grazie.” She tacks on, and although she tries her best to mimic Harry’s Italian accent, the way the immortal’s body tenses against her side as he represses a laugh tells her that she didn’t pass the test.

Vincenzo, however, waves off Harry’s amused expression, flipping his hand airily in his direction before taking Y/N’s again. She finds out that he indeed does speak English, and it comes out with a thick accent that holds so much genuine kindness, she immediately takes a strong liking to the aged gentleman. “Wipe that grin off your face, cretino, at least she’s trying!” He pats Y/N’s hand reassuringly, shaking his head with a disappointed scoff. “The last time he brought someone here, they spent the entire time doing a Godfather impression.  And it wasn’t even a good one!”

“How many times do I have to apologize for bringing Niall until you let me forget it?” Harry sighs in exasperation, his hand snaking around Y/N tighter than before. “I’ve already forbidden him from coming back.”

Shaking his head with a hearty laugh, Vincenzo pats Y/N’s hand once more before stepping back to the host stand and grabbing two leather-bound menus from the shelf. “I will never forget, Harry.  But don’t worry; I’ve still reserved your favourite table in the back of the restaurant.  Come, bella donna,” He tucks the menus underneath his arm as he gently loops Y/N’s arm through his own, tugging her from Harry’s grasp as he begins to lead her away from the entrance. “Let me escort you to the table, yes?”

Y/N allows Vincenzo to lead her, but glances over her shoulder to meet Harry’s amused gaze as he trails behind them, large hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyebrows poise teasingly.  The table in question, she discovers, is tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, framed by a plethora of flora and candles that reflect back on the stone walls.  

Although Vincenzo releases her arm to retract Y/N’s chair, Harry beats him to it, pulling the seat out smoothly and waiting until Y/N is seated comfortably to push the back of it in.  He brushes his cool hand over her shoulder, nudging a loose curl away from her bare neck while offering her a dimpled smile.

As Harry takes his own seat across from her, the older Italian man gives him a knowing look, his eyes glinting with mirth. “Solo un amica, eh?” Just a friend, eh?

The vampire half rolls his eyes, nodding his head slightly as he lays the cloth napkin over his thigh, voice stubbornly flat. “Sì. Solo un amica.” Yes.  Just a friend.

Vincenzo sets a menu down before each of them, clicking his tongue in unconvinced disbelief. “Non guardi un amica come l'hai appena guardata.” You don’t look at a friend the way you just looked at her.

Flipping his menu open with disinterest, Harry makes a bored sound in the back of his throat, waving off Vincenzo with a leisurely gesture. “Vorrei la carta dei vini, Vincenzo, non la tua opinione non richiesta.” I’d like the wine list, Vincenzo, not your unsolicited opinion.

A laugh echoes from the older man’s belly as he shakes his head in amusement, taking a step away from the table. “Certo, Signor Styles.  Lo farò portare subito dal cameriere.” Certainly, Mr. Styles.  I’ll have the waiter bring it right away.  

Turning his attention back to Y/N, Vincenzo takes her hand and kisses it once more. “Bella donna,” He begins, heaving a long sigh. “It was lovely to meet you.  And if this one ever gives you trouble,” he gestures to Harry with a nod, giving her a playfully wink,  “I have five grandsons that would die for the opportunity to dine with a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Harry’s face hardens at the comment, but Y/N laughs at the joke, squeezing Vincenzo’s hand before releasing it. “Thank you, Vincenzo.  It was so nice to meet you… Next time I come, you’ll have to teach me some Italian.” She adds, glancing at Harry as the curiosity of what they discussed before burns a hole in her belly.

The moment Vincenzo leaves the pair to their own devices, the mortal girl leans forward, the inquiry already falling off her lips. “Speaking of Italian…” She runs her finger around the stem of her empty wine glass, cocking her head to the side. “What were you and Vincenzo talking about?”

Harry waves off her question just as he did Vincenzo’s comments. “Nothing important.  Don’t worry,” a sly grin works its way onto his lips as he smoothly changes the subject, “he wasn’t offering to set me up with his granddaughters, if that’s what you were worried about.  It seems he only wants you in the family.”

“Who wouldn’t?  I’m a delight.” Y/N remarks, a wry smile raising the corners of her lips. “But seriously, Harry— where did you learn to speak fluent Italian?”

The answer rolls off his tongue as easily as the language did. “Italy.” He states simply, as if it should be obvious.

And it’s not a lie; he really did learn in Italy.  It just happened to be during the early 1900s, when he had been bouncing around between Florence, Venice, and Rome.  He’d liked Italy, actually, and would’ve stayed there longer, but then an Archduke was assassinated, and Harry had to return to Britain to fight in what was then called “the War To End All Wars.” Harry had figured that he might as well, given that he could shrug off bullet wounds as easily as a knick, and could use his blood to help heal other soldiers when travesties struck. The Italian, it turned out, had come in handy as he fought his way through Europe, but considering the bloody conditions under which he did so, Harry much prefers using it to woo a lovely girl in an expensive restaurant.

“Italy.” Y/N repeats the word in a deadpan voice, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back in her chair, kinking an eyebrow stubbornly. “When were you in Italy?”

Ah, Harry thinks, habitually rubbing his thumb over his ruby lips.  It seems a little white lie is necessary. “During uni.  I did a semester abroad.”

For a moment, he thinks that Y/N doesn’t buy the fib.  Her other eyebrow quirks upwards to meet its partner, but her gaze remains as suspicious as it has been since she first asked the question.  When she finally opens her mouth to speak, there’s a small, irrational part of Harry that thinks she might prod for more. 

“What do you mean, ‘a semester abroad’?” She questions, and Harry is about to over-explain when her posture suddenly relaxes, her arms returning to her sides as an easygoing laugh falls from her mouth, a seemingly entertaining realization dawning on her. “Wait, you grew up in England!  You already lived abroad!”

A breathless and relieved chuckle rolls out of Harry as his shoulders drop, the tension rolling out of him as he leans forward. “I suppose that’s true, hm?” He hums, reaching for Y/N’s warm hand and tugging it onto the table to intertwine her fingers with his own. “I really just went a few doors down the neighborhood, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Y/N sighs wistfully, drifting her thumb over the back of Harry’s knuckle without a second thought. “I’m jealous, though.  I wish I had gone away for school, even just to a different state.  I could’ve been living in Washington, or Oregon, or New York.  It would’ve been so nice.”

The corners of Harry’s lips weigh down into a frown as he considers the possibilities laced into the comment. “I suppose, but…” He casts his gaze towards their knitted hands.  Hers looks so much smaller wrapped inside his. “If you did, then you might not have moved to L.A.  And then we wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, Mr. Styles, Miss Y/L/N.” A waiter that Harry hasn’t met before appears beside the table with a wine menu clasped in one hand and a basket of bread in the other.  

The server is younger than others Harry has seen before, but Harry knows Vincenzo hires his staff carefully, and that he wouldn’t send anyone too inexperienced to take care of Harry.  From the sweat beading his brow, the vampire can tell that Vincenzo has given the waiter a speech about Harry’s status with the restaurant owner, and the thought brings a small spark of satisfaction to him.  However, that satisfaction disappears the moment he sees the waiter’s eyes linger on Y/N a moment longer than needed. He nods kindly to both of them, but the immortal can’t evade the small spark of irritation that zips down his spine at the employee’s subtle interest in his companion.  Shifting in his seat, Harry tightens his grasp on Y/N’s hand, but keeps his demeanor neutral and polite.  It’s not like he can blame the poor boy, really.  Not when Y/N’s silky lips are sheathed in such a breathtaking shade of red.

“My name is Luca, and I’ll be your server for tonight.” He shifts his attention back to Harry as he sets the bread basket on the table before extending the small leatherbound menu to him. “Here’s the wine list you asked for, Mr. Styles.  I’ll give you some time to look it over, and then I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

Although his right hand is closer to the server, Harry reaches for the menu with his left in order to maintain his grasp on Y/N’s. “Thank you, Luca.  I appreciate it.”

Luca nods once as he takes a step back from the table, clasping his hands behind his back. “Prego, signore.” You’re welcome, sir. 

Harry’s eyebrow jolts up in mild surprise. “Oh, parli italiano?” Oh, you speak Italian?  He asks, the flip in language gliding down his tongue without so much as a second thought. Harry hadn’t expected it, given that the young man’s natural accent is as American as can be. 

Pausing on the ball of his foot, Luca nods as colour begins to rise to his cheeks. “Sì, signore, la mia famiglia è italiana.  Mia nonna mi ha insegnato a parlarlo quando ero giovane.” Yes, sir, my family is Italian.  My grandmother taught me to speak it when I was very young.

“Tua nonna è una signora molto intelligente, allora.” Your grandmother is a very smart lady, then.  Harry’s mind drifts back to his own upbringing, when his mother would gather him and his sister around the table on Sunday nights, reading them Latin passages by candlelight.  The memory brings a sad smile to his face. “Grazie per il menu. Lo daremo un'occhiata.” Thank you for the menu.  We’ll take a look at it.

Luca nods again, but there’s hesitation in the motion as his eyes drift to Y/N once more, flickering from her own gaze back down to her crimson lips. “Is there anything I can get you before I go, miss?  Some water, perhaps?”

Y/N sends a bright smile to the young man, nodding her head as a strand of her curled hair loosens from its pin. “Yes, please.  And thank you.”

“Due acque, Luca.” Two waters, Luca.  Harry interjects, clearing his throat quietly as he catches the human boy’s eye, giving a curt jut of his chin that signals he’s done ordering for the time being. “Grazie.”

Y/N reaches for the basket of bread the moment Luca has scurried away, her eyes lighting up as she hears the first slice crackle open. “Ooh, garlic bread.” She thrums happily as she takes a small bite while being mindful of her red lipstick, setting the rest of the bread on her side plate as she chews slowly and indulges the flurry of delicious flavors. She talks lightly over a semi-full mouth, careful as to not give Harry an unpleasant eyeful. “So what’s on the menu for drinks?  I’m assuming you’re, like, an expert on wine, right?”

Harry’s lips twitch as he bites back a laugh at the hint of annoyance in her voice. “What makes you say that?”

“You shop Gucci like it’s Target, you speak Italian, you’re a regular at this place…” Y/N’s eyes sweep over their private corner of the restaurant before sending a teasing glance to Harry. “Being a sommelier on the side just seems like something to add to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at.”

Despite the small jab, a satisfied smile settles on Harry’s lips as he squeezes Y/N’s hand. “You really are good at stroking my ego, aren’t you, dove?  I suppose we can add that to the list of things you’re infuriatingly good at?”

The familiar comment brings Y/N back to the night the two of them met, in a dark and deafening club that’s the complete opposite of their current location.  She twists her fingers within Harry’s, flipping their hands to examine his palm as memories float through her mind like movie scenes.  How Harry had looked when he first walked over, the soothing and seductive tone of his voice, how she’d done her best to match his flirtatious compliments… how he’d kissed her in his car before taking her back to her apartment.  She should’ve known then, Y/N thinks, that she wouldn’t have been able to let someone like Harry be just a one night stand. 

“I guess I’ll allow you to add it.” Y/N murmurs teasingly as she clasps their hands together once more. “But, unfortunately for me, wine knowledge is not on that list, so… you pick something.  I trust your taste.”

“Alright, then.  No pressure for me.” Harry jokes, snapping his gaze from her hypnotizing irises to peruse the menu once more. “Would you like red, white, or rosé?”

The human hums as she considers the question, pursing her lips in thought, as if the answer she gives is life or death. “Red, I think.” She replies, watching as Harry’s brow furrows in thought while shifting his eyes to the red wine list. 

A moment later, Luca appears again with two glasses of ice water balanced on a tray, which he sets down on the table before each of them.  While both of them offer a murmur of thanks, it’s only Y/N’s show of gratitude that incites a darkening of his cheeks.

Another thread of irritation flares down Harry’s spine, but he forces himself to dampen it down with a reminder that if he were the one waiting on Y/N— rather than being the one sitting across from her— he’d probably be doing the exact same thing. “Penso che abbiamo preso una decisione, Luca.” I think we’ve made a decision, Luca.  He says with a tight smile, snapping the wine menu shut and handing it back to the young man. “Prendiamo due bicchieri del tuo cabernet sauvignon, per favore.” We’ll have two glasses of your cabernet sauvignon, please.

Luca nods as he accepts the menu, his eyes flickering to Y/N’s ruby lips yet again. That’s three times in the last ten minutes...not that the vampire’s counting or anything. 

“Ovviamente. Li prendo per te che scrivi.” Of course.  I’ll get those for you right away. The server answers politely before tucking the menu under his arm and hurrying off.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Y/N says the moment the waiter is gone, her eyes alight with amusement as she pulls her hand from Harry’s to take a sip of her ice water. “But I can’t ignore it.”

Clearing his throat as he reaches for a slice of garlic bread, Harry slinks his head to the side before answering. “Ignore what?” He asks offhandedly, taking a bite of his bread and chewing it slowly.  Had Luca’s fascination with her crimson smile not gone unnoticed?  Or had Harry’s aggravation begun to show on his face?

“The Italian.” Y/N admits, setting her glass down and sitting forward as she rests her bent elbows on the table, propping her head upon her interlocked fingers. “I feel a bit left out, and, truthfully, a little jealous.  I want to learn.”

A playful laugh echoes from Harry’s throat as he taps a ringed finger against the table. “I can’t exactly teach you an entire language over one dinner, sweetheart.  I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Hm.  I know.  It’s tragic.” Y/N sighs, giggling quietly at the way Harry’s laughter cuts off completely and is replaced with a wounded sound of protest. “But what about some important phrases?  Just so I’m not in the dark all evening while you play Roman Holiday?”

Harry prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright.  Why don’t we start with Mi dispiace?”

“Mi dispiace.” Y/N repeats slowly, trying her best to wrap her red lips around the Italian diction. “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘I’m sorry’, which one could say in reference to, oh, I don’t know…” Harry shrugs lightly, matching the motion with a theatrical dejected sigh. “Insinuating that your date is without certain… talents?”

Although Y/N laughs again, she reaches across the table and wraps her hand around Harry’s, trying to tamp down the mirth in her voice when she replies. “Mi dispiace.” She repeats again, giving Harry her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s passable, I suppose.” Harry props his chin up in his palm, rubbing his thumb over his pillowy lips in thought. “And then we have ti perdono— I forgive you.”

“How kind of you, Mr. Styles.” Y/N simpers, biting her tongue between her teeth to hold back more sounds of glee. “Give me another one.”

Harry regards her with a thoughtful air, his hand sliding from his mouth to his hair to tug on his styled curls before traveling back down to rest on the table. His voice comes out a tad deeper, a vein of sultriness running beneath it that she just barely detects. “Sei molto bella con quel vestito.”

One of the words tweaks Y/N’s memory from earlier, but she still traces a finger over Harry’s initial rings as she locks eyes with him expectantly. “What does that mean?”

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Harry peers at her through his thick lashes as he encircles his free hand around the stem of his water glass. “You look very beautiful in that dress.”

A pleasurable flush rolls through Y/N’s belly at the compliment.  No matter how many times Harry pays her a positive comment, she somehow always still feels a rush with each word that falls from his soft lips. “Thank you.” She mumbles shyly, tucking her thumb between Harry’s ring and pinkie finger. “I mean— grazie.” 

“Try saying it back to me.” Despite the encouraging words that are said under the guise of teaching, there’s an undercurrent of command that turns the satisfaction in Y/N’s tummy to anticipation. “Molto bella.”

The mortal’s eyes flicker between Harry’s own emerald irises and his mouth as he curls a ringed finger over her hand, stroking the icy digit over her heated skin. “Molto bella.” She repeats, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Fantastico, tesoro.” The praise slips easily from his lips as he lets himself bask in the warmth her flesh brings to his. 

“‘Tesoro’,” Y/N repeats, a tinge of confusion settling onto her face. “What does that mean?”

“It’s, uh,” Harry scoffs to himself in realization, unaware he had even let the term fall from his mouth. “It— well, it means ‘treasure,’ but it’s kind of the Italian equivalent of ‘darling’.”

The vampire can hear the way Y/N’s heartbeat spikes, sending a new wave of blood to warm her cheeks. “That—” The human girl mimics the way he’d cleared his earlier as she reaches for her water glass. “That’s pretty.”

“It is, yeah.  You’ll probably be hearing it often.” Harry continues to drag the pad of his finger down the ridges of his lover’s knuckles as a fond smile crescents his Cupid’s bow. “And here’s another one you’ll be hearing often— piegarsi.”

Y/N pauses with her water raised halfway to her lips. “And what does that one mean?”

Harry waits until her mouth has reached the rim of the glass and she’s taken a sip of ice water. “Bend over.” 

The response is instantaneous, just as he’d imagined. The mortal chokes on her water, coughing up a storm as she quickly lowers the drink from her mouth, half bending over the table and yanking her hand from his as her cheeks light with fire. “Harry!” She gasps once she regains her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone else at the restaurant overheard his lewd statement. 

“What?” He asks innocently, but quickly gives into snickering, his body curling over the table as he cackles. “I’m not wrong!  You really will be hearing it often, so you should know what it means!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it in public!” Y/N exclaims hotly, shooting him a look of irritated disbelief that’s exaggerated to hide the boiling that’s working its way into her stomach.

Still chuckling every few moments, Harry reaches for her hand once again, interlocking their fingers and bringing her palm to his mouth. “Alright,” He kisses her heated palm while gazing at her through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry.  Mi dispiace, tesoro.”

Y/N purses her painted lips, but sighs in defeat after a few moments of Harry’s moony eyes boring into her own. “Fine.  I forgive you.  Ti perdono.”

Although the annoyance has faded from Y/N’s complexion, Harry still keeps her hand flushed to his lips, stamping kisses to a new area of skin with unpatterned frequency.  He’s not certain if her warmth is just her or the residual embarrassment, but he doesn’t care.  It’s just nice, he thinks, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at Y/N from across the table.  It’s comfortable.

“I have your glasses of cabernet sauvignon, Mr. Styles.” Luca interrupts from beside Harry, who had been so focused on the feeling of Y/N skin against his that he hadn’t noticed the waiter’s return. 

Harry gently lowers Y/N’s hand from his mouth, setting her palm down on the table with care. “Grazie.” Harry says casually, straightening his posture to allow Luca to set the glasses down. 

Y/N does the same, offering the young server a thankful smile once again. “Grazie.” Her voice rings sweetly from behind her lips, her confidence more stable thanks to Harry’s miniature Rosetta Stone lecture. 

“Prego, signorina.” Luca matches the Italian easily, his eyebrows raising in hopeful shock. “Parli anche italiano?” Do you speak Italian, too?

The human girl’s eyes flick to Harry as her mouth falls open without sound, and the immortal reads the distress signal easily. 

“No, lei non—” He cuts himself off in the middle of the address to Luca when he remembers that Y/N doesn’t like being spoken for.  Harry redirects his attention back to her questioning eyes. “I mean— he asked if you speak Italian.”

Y/N gives Harry an appreciative smile before turning back to Luca, the expression turning apologetic. “No, I don’t.  I wish I did, though.”

“It’s a fairly easy language to learn.” Luca tucks his tray underneath his arm as he regards the girl timidly. “And your accent is wonderful already.”

Harry hides his smirk behind his wine glass, stifling the laugh that’s threatening to sound.  The server must be entranced by her beauty, he thinks, because that’s the most blatant lie Harry has heard in a long time.

Y/N, however, accepts the compliment with ease. “Thank you.  It’s not true, but I appreciate the effort to be kind.”

The tips of Luca’s ears redden as he laughs breathlessly. “Are you, um, ready to order?”

“Oh, uh—” Y/N drops her gaze to the unopened menu in front of her before offering an rueful glance at the waiter. “I still need a few minutes, I think.”

“That’s alright, take your time.  I’ll be back shortly.” Luca assures her, turning to Harry and giving one last nod of acknowledgement before leaving them again.

Despite already having the menu of the restaurant memorized, Harry slides the leatherbound cover open, dragging a ringed finger down the smooth pages as he feigns searching for a dish. “You know…” He flits his gaze to Y/N’s face as an amused grin begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That’s really not fair of you.”

Y/N looks up from her own opened menu the moment Harry speaks, a bemused shadow falling over her face. “What’s not fair of me?”

Harry reaches for his wine glass as he laughs gently, shaking his head before taking a small sip of the smooth cabernet. “Being so charming to Luca.  The poor boy looks like he’s going to pass out each time you speak to him.”

Her cherry lips curve into an exasperated smile as she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you mean.” She states, turning her attention back down to the cursive menu. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Harry replies dryly, quirking an eyebrow as he sets his beverage back down on the table. “So you’re not noticing how his eyes are glued to your mouth every time you say something?”

“Nope,” Y/N pops her lips on the last consonant sound of the word as she reaches for her own wine glass. “Because it’s not happening.  We’re just talking, H.  He’s the waiter; he has to look at me.”

“Right.” Harry drags the word out, completely unconvinced. His own eyes glue to Y/N’s lips as they wrap around the edge of her glass, his throat growing slightly parched as he studies the way they curve in a manner that he deems practically flawless. “So do you think the way he’s staring at your tits is also in his job description, then?”

Y/N snorts at the snarky remark, lowering her glass to rest just in front of her chest. “You’re the one who picked out a dress with such a low neckline.” She unwraps her index finger from the wine glass to point it at him in an accusatory manner. “Why did you get it, then, if you didn’t want my tits out on display?”

Harry takes a swig of his own wine as he fights back a laugh at her bold statement. “Let me fill you in on a little secret, mi amore.” He says, lowering his voice and setting down his delicate glass with a muted thud. “The main reason I got it…” The vampire watches the way Y/N’s breathing hitches when she feels the snakeskin tip of his boot brush against the back of her bare calf beneath the table. “Is because I’m curious to see what it would look like as a crumpled heap at the bottom of my staircase.”

The toe of his boot travels higher up her leg, circling around the bend of her knee before just barely grazing the soft flesh of her lower outer thigh.  Y/N does her best to control her breathing, but the effort is in vain when the cold metal zipper presses against her dimpled skin. 

“Harry…” His name leaves her crimson lips in a warning tone as she glances around the restaurant, eyeing the closest couple five tables away. 

“‘M excited to see it later, y’know? Been thinking about ripping it off ever since I zipped you into it.” Harry drags the toe of his boot back down her leg, coasting it lightly against her ribbon-wrapped ankle in small and concise motions. “But I suppose I’ll just have to be a bit more patient.  At least I’ll be seeing you like that; poor Luca could only dream of it.”

The human girl clears her throat quietly, taking another measured sip of her wine as she wills herself to steady. “The only thing poor about Luca is that he’s going to come back to the table and I still won’t know what I want.” She shifts her attention back to the open menu, ignoring the eye roll she receives from her lover across the table as she looks over the Italian in front of her. “I don’t know what any of this is.”

“Let me help, cara— which means, ‘dear,’ by the way.” Harry says in an amused voice, dropping his gaze to the cursive menu. “Do you want fish?  Pasta?  Red meat?  Chicken?”

“Maybe pasta.” Y/N murmurs in reply, running a finger down the booklet page as she reads over the Italian descriptions.  Her eyes catch the prices next to dishes, and she nearly gasps, but bites back the sound of surprise at the last moment.

“Alright…” Scanning down the pasta list, Harry bookmarks a few dishes he thinks Y/N may like. “You’d enjoy the ‘Spaghetti Cacio e Pepe’, I think.” He muses, rubbing a finger over his chin in thought. “Or the ‘Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto’.  That’s kind of like pasta— it’s a potato dumpling, and you can choose if you want a meat or gorgonzola sauce.”

“That sounds good.” Y/N finds the mentioned items on the menu, her eyes sweeping over the Italian descriptions to try and pick out the words Harry mentioned. “I think I’ll go with the last one, with the gorgonzola sauce.” Taking a sip of her wine to seal her decision, Y/N poses a question to Harry. “What are you thinking of having?”

“I’m not sure…” Harry lifts his shoulder in a careless shrug as he continues to scan the menu. “I have a few favourites, and those are always solid choices.  The lamb is quite good here; I haven’t had that in a while.”

As Harry peruses his decisions, Y/N begins to chew on the inside of her cheek, narrowly avoiding her habit of biting her lips and ruining the raspberry lacquer she’d painted on earlier as an idea forms in her head. 

“Harry,” She begins, waiting until he raises his jade eyes to meet hers before continuing. “When Luca comes back over…” The girl chooses her words carefully, doing her best to voice her question in the most understandable way. “Could you order for me?”

Just as she suspected he might, Harry rests his menu back down against the table, giving his whole attention to Y/N as his brows furrow. “You want me to order for you?” He asks, confusion threaded through his accent as his mind flips back to their first date, when Y/N had nearly skinned him alive for attempting to do just that. “Why?”

She shifts in her seat under his hot gaze, her own eyes dropping to her lap as her cheeks sear. “It’s— It’s in Italian, so it’ll probably be easier if you say it.”

Harry shakes his head in disagreement as he tries to reassure his date. “No, doll, it’s alright if you say it in English.  Luca will get it.  And if worse comes to worse—” He cracks a smile, tapping a bejeweled finger against the booklet. “Y’can just point.  He’ll get the gist.”

Despite the solutions offered, Y/N continues to shift around, her foot bumping against Harry’s boot as a soft sigh falls from her lips.  She’d hoped Harry would’ve just accepted the request on her first try, but he seems determined not to repeat his mistake from their first date, which means Y/N has to get a lot more honest.

“No, H, I want…” She purses her lips as she twists her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, gently swirling the dark liquid inside. “I want you to order for me.”

The smile on his face darkens into a befuddled expression. “I mean, I can,” Harry says slowly, closing the menu and sliding it onto the table as he appraises the girl across from him. “But I’m a little confused on your reasoning.  Last time I tried to order for you, you said I was trying to make decisions for you—”

“And you were,” Y/N can’t help but to defend herself, flashing a stormy look at Harry from beneath her lashes. “That’s why I’m telling you what I’d like now.”

Harry’s mouth gapes open as he stares at Y/N with a blank expression.  A scoffing laugh finally falls from his lips as he shakes his head again, reaching for his wine and bringing the glass to his lips. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, d’you know that?”

Y/N lets a beat of silence fall between them as she rethinks her question and how best to phrase it in a way that still lets her feel like she’s living in the twenty-first century. “I mean I— you said that it was polite, right?  At that brunch.  Your mom taught you it was a sign of respect.” Her eyes fall to the opal ring sitting on his pinky, sparkling in the candlelight like it always does.

Harry lowers his glass, watching Y/N with a guarded gaze. “Yeah.” He murmurs, licking his lips once as he places his cup back on the table. “She did, yeah.”

“And you’ve gone to a lot of trouble tonight— the dress, the reservation, everything— and I just— I wanted to—” The more Y/N tries to articulate her thoughts, the more tangled her thoughts become, and she sucks in a harsh breath of frustration. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Although Harry has a suspicion about her meaning, he doesn’t try to finish her sentence.  The last thing he wants to do is make Y/N feel like he’s trying to speak over her. “It’s alright.” He says instead, snaking his hand across the table to weave her fingers through his. “Take your time, tesoro.”

Heeding his advice, Y/N takes a moment to just focus on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers wrapped around hers, and allows her thoughts to gather themselves together on their own.  When she tries again, her speech is hesitant, but less frustrated than before.

“I think I… understand you more now.” She mumbles the words, keeping her eyes glued to the shining stones that adorn Harry’s rings. “When you do things that I’m not used to… I know you’re doing them out of kindness, and not because you think I’m incapable.” Raising her stare to meet Harry’s entrancing emerald eyes, Y/N takes a deep breath before continuing. “You’ve done a lot to make me comfortable, and I appreciate it, so… I want to do something for you.  It’s no Gucci dress—” Y/N laughs breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again as her intent flickers away from Harry’s own for just a moment before— to his relief— returning. “— but you were taught it was a sign of respect, like opening a door, or pulling out a chair.  So if you want to order for me… you can.” She finishes in a quiet voice. “If you’d like to.”

A slow smile spreads over Harry’s strawberry lips as Y/N wraps up her speech. “Really?” He asks, his voice hushed with delight. “And you won’t accuse me of treating you like you’re incapable?”

Y/N’s eyes flash to him in a darkened glare, but her tone holds a jesting bite. “Not unless you piss me off.”

A soft exhale of air leaves Harry’s nostrils, the beginnings of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He quips in return, catching Luca’s eye over Y/N’s shoulder as the waiter approaches the table again.

Although his body is turned towards Harry, Luca’s eyes canvas Y/N once more, the action bolder this time as his irises spend longer resting on her cleavage after observing her tinted pout.  The lengthened look grates against Harry’s nerves, and he clears his throat in a slightly irritated manner to call the young man’s attention back his way.

“Oh, uhm—” Luca’s ears redden as he turns back to Harry, clearing his throat as he steadies himself. “Sei pronto per ordinare, signor Styles?” Are you ready to order, Mr. Styles?

“Sì,” Harry replies curtly, tapping his thumb against Y/N’s soft hand. “Y/N vorrebbe gli Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto con la salsa al gorgonzola, e io prendo il filet mignon, cotto raro, per favore.” Y/N will have the Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto with the gorgonzola sauce, and I’ll have the filet mignon, cooked rare, please. He says smoothly, and he can’t deny the satisfied pleasure that curls inside his belly when he sees the gentle eyes Y/N gives him across the table.

Luca nods once as he takes the menus from the two of them, careful to keep his eyes away from Y/N’s mouth as he gathers her leatherbound copy and scuttles off to submit their orders to the kitchen.

“Okay.” Y/N says reluctantly, squeezing Harry’s hand within her own with a sigh as she watches the waiter disappear. “I will admit, I did notice his eyes drifting a little low there.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Harry asks, eyes widening in dramatized disbelief.  He wills himself to keep a triumphant grin off his face, but knows he doesn’t quite succeed. “Did you just admit I was right?  Did that just happen?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rolling her eyes, Y/N shakes her head as she takes another bite of garlic bread, her tongue poking from her mouth to catch a crumb at the corner of her lip. “If you’re going to act like such a child, I’ll take it back.”

Harry brings her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them against his lips in a tender motion. “I’m just trying to savour the moment, angel.” His cool breath crawls over her skin, eliciting a shiver from the human girl that he adores. “Who knows when I’ll get to experience it again.”

“Never, if I have any say in it.”

“Should we ask Luca to weigh in on this little debate, too? You know, since he’s practically as acquainted with you as I am.” 

“Bite me.”

The monster’s dimples wink at the irony of her insult, and his voice carries a knowing edge that only he can decipher. “Don’t I always?”

They fall into their usual rhythm after that, easily discussing what each of them had been up to throughout the week during their gaps away from the other.  Those gaps, Harry realizes as he listens to a work story from Y/N, are becoming shorter and shorter. He’d swung by Y/N’s cafe for lunch on Thursday to order a mediocre at best sandwich, and indulge in a far from mediocre makeout session in the back of his car.  And watching Y/N hurriedly tighten her ponytail while she stumbled away from his Cadillac, cheeks flaming as she nearly ran to the employee entrance around the back of the building before her break ended, had prompted Harry to call her that night for a long overdue phone sex session.  

Even after they had both helped the other reach climax, and post-orgasm photos had been sent (Harry had received a picture of Y/N stretched out on her bed, her face visibly heated and chest sweaty as she wore nothing but his “enjoy health” t-shirt, and in return, he’d sent a snapshot of his cum-covered abdomen, fingers resting delicately at the edge of his butterfly tattoo), the vampire and human had stayed on the line as they both caught their breath.  Harry had followed the nude photo with a picture of him posing with a glass of water and a thumbs up, smiling grandly amidst his colored cheeks and sweaty curls, captioning it “Make sure to hydrate after a workout!��� The energy it took to take the self-timed photo was worth it when he’d heard Y/N’s laugh tumble out from the opposite end of the line. 

It’s the same carefree laugh that she’s trying to stifle now, her hand pressed over her mouth and nose as her eyes send an apologetic glance at Luca setting her plate of gnocchi down in front of her.

“Thank you, Luca,” She manages to choke out, wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb to stop the saltwater threatening to rush down her heated cheeks. “It looks delicious.”

Harry nods in agreement as the waiter sets his own dish in front of him, his mischievous smirk still shining at Y/N from across the table. “Grazie.” He says as he curls his lips around his newly topped off wine glass.

Y/N bites her tongue to hold back the continuous laughter that’s on the verge of bursting from her chest like a dam.  With every moment Harry keeps his eyes locked on hers, the human girl has to press her lips harder and harder together, and barely manages to wait until Luca has left them again to release the wave of giggles that crest out of her chest.

“Something amusing?” Harry raises an eyebrow as he sets his glass down, hardly able to hold back his own laughter as couples seated away from them begin to take notice of the boisterous sounds.

“You—” Y/N sucks in a ragged breath, half snorting once more as she manages to calm herself enough to take a small sip of wine.  The liquid soothes the raw ache in her throat that is practically raw from the convulsed snickers. “You did not say that to him!”

“I did.” Harry answers smugly, adjusting the napkin covering the light grey fabric stretched over his lap before picking up his knife and fork. “He was too certain that no girl had ever faked it with him just because of a leg shake.  I couldn’t let him live in that delusion; it’d be a crime, really.  Just plain cruel.”

“Oh, right, like telling your friend that all the girls he’s been with have been faking it isn’t cruel?” She gently sets down her wine glass at the edge of her plate as she voices the retort, shaking her head in disbelief. “Poor Niall.”

“Not Poor Niall!  I was trying to help him!” Despite the claim, Harry can’t stop himself from chuckling out the words. “How’s he going to fix his ways if he doesn’t know anything is wrong?”

“Alright, so riddle me this, then, Dr. Phil.” Y/N picks up her fork, spearing a piece of gnocchi and holding the chunk above her plate as she issues her challenge to Harry. “How did you become the expert in whether or not a girl is faking it?  Do you have a lot of experience with that?”

“Not in the slightest.  I think you know that much.” Just as he did before, Harry begins to slide the tip of his boot up Y/N’s calf, relishing in the slight hitch in her breath and stutter of her heart. “If I’m an expert in anything, it’s how to make someone cum until their legs actually shake.  That’s why I can tell the fake from the real.”

Y/N takes a deep breath through her mouth, closing her eyes for a moment as she forms a coherent reply. “I guess I do know that.” She relents, opening her eyes just in time to see the simper that’s growing again across Harry’s face as he continues to rub up and down her leg with his shoe.  Y/N lifts her fork, carefully slipping the sauce-covered gnocchi into her mouth. “But Niall doesn’t— holy shit.” The mortal gasps as the flavours burst across her tongue, the perfect mix of savoury and salty and drenched in decadence.

“It’s good, innit?” Harry pokes his cheek with his tongue as he slices off a corner of his steak, checking the rarity of the meat before bringing it to his mouth. “There’s a reason this is my favourite restaurant, and it’s not just Vincenzo.”

“It’s fucking delicious.” Y/N can’t think to censor herself as she meticulously chews and swallows the bite, savouring every second before poking another gnocchi onto her fork. “I understand the price now.  It’s still outrageous, but I get it.”

Harry watches the way Y/N’s lashes flutter as she chews her bites, and the satisfaction growing in his belly increases. “High quality is worth paying for.” He states, slicing off another portion of steak. 

Y/N nods slowly, swallowing the food before pointing the prongs of her fork at Harry’s plate. “How’s your filet mignon?” She asks, spearing another bite of gnocchi onto the utensil. “Worth the price point?”

Dragging the bite on his fork through the sauce that’s pooled on his plate, Harry beckons her forward as he extends the piece towards her. “Open your mouth and find out.”

There’s something about the way that Y/N immediately obeys the command— setting down her own fork and leaning across the table to wrap her lips around Harry’s— that sends a shiver down his spine.  With her mouth closed, she slides the cut of beef off the silverware and leans back in her seat, chewing thoughtfully with a contemplative look on her face. 

A drop of sauce is smeared from the bite, dripping from the edge of her mouth, and although it goes unnoticed by Y/N, it’s all Harry can see as he watches her savor the bite of food.  He leans forward more, collecting the droplet on the pad of his thumb, which he brings to his mouth and licks off casually before settling back in his chair.

“Like it, tesoro?” He asks, an expectant look glinting in his eye as he slices off another bite for himself. 

Y/N cocks her head to the side as she swallows, trying her best to focus on the flavour and not the way Harry had been so careful not to smear her lipstick as he touched her. “I like the sauce.  It’s sweet, but has a bit of a kick to it.  The steak, however…” She wrinkles her nose the slightest bit. “It’s a little too rare for my taste, I think.  I’m not really a fan of anything bloody.”

Harry curls his tongue inside his mouth as he allows himself a single laugh. “No?” He questions, spearing a piece of meat and sliding it past his lips. “I can’t say the same.  I like my steaks cooked rare.  The bloodier, the better.” 

“I bet you’re one of those weirdos who orders blue steak, huh?” Y/N asks, taking a gulp of her wine to wash out the taste of the meat. “Like, still cold in the middle, and looking practically raw…”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.” Harry’s chuckles increase, and he has to hide them behind a false cough to stop himself from drawing more attention. “It tastes much better if the meal is warm.”

Although Y/N doesn’t grasp the full meaning behind his words— and thank God she doesn’t, Harry thinks, because she’d probably run screaming from the restaurant— she hums in acknowledgement as she swirls the wine around her glass.

“But you’re enjoying your meal, right?” Harry changes the subject swiftly, deciding he’s indulged his one-sided humour long enough. “I have no problem sending it back if it’s not to your liking.”

The human’s eyes widen as she swiftly sets down her glass, shaking her head at the question. “No, no, it’s delicious!  Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.” She collects another bit on her fork, twirling the potato dumpling through the gorgonzola sauce before motioning to Harry. “Wanna try?”

When Harry nods in response, they slip back into their former position, both of them leaning forward in their seats to meet in the middle of the table.  Y/N slips the fork into his mouth, feeling the resistance as Harry’s white teeth meet the strong metal of the cutlery. 

Just as had happened to her a few moments prior, a small droplet of sauce gathers at the corner of Harry’s mouth as she pulls her fork away.  Y/N collects the sauce with her thumb as Harry had as well, but before she can sit herself back in her chair, Harry captures her wrist within his cool hand. 

Keeping his canopy green eyes locked with hers, the creature slips her thumb into his mouth, licking the remnants of the bite off the digit with his slick tongue.  His boot continues its climb up her leg, just barely reaching her thigh again before traveling back down to plant itself firmly onto the floor of the restaurant.

A quiet gasp leaves Y/N’s mouth as Harry lulls his tongue around her thumb one last time, and the barely audible sound raises his strawberry lips into a hint of a grin as he extracts the finger from his mouth.  With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, Harry brings her open palm forward and plants a delicate kiss to the center of her hand.

“That’s quite good.” Harry finally says nonchalantly, attentively setting Y/N’s hand back down on the table and releasing her wrist from his grasp. “I’ll have to try it the next time we come.”

Y/N struggles to regulate her breathing as she retracts her hand from the table, setting it down in her lap as her fingers involuntarily clench into her heated thigh. “Um, yeah.” She wisps, clearing her throat once as she reaches for a slice of garlic bread. “Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really good.  The sauce is— it has a nice balance to it, I think, with the thyme…”

“I agree.” Harry wipes his wet finger off on the napkin laying over his thigh. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you, pet?”

“You would know.” Y/N huffs snidely, cheeks blazing as she reaches for her wine again to extract a heavy gulp of the liquor.  

In the moments of silence that fall between them, Y/N allows herself to canvas the restaurant, observing the interactions of those around her.  True to Vincenzo’s promise of a private spot, the couples nearest to them are all at least five tables away, and partially hidden from view because of the positioning of their corner booth.  However, Y/N’s sharp eyes don’t miss how every formally-dressed staff member, from servers to busboys and hosts, cast their eyes in Harry’s direction each time they pass by.  Some even whisper to their coworkers as they turn the corner, their gazes always lingering on Harry with a mix of awe and wonder.

“Have you noticed how all the staff here watch you?” Y/N asks as she catches the eye of a passing waitress, who offers her a tense smile before sliding her stare towards Harry. 

“Do they?” Harry replies curiously, raising his wine glass to his lips as he lightly shrugs. “I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“I think Vincenzo’s given them all the update on the prestigious British bachelor, Harry Styles.” Y/N pokes fun, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully as she contemplates Harry with an observant eye. “Or maybe they’ve all just noticed the ridiculous amount of designer labels you insist on wearing.” She teases him with a playful grin, tapping a finger against the Gucci cufflinks on his sleeves. “I feel a bit like a celebrity.”

A modest laugh breaks past Harry’s lips as he lowers the glass, keeping his ringed fingers twisted around the stem. “In my experience, I’ve found you’re treated best when you treat the staff best.  I tip well, so I receive better service.  When I receive better service, I tip more.  It’s a bit of a cycle, isn’t it?” He asks rhetorically, the tip of his boot once again exploring the soft skin of Y/N’s bare leg. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.  I thought I’d test the waters tonight and see how well you like the high life before I arrange anything more… extravagant.”

“More extravagant?” Y/N laughs at the idea, propping her elbow on the table and plopping her chin in her hand as her eyebrows raise. “What could possibly be more extravagant than a Gucci cocktail dress, Loubotin heels, and a fifty dollar pasta dish?”

The answer rolls off Harry’s tongue immediately, slathered in a jesting, matter-of-fact tone. “A trip to the Bahamas, obviously.”

Although Y/N’s eyes widen slightly at the comment, it’s not long before she giggles softly, the wine beginning to twist its way through her system.  Harry can smell the way her lavender and honey scent is intertwined with the dark, fruity notes of the liquor, but even if he couldn’t, it would be obvious in the way she draws towards him with a tender smile on her face.  Despite the dewy appearance of her skin amidst the lulled candlelight, it’s the genuine warmth behind Y/N’s eyes that makes Harry feel like her gaze could thaw the ice from his long-frozen limbs.

It’s that warmth that brings Harry to reach over the table after Luca has cleared their bare plates and refilled their glasses, dragging his hands across the linen tablecloth with his palms turned upwards.  He just can’t ever seem to stifle the need to touch her.

The motion is a quiet question in itself, and Y/N gives the desired answer when she fills his empty grasp with her own palms, automatically tangling her bare fingers with Harry’s jeweled digits. For a moment, Harry just sits there, thumbing over her fragile knuckles in the way he’s grown so accustomed to doing, basking in the heat that congregates in his chest and gives him the feeling that he’s glowing.  He almost hates to break the perfect silence between them, which is so understanding, but he’s been thinking about his words too carefully to swallow them back.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me take you out.” He says, his voice gentle and low, a far cry from his usual cocky drawl. “It’s…It’s been a really long time since I’ve done something like this with anyone, let alone had this much fun doing it.” He takes a quiet breath through barely parted lips. “It’s nice.”

His ears prick with the sound of Y/N’s hummingbird heartbeat thrumming in her chest, the pattern bringing an ache to his tummy in an entirely new way, but the ache is quickly soothed by the soft smile that adorns her crimson lips.

“It’s…It’s been a while for me, as well.  Which you know.” She laughs airily, but is too entranced by the vivid color of Harry’s eyes to tear her gaze away. “I’m having fun, too.  I’m glad— I mean—”

Harry continues to rub over her knuckles patiently, keeping his touch as gentle as she is, making sure to gift her an instance to collect her thoughts.

“I’ll admit, I was… worried at first.  When we started to go on actual dates.” The mortal takes a deep breath through her nose, but it hardly calms her down as she inhales the vanilla and tobacco scent of Harry’s cologne. “We were doing so well with just sex, y’know?  And I was worried that adding more would… ruin it.”

The faint grin playing on the edge of Harry’s mouth disappears, and a chill runs through his bones at the possibility of what they have dismantling at the seams. “But it hasn’t… Has it?”

The seconds Harry spends waiting for an answer is agony, but the relief is instantaneous when Y/N replies in a bashful voice. “No.” She whispers, her gaze faltering down to her lap before raising back to him. “It hasn’t.”

“I feel like…” Harry worries his bottom lip between his teeth, nearly forgetting to be mindful of his strength so as to not break his skin. “I feel like it’s made things better, even.  Like… like we work better together, yeah?” He clears his throat gingerly as nerves begin to dip into his dormant veins.  He knows he’s treading on dangerously thin ice, and he’s never been more at risk of plunging into the freezing depths below, but he can’t make himself return to shore.  Not now. “Not that we weren’t working well before, because we were.  We were working really well— incredibly well.  But I just feel like tacking on this little bit of extra stuff makes everything more fulfilling.”

A wry smile breaks across Y/N’s face. “Right, because who doesn’t love getting wined and dined before getting their back done in?” She jokes easily, and Harry snorts in spite of himself, grateful for how she always manages to save him from making an ass of himself.

“I just really like spending time with you, I guess.” He squeezes her hands within his own before the sincere moment disappears. “It feels natural.  Really natural.”

“It does.  And while we’re confessing our innermost confessions over garlic bread…” The mortal purses her lips as a sparkle appears in her eyes, glinting at Harry like the North Star. “I want you to know how grateful I am for what we have.  I was feeling really lonely and out of place when we met, and running into you…” Y/N hesitates for a fraction of a instant, just long enough for Harry’s own breathing to catch. “It really helped me get back on my feet.  It’s just nice to have someone who I mesh with so well, especially after such a big move and everything, so…” A new wave of heat works its way over the apples of her cheeks. “I suppose this is a bit of a ‘thank you’.  Thanks for coming up to me that night at the club.”

Harry’s lips quirk at the corners as the tender confession settles into his chest. “Thank you for letting me chat you up.  It was a two way street, love.  Although—” His signature smirk begins to make a reappearance. “It’s not like I had to try very hard— you practically drooled the second you laid your eyes on me.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open indignantly as she yanks her hands back from his, rolling her eyes heavily while smoothing the hem of her dress. “Alright, that’s enough.  Moment over, dickhead.  Go back to sipping your wine and looking hot in your suit in silence.”

Although Harry obeys her order and picks up his wine glass with nimble fingers, his eyes grow teasingly large over the rim, accent dripping with faux shock. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d hope you know that,” Y/N says cooly as she grasps the stem of her own glass. “I don’t let just anyone choke me.”

It’s Harry’s turn to cough on his liquor as he registers the comment, and he struggles not to spill the dark liquid down the front of his brand new suit as he barks out a laugh.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he says after he swallows the drink, setting his glass back down on the table firmly. “I don’t let just anyone use my jacuzzi whenever they want.”

“Right, right, because you allowing me to use your hot tub is equivalent to me letting you wrap your fingers around my throat.” Y/N snorts, drumming her digits against the table top. “Practically identical.”

Harry snakes his hand across the table and cards their grips once more, squeezing her fingers playfully as he taps against her knuckles. “It’s not like you complain while it’s happening.”

“Only because it’s hard to talk when my air flow is restricted.”

“Really?  Because you still manage to moan just fine.”

Harry delights in the way her eyes hurriedly dash to the other diners, her heartbeat stuttering in her heaving chest.  He likes that he can still get a rise out of her with his crude jokes, even after all he’s said to her.

“Christ, Harry, lower your voice!  Don’t let anyone hear you!” Y/N protests, cupping a hand over her sizzling cheek.

“No one can hear me, love.” He chuckles lightly as he reassures her with another squeeze of her fingers. “S’why I always request a private table.”

“Oh, so you have a pattern, then?” She quirks an eyebrow at the comment. “Do you bring women here that often to discuss choking?  So much that you need a private table?”

Although there’s a mocking air to her words, Harry’s laugh cuts off. “No.  I don’t.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat as she raises her wine glass to her lips. “I don’t believe you.  I think I’ll ask Vinzenco on our way out.  He seems like an honest man.”

Cool relief flushes through Harry’s body, but he hides it behind an incredulous gasp. “So what I’m hearing is that you’re interested in him.  Do you want Vincenzo to choke you instead?” His face breaks into a look of exaggerated disbelief tinged with fake disgust. “He’s married, you tramp!”

Y/N can’t help but laugh when Harry yanks his hand away from hers, pretending to wipe it on his napkin while gagging, as if touching her is a horrendous act. 

“I hate you.” She giggles, shaking her head slowly. 

“I promise you that no matter how much you hate me, Vincenzo’s wife would hate you tenfold.” Harry shakes out his hand before setting it back down on the table. 

“Don’t worry.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the exaggeration. “I don’t plan on breaking up a marriage tonight.”

“How gracious of you.” Harry murmurs, but he leans forward with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shamelessly canvasses Y/N’s body. “You could, you know.  Vincenzo is only a man.  Look how you had Poor Luca drooling tonight.  You in that dress…” He settles his eyes on her prominent cleavage. “Y’look like Aphrodite, almost.”

Despite the heat that flashes over Y/N’s entire body, she keeps her voice dry when she responds. “I don’t know about that; this isn’t much of a grecian look.”

“Well…” A grin creeps onto Harry’s face, igniting his jade irises with humour. “You look like Aphrodite if Aphrodite was a twenty-first century sugar baby.”

Y/N’s mouth drops open before she spits out an indignant reply. “I’m not a sugar baby!”

“Sorry, who bought you that dress?”

“That doesn’t count—”

“And who do you call ‘daddy’?”

Harry can hear the way blood rushes to her cheeks, and it sends a delicious shiver down his spine. 

Y/N, however, glares up at him through her thick lashes, her hands twisting the cloth napkin in her lap. “You’re a prick.”

“I’m simply stating facts, darling.” Harry sighs lightly, ducking one of his hands underneath the table and reaching to give her bare knee a squeeze.  He revels in the way she jumps at his touch. “And I’ve got videos of you whimpering that over and over to prove it.”

“If you keep this up,” Y/N says, forcing her voice to stay steady as she nods to his grasp on her skin. “You won’t be getting any more of them.”

“Is that so?” Harry’s hand travels further up her leg, the metal of his rings icy against the heated flesh of her inner thighs. “Guess you won’t be getting any more videos of me playing with myself either, then.  Fair’s fair.”

The whimper that falls from Y/N’s lips is so quiet that if Harry were human, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it. “Harry—” 

“You don’t like that, do you?” He taunts lowly, continuing to rub over her thigh as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “The idea of me taking that away? Of never seeing me lose myself for you on video ever again?”

Y/N clears her throat thickly. “N-No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his free hand, Harry lifts his wine to his lips, taking a long sip as his darkened eyes stay locked to hers. “So you’d better behave for me then, hm?”

Despite the electrifying way her entire body is starting to fizzle, Y/N still manages to choke out an amused scoff. “You’re starting to sound like a cheap porno, H.  Be careful.”

“Careful?  You want to be careful?” Harry asks, eyebrows poised as he digs his fingertips into the meaty flesh of her thigh. “Alright.”

In one fast motion, Harry snakes his hand completely up Y/N’s dress to cup over her lace-covered cunt, running the pads of his fingers over the dampening cloth.  He hooks one finger into the side of the lace and gives a sharp yank, and although Y/N’s not sure how he does it, or how Harry attained the sudden rush of strength needed to do so, she feels the delicate fabric rip right down the center. 

Before she can even process what’s happened, the act is over as quickly as it started as Harry settles back into his seat, eyebrows cocked in a conceited fashion as he watches her assess the new issue. 

“You’ll have to be careful now, won’t you, minx?  Gonna have t’keep your legs closed like a proper good girl— which I know is hard for you whenever I’m around.” He teases, his hand still clenched under the table as the other raises his glass to his strawberry lips. “Otherwise we might have a little mishap, hm?”

Y/N’s breath stutters in her pounding chest as she clenches her thighs as tight as she can. “You didn’t.”

Raising his hand from beneath the table, Harry opens his palm for just a moment, flashing her the scrap of black lace that had once been her panties before coasting his hand beneath his jacket and tucking the article into his pocket. “Didn't I?”

“Harry!” Y/N hisses, her voice dangerously low as she leans over the table. 

“Yes?” He replies innocently, wrapping his hand firmly around his glass. “Something the matter?”

Y/N gapes at the man across from her in disbelief. “You’re such a dick, you know that?” 

“I promise you, I’m well aware.” Harry laughs lightly as he polishes off the last of his wine. “But it’s not like you don’t like it.  You wouldn’t bounce on my cock if you didn’t.”

Sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth, Y/N clenches the tight satin of her dress in her fists. “God, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah?” Harry quirks an eyebrow with a cocky smirk. “Good luck trying to catch me without flashing your entire arse to the kitchen staff.”

“I swear on my life, I’m going to rip off your—” 

“Ciao, Harry! Bella donna!” Vincenzo’s voice cuts over Y/N’s thinly-veiled threat as he approaches the table with arms wide and a smile pasted onto his face. “Come trovi tutto? Possiamo portarti dell'altro vino? La carta dei dolci?” How are you finding everything?  Can we get you more wine?  The dessert menu?

“È tutto delizioso, Vincenzo, grazie.” Everything is delicious, Vincenzo, thank you. Harry drawls, his grin growing as he turns to Y/N with a condescending tilt of his head. “What do you think, tesoro?  Are you in the mood for dessert?  Or have you had enough?”

Y/N’s mouth is too dry for her to answer, especially with the way Harry’s irises twinkle suggestively at his own words, so she finishes the last dregs of her wine before shaking her head tightly. “No— no dessert for me, thanks.”

Vincenzo heaves a dramatic gasp as he turns his full attention to her. “Bella donna, what is this?  Surely you want to try our dessert?  Even just some homemade gelato?”

“Oh, no, Vincenzo, thank you, but I don’t think I could squeeze any more food into my stomach.” Y/N fights to keep herself from sounding flustered, but she knows it’s a losing battle when she hears Harry mutter something about how wonderful she is at squeezing under his breath.

Vincenzo clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, twisting his astonished gaze back to Harry. “Harry, per favore, sicuramente puoi convincere il tuo appuntamento a mangiare un boccone di dessert? È sulla casa.” Harry, please, surely you can convince your date to have a bite of dessert?  It’s on the house.

The vampire presses his tongue into his cheek as he appraises Y/N again, the clenching of her abdomen drawing his eye more than anything else. Harry uses the tip of his boot to once again trail up the back of her calf beneath the tablecloth, giving her a wicked grin. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else, tesoro?”

Y/N jerks her head once more as a shadow crosses over her eyes. “No, thank you.” She reiterates in a strained voice.

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Harry twists to face Vincenzo again, voice surrendered. “Grazie per l'offerta, Vincenzo, ma sembra che stiamo bene. Accettiamo solo il conto, per favore.” Thank you for the offer, Vincenzo, but it looks like we’re fine.  We’ll just take the check, please.

The restaurant owner sighs in disappointment, but nods in acceptance. “Va bene, va bene, solo l'assegno. Ma la prossima volta che torni, mi amore,” Vincenzo shifts his attention back to Y/N, who meets his smile as best as she can. “Dovrai provare due dolci per compensare la mancanza di uno stasera, vero?” Okay, okay, just the check.  But next time you come back, my love, you’ll have to try two desserts to make up for the lack of one tonight, yes?

Harry leans across the table and whispers the translation low in her ear, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine as it rolls over her body.

“Yes, Vincenzo.  Next time.” Y/N promises quickly, clasping her hands tightly around the hem of her tight dress as the thigh slit begins to ride up.

Vincenzo motions over his shoulder for Luca to bring the check, chatting happily to Harry in Italian throughout the whole transaction.  Y/N stays quiet the entire time, instinctively hiding her boiling cheeks behind her hands each time one of them casts a glance her way.�� Despite the nerves wreaking havoc in her belly, Harry continues to make casual conversation as he swipes his credit card, laughing and joking with Vincenzo like he has all the time in the world.  By the time the restaurant owner bids them both goodbye, Y/N’s certain she’s sweated well through the thin fabric of her dress from her nerves.

Harry, however, looks perfectly at ease as he tucks his wallet back into his suit jacket. “You handled that well, doll.  ‘M proud of you.” He says easily, rubbing a finger down the condensation dotting his glass of ice water. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Y/N hisses at him, clenching her thighs together as another waiter passes dangerously close to their table. “How am I supposed to walk out of here without anyone noticing?”

“Like this.” Harry rises from the table and extends a hand to Y/N, who eyes it warily from her seated position. “C’mon, love, you’re going to have to trust me.” He goads her with a sigh, wiggling his fingers until Y/N gives in and settles her palm inside his.

Making sure his own body is hiding Y/N from the line of sight of anyone else, Harry helps pull his lover from her chair before removing his jacket with one swift motion.  He settles the rich grey fabric over her bare shoulders, draping the article in such a way that it covers the deep thigh slit that exposes her bare skin. 

“How’s that?” Harry asks lowly, voice tender as he fixes the collar of the jacket around Y/N’s delicate neck. “S’that better?”

The moment Harry’s familiar and intoxicating cologne fills her senses, all the irritation evaporates from Y/N’s veins, leaving behind only the quiet thrum of attraction that’s intensified by the man’s fragrance. 

“Yeah.” She whispers, the cadence of her voice nearing shyness as Harry tugs a lock of hair from underneath the collar of the jacket. “It’s a bit better.”

“Good.” The vampire leans down and stamps his lips to the girl’s forehead, letting his mouth linger for a few seconds before straightening up. “I promise I won’t let anyone see anything.  And even if someone does see something, as long as you’re with me, nobody will say a word.”

Y/N nods gently as Harry grasps her hand in his own to lead her out of the restaurant and back to his car. “Alright.  I trust you.”

That warmth from earlier begins to spread through Harry’s chest again the moment she utters the words. “I’m glad to hear that.” He snakes his hand inside the jacket, brushing his fingertips against her breast before dipping his hand into the pocket.  When he withdraws it, the lace of her ripped panties is visible for only a moment before he tucks it into the back of his slacks with a smirk. “These are mine now. A little spoil of war for my trophy case.”

Despite his protective stance around her as he begins to weave the two of them through tables, Y/N scoffs at the action. “I still can’t believe you did that, you asshole.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” Harry glances over his shoulder as he quirks an eyebrow teasingly. “Alright, then.  I can just drop you back off at your apartment, if you’d like.  Go back to my place alone tonight. Gonna have to unbutton my trousers on my own, and peel this nice shirt off by myself, and crawl in between my sheets rather than in between your thighs. Such a shame.”

Y/N can’t stop the whine that echoes the back of her throat. “No, H—”

“That’s what I thought.” Harry steps back from her just enough to tug open the glass front door of the restaurant, his eyes already settling on the valet.  When he speaks, however, it’s just for her to hear, and her alone. It sends a current of anticipation through her veins as it washes across the shell of her ear, his breath smelling of sweet grapes and notes of cherry from their wine, thick with the tangy scent of liquor and cooler than usual from the chilled beverage. Despite that coldness, his next promise settles into her exposed core with a familiar heat that she knows only he can resolve.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet. It’s gonna be a long night.” 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #vampire!harry #vampire!harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #vampire au #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #one direction fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #ysijwa #writing

[tetsuwhore]

𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 | 𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮

Night Club AU! Series: Vol i.

‘It wasn’t a normal occurrence for him to lose his composure, the collectedness that he worked so hard to maintain. And yet, here you are, shattering it like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.’

Description: having had enough of you teasing him in front of your friends, Kuroo decides to remind you of your place.

Warning: explicit smut - hard dom!Kuroo, daddy kink, degradation/dirty talk, lil bit of brat taming, overstimulation, semi-public sex, accidental exhibitionism, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 4.3k

Song Rec: What I Want by She Wants Revenge

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was thinking.

He sees you at the bar, casually leaning against the table. You’ve got an elbow on the bar top, lithe fingers twirling around a loose lock of hair as you lightly sway your head along to the beat of the music. It’s some kind of electropop, but he’s not really paying attention.

He was always thinking. 

Suddenly, you still. Turning your head around, body still facing away from him, your eyes lock on his. Your gaze is intent, as if you were trying to tell him that you knew he was watching you. His eyes trail down your face, captivated by the sight of your thumb nail slightly slipping between your lips. Then, the moment passes, and you turn back away from him. 

Kuroo’s mind was constantly working, like cogs in a well-oiled machine. His thoughts always moved steadily; never rushed. He took in what he could sense around him, chewing it carefully, meticulously picking at the little details before deciding how to act. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for him to lose his composure, the collectedness that he worked so hard to maintain. 

And yet, here you are, shattering it like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. 

You’re walking towards him now, taking slow steps as you playfully sway your hips along to the tune. He finds himself fixated on your face again. His eyes can’t tear away from your pretty, pretty lips, lightly pulled into a mischievous smile as you advance closer to his form. 

“Here you go, babe. Black Russian.”

Accepting the glass from you, he shifts on the leather sofa, giving you space to resume your previous position, nestled into his side. Sipping the drink, he allows the bittersweet taste to dance around his tongue as he vaguely makes out the conversation happening before him. You have an arm loosely looped around his shoulders as you lean into his chest, laughing at something Bokuto is saying. 

(He’s been too preoccupied to focus on the topic of conversation. He hopes Akaashi doesn’t notice.)

“Kuroo-san, are you alright? You’ve been rather quiet.”

(For fucks sake, with how obvious he was being, of course Akaashi would notice.)

“Yeah, baby, you feeling okay?” 

Your voice is so deceptively saccharine when you look at him, lashes fluttering innocently as you join Akaashi in voicing your concern. They have no way of knowing that your hand, currently perched on his shoulder, is lightly pulling at the small hairs on the back of his neck. It’s right where he’s sensitive, and just the way he likes it.

(And you know this. He knows you know, and he knows you’re getting such a kick out of leaving him so agitated.)

Lightly nodding, he brushes it off, saying he was just a little worn out from all the dancing. Shrugging in acceptance, Akaashi and Bokuto continue their conversation. 

And you continue what you’ve been doing all night.

Your lips are so pretty, but so, so dangerous. Especially when they’re right up against his ear, whispering all kinds of filth. They’re in your native tongue, and he can’t understand them - not explicitly at least. 

He doesn’t need to. Not when you’re practically purring them into his ear, words slipping off your tongue in a silky, sultry tone that sends a flaring heat crawling up all the way from deep inside him, to the back of his neck. 

He grips your other hand, stopping it from moving any higher up his thigh, squeezing it in warning. Hearing you huff and pull away, he almost breathes a sigh of relief. Almost, because you immediately follow up with another sentence. 

One that makes him tense up, as he catches the very last word. 

“...daddy.” 

Kuroo was always thinking. He could be bold in his actions, yes, but it was after careful mental consideration of the risks. The things he said or the way he behaved - they were always done consciously, deliberately, strategically. 

Kuroo was not an impulsive person. 

And yet, he finds himself turning to Akaashi and Bokuto, stumbling over some half-assed excuse about how he needed to find a bathroom because he ‘wasn’t feeling very well’. 

He ignores their bewildered expressions as he grabs your hand, pulling you up with him. He ignores the knowing look Akaashi sends Bokuto as he drags you behind him, maneuvering past the sea of dancing bodies, scouring the area for an isolated corner away from the flashing lights and prying eyes.

You groan as he slams you against the wall, melding his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Before you can get too lost in his hold, you push him away. Curious, you ask, “Why didn’t you just make up some excuse so we could leave altogether? I mean, Akaashi already-”

“You think,” his voice is gruff as he snarls, “that I can wait long enough for us to get home?” His eyes - dark and stoney as they lock on yours in a scorching gaze - make you shudder. He’s breathing heavily, jaw clenched tight, and a visible vein on his forehead, as he glares down at you. 

He looks like a wild animal gone feral. And right now, you’re his prey. 

Glancing warily at the group of people walking just down the empty hallway that he’s pulled you into, you attempt to protest, “Wait, Tetsu, we can’t just- not here-”

“Don’t even try to tell me that the little stunt you’ve been pulling all night wasn’t you begging to get fucked right here. You knew exactly what you were doing.” 

And then he’s on you again, hot mouth pressed hard against yours. The bruising hold he has on your hips makes you moan - from pain, or from arousal, you don’t know. You don’t have time to care either, not when he’s deepening the kiss, making it grow hungrier, more animalistic. The grip you have on his shirt tightens as his tongue darts between your lips, licking against the back of your teeth before melding with yours. 

It’s him who pulls away this time, ignoring your whine at the loss of contact. 

“What, you thought you could just rile me up in front of our friends and I’d let you get away with it?” Clicking his tongue, he continues, “Since you seem to enjoy behaving like a slut, you’re going to get treated like one. On your knees.”

Glancing down at the floor, you grimace at the thought of your naked skin touching the muck and grime collected at the surface. Looking back up at him, you protest, “But, Tetsu, it’s filthy.”

“Dunno why the fuck you care about that. After all, you seemed sure okay with spewing absolute filth in my ear only minutes ago, huh, sweetheart?”

Seeing you attempting to complain again, he sneers, “Would you prefer if I fucked my fist instead? And left you with nothing?” 

Chuckling sardonically at the sight of you frantically shaking your head, he orders, tone firm and commanding, “Yeah, didn’t think so. Then don’t be a brat. On your knees.” 

You obey him this time, sinking down to your knees so you’re face to face with his clothed crotch. He watches you intently, remaining silent - you know what you have to do without needing further instruction. Making haste, you unzip his pants, moving his boxers down so you can grab a hold of his cock. 

Smearing the moisture pooling at the tip with your thumb, you place wet kisses along its length, lubricating it enough for your hand to begin slowly pumping it at the base. Casting your eyes up at him, you wrap your lips around the tip, mentally patting yourself on the back when you hear him hiss at the sensation.

He watches as you begin moving your head up and down his length, your hand pumping the rest from his base. “C’mon, sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he grunts, saying nothing more. He doesn’t have to - you already know what he means. You take your hands off his cock and place them both on the outside of his thighs to steady yourself. 

Taking a deep breath, you slowly inch yourself forward, taking in as much as you can. You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes as you keep going, willing yourself not to gag when you feel him reach closer to the back of your throat. Opening your eyes, you almost choke in surprise when you realize that he’s barely halfway in. 

He bites his lip as he looks down at you, struggling, but nonetheless forcing yourself to work his entire length into your mouth. You’re so, so pretty, knelt down, with your lips wrapped tight around his dick, stray tears streaming down your face. He can’t help the prick of pride as he watches you work yourself ragged, pushing and fighting to stuff more of his cock into your warm mouth.  

All for his pleasure. 

Taking pity on you, he gently taps your cheek, speaking breathily, “Alright, tha-that’s enough.” You pull away, lips leaving behind a string of saliva still connected to the head of his cock. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you hold on to his forearms and pull yourself back up. 

“Since you were so obedient, I think you deserve a little reward, hmm?” he coos, smirking as he drinks in your current flustered state. It’s such a stark contrast to the seductive temptress from earlier, and he has to hold back an amused laugh.

You’re breathing unevenly, face flushed pink and swollen lips slightly open as you release shallow exhales. Hearing his question, you nod hesitantly. 

“Nuh uh, use your words, baby. What do you want me to do?”  

“I- I want you to fuck me, Tetsu.”

Shaking his head, he tuts, moving his face to your ear before whispering, “Nope, not ‘Tetsu’. I want you to say it exactly like earlier.”

Understanding flickering in your eyes, you sink into his embrace, murmuring, “I want you to fuck me… daddy.”

His reaction is immediate. Pulling you back into his chest, he jerks your chin up to engage you in a needy kiss. Meanwhile, his hands frantically reach under the hem of your skirt, fingers looping into the band of your panties before yanking them down your thighs. Helping him, you rustle around, kicking it down to allow him to pick it and push it into his pocket. 

With his lips still pressed hard against yours, Kuroo nudges your legs apart, giving him space to place his free hand between them. He groans as his fingers lightly trace your slit, feeling the slickness dripping down from your heat. “Fuck,” he grunts against your lips, “you this worked up just from choking on my dick?”

Licking your lips, you glance up at him, murmuring breathily, “Been worked up for a lot longer than that, daddy.” God, that fucking word again. He doesn’t know what it is, but hearing it from your lips has him tensing up, releasing what almost sounds like a growl.

Moving his fingers upwards, he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit, ignoring the sting as you sink your nails into his forearm in an attempt to remain steady. Your form is hunched over slightly - without his arm supporting you, you likely would’ve fallen over, legs too weak to hold you up. 

A shiny sheen of sweat covers your skin as you close your eyes, bottom lip pulled in between your teeth in a pathetic attempt to hide your moans - it’s useless, with how he’s increasing the pace of his fingers against you. You can’t hold back your needy whines as he works faster, amping up the pressure to the point where you can almost feel the knot in your stomach come undone.

“Tet- daddy,” you quickly correct yourself, “W-What if someone hears?”

“Let ‘em. Then they’ll get to hear all the pretty sounds my girl makes,” he grins wickedly before adding, “But, if it bothers you so much, maybe I should gag you with your panties?” Screwing your eyes shut at the humiliating thought, you shake your head quickly, prompting another chuckle from him. 

Right when you think he can’t do any more, Kuroo slips a finger in, nudging it around until he finds the sweet spot inside that has you crying out aloud. And then, just as you’re tethering on the edge of falling apart completely, you suddenly hear an unfamiliar laugh. Your eyes shoot open as the horror quickly sinks in. 

There is a man standing at the end of the hallway. 

There is a man watching as your unsuspecting boyfriend, still knuckle deep in your hot cunt, keeps going, completely oblivious to the unwelcome eyes ogling you. 

And before you can speak up, warn Kuroo of what is happening, you feel your orgasm convulse through you. 

It’s so, so humiliating, feeling your body shudder involuntary as you come to terms with the fact that this stranger had just seen you at your most vulnerable. The smug smirk on his face only makes matters worse as you feel the back of your neck grow scorching hot with embarrassment. Weakly calling out to Kuroo, you nudge his chin to the side with your head, alerting him. 

All it takes is a single sharp glare from Kuroo to send the man running. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to relax a bit. That is, until you feel your boyfriend resume the ministrations of his fingers against your sensitive core. Gasping in disbelief, you attempt to push his hand away, a complaint on the tip of your lips as you look up at your grinning boyfriend in shock.  

“B-But he just- he just saw us! What if someone else-”

“Aw, don’t give me that bullshit, angel,” he interrupts, tone mocking, “If it bothered you so much, then why can I feel you getting wetter, hmm?” He smirks as he keeps pumping his finger into your soaking cunt for emphasis, snickering at your embarrassed whine upon hearing the loud squelching sounds of his motions. 

“Mhm, look at how tight your pretty little cunt is, all clenched up around my finger,” he continues, feline eyes fixated on where his digits continue moving between your thighs, “You’re practically swallowing me up. You like the idea of some creep watching as I make you cum?”

Hearing you whine in response, he laughs, “Oh, baby, you’re just so easy to rile up.” 

He’s spewing the filthiest sentences, humiliating you to no end, all while still donning that shit-eating grin. And yet, you know he’s right - you hate how right he is. You hate how easy it is for him to get you so painfully needy and soaked with just his fingers alone. You hate how he could flip all the teasing on to you, using his domineering tone to turn you into a pliant mess. 

And you especially hate how quickly you find yourself giving up control and allowing him to do exactly as he pleases. 

You gasp out in surprise when you feel him pull away and flip you around, positioning you so your back is pressed up against his chest. His fingers move back to you, abandoning the lazy pace from earlier and instead, opting for a quickened tempo that has you crying out in ecstasy.

The movements of his fingers are brutal, rubbing hard against your clit, circling over it again, and again, and again. You’re trying to speak up, tell him that it was too much, that your clit was already too sensitive from your previous orgasm from only minutes ago. But the words remain choked up in your throat, your lips too busy releasing the most whiny noises. 

Noticing your garbled speech, Kuroo moves his face so he’s at your ear, voice laced with mock concern, “Sorry, sweetheart, trying to tell me something?” Hearing you whimper as you try to muster up a response, he lets out a dark laugh, voice taunting as he speaks.

“You were all talk when we were with Akaashi and Bokuto. What’s wrong now, kitten? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you just needed daddy to put you in your place, hmm?” 

“D-Daddy, it’s too- too much... please...”

Realizing that your weak whisper wouldn’t do anything to stop him, you make the pathetic attempt to close your legs, trapping his hand between them and slowing (but not quite stopping) his movements. 

(God, you should’ve known better.)

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that, baby…”

As you feel his free hand move under your thigh, prying it away from the other and lifting it up until it’s pulled taut against your abdomen, you quickly realize what a big mistake you’ve made. 

Not only were you now forced to balance all your weight on a single (very shaky) leg, your core was now fully exposed for his fingers to explore. And explore he does, pushing a second finger inside you while grinding his palm against your clit. Your predicament was only made worse as he pulled your thigh tighter against your chest, opening you up further to his touch.

“Daddy! D-Daddy, please... let my leg down, p-please!”

Humming in amusement, he asks, “Hmm, I don’t know. Do you promise to keep ‘em open for me?” 

“Yes! I-I won’t stop you… I p-promise…”

You gain some semblance of stability now that you’re back on your feet and have his arm wrapped around your midriff again. Just in time too - you feel yourself reaching close to your second orgasm, body squirming and writhing involuntarily in his hold. 

The way his fingers are curling and uncurling inside you is so, so delicious, and you can practically taste the sweetness of your impending climax. The sensation of his hot mouth, licking and biting as it trails along your neck, isn’t helping either. All previous thoughts about oversensitivity abandon your mind as you find yourself growing dizzier with every passing second, desperate for that high. 

And he gives it to you. No. He does more than just give you your orgasm.

Allowing you to dig your nails deep into his forearm, he ruts his palm faster and harder against your clit, giving you more, and more, and more, until he’s practically wrenching your orgasm out of you. It’s much stronger than the previous - more explosive - and you find yourself screaming for him when you finally, finally cum.

Kuroo tightens the grip of his arm when he feels your knees buckle, chuckling as he watches you loll your head back against his chest, your eyes lidded in a heavy daze. But then, as his eyes trail down and catch a glimpse of your lips - swollen and red from how much you had been biting them -  he’s reminded of how painfully hard he is, cock throbbing from having been neglected for so long. 

“C’mon, baby, up against the wall so daddy can fuck you.”

You’re so fucked out, you let him maneuver your body as he likes, allowing him to press your pliant form against the wall. Pulling the fabric of your skirt over your ass, he inches forward, grinding his length along your soaked core in an effort to lubricate himself. Kuroo lets out a sharp hiss at the contact, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation - so much so, that he doesn’t catch you weakly calling out his name. 

“T-Tetsu, wait!” you try again.

This time, he hears. Alarmed by your distressed tone, he makes quick work of turning you back around to face him. Cupping your cheek, he presses, “Hey, talk to me, sweetheart. Is it too much? You wanna stop?” His tone is laced with concern as he worries that he has perhaps pushed you too much. 

Shaking your head lightly, you respond, “No, I don’t want to stop.” Kuroo waits patiently, allowing you to speak at your own pace. “Just, uh… Can we do it,” gesturing down to the front of your body, “like this? Please, I- I need to touch you.”

“Of course we can, sweetheart,” he chuckles, moving your arms to loop them around his neck. Bending slightly, he grips the back of your thighs, lifting you up and shifting so you can comfortably wrap your legs around his waist. 

Kuroo is quick to sense when you’ve burnt out, sharply reading your body language and changing his approach accordingly. So when you’re looking up at him like you are now - eyes practically pleading for him to go softer - how can he deny you?

“Mhm, you’ve been such a good girl for me. Now, how about I take care of you, hmm?” Kuroo murmurs quietly, the gentleness of his voice a stark contrast from the raspiness of earlier. Softly pressing his lips against yours, he lines himself up with your core, swallowing your gasps as he inches forward. 

“Tetsu, you’re so b-big...” you whimper, eyes screwed shut. “I know, baby, but look at how well you’re taking me,” he breathes against your lips, “T-Taking, all of my cock like, uh- like a good girl.” Nodding vigorously, you whine, “Gonna take all of it. Wan- wanna be your good girl.” 

“That’s right, my good girl,” rolling his hips into yours, he grunts, “Mine. All mine.” 

Freeing one of his hands to caress your cheek, Kuroo whispers, “Hold on tight, yeah baby?” You only have time to increase your grip on his shoulders before you feel him move. Digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs, he pulls his hips back. 

And then, in one powerful thrust, he’s completely inside your heat. 

Your eyes widen, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your body reels from the force of his hips colliding into yours. Then, he does it again, And again. And, again. You’re conscious of the ache in your thighs from gripping his hips so tight, but you choose to ignore it, instead reveling in the euphoric sensation of his cock hitting the little spot inside you. 

He’s grimacing at every thrust, groaning, “Fuck, how are you s-still, uh, still so fucking tight?” Your walls cling tightly to his length, making it a struggle to even pull out. Driving himself into you with merciless abandon, he focuses on your sweet moans, incentive enough to push himself to give you more. 

Your breath is hot against his skin, and you’ve reverted back to your foreign tongue as you sob into his ear what he assumes are sweet nothings. Kuroo makes a conscious effort to jut his pelvic bone upwards, grinding it against your clit with every thrust. All his energy is now solely focused on pushing you over the edge one final time. 

And it’s all completely worth it when you do. He bites his lip as he watches the spectacle before him - you’re crying out, head thrown back, eyes tightly shut as you allow the waves of euphoria to course through your veins. You’ve clamped up completely, making him grit his teeth as he fights to reach his own release.

You’re barely coherent, babbling with your face buried in the crook of his neck. “Tetsu, please, I can’t hold on for much longer,” you beg, tears freely streaming down your eyes in response to the overstimulation, “I need you to cum for me. Oh, god, please, daddy, please... Cum for me and fill me up!”

It’s exactly what he needs. With a rumbling growl, he bites on to your shoulder as he releases into you. His cock continues inching in and out of your slopping cunt, painting your walls white with his cum. 

When he finally feels the shocks of pleasure subside, he allows his forehead to rest against your own, feline eyes looking straight into yours.

Your features break out into a soft smile as you tenderly cup his cheeks, tilting your head up to plant a soft kiss on his nose before trailing your lips down to place them on his. 

Pulling away, you chuckle, “God, I can’t believe we just did that. Who knew your nerdy ass was capable of fucking my brains out at some seedy nightclub, huh.”

Rolling his eyes jokingly, he slowly plants you back down on your feet, sniggering at your whimper when he pulls out of your sensitive core, leaving behind a trail of his milky emission. Adopting a more serious tone, Kuroo asks, “It wasn’t too much though, right? I didn’t go too far with the dirty talk?” 

Shaking your head, you reassure, “It was good. A little overwhelming towards the end, but no, I liked it.” A mischievous grin crawls on to your face as you look up at him, tone teasing.

“So… daddy, huh?”

Groaning, he quips back, “Hey, are we not going to talk about how you practically came all over my dick every time I called you a good girl?”

Looking up at him, you grip on to his shirt, murmuring, “I mean... I like being your good girl.”

Biting his lip at your alluring tone, his voice is quiet as he whispers, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggle back. 

Chuckling lightly, he presses a soft kiss against your forehead. “Let’s go find the bathrooms so we can get you cleaned up, hmm?” he murmurs absent-mindedly as he turns his head, peering into the hallway in search of a bathroom. 

In retrospect, he should’ve known. 

He really should’ve realized that you wouldn’t simply let this moment pass without seizing the opportunity to fluster him again, now that he was back to his easy-going self. And so, he feels more than a little foolish when he chokes on air upon hearing your next words.

“Forget the bathrooms. Like you said, you need to teach me my place, right? So what better way to do that than to have me spend the rest of the night walking around with your cum dripping down my thighs?”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #pick your poison series #alcohol tw

[thegreatestofheck]

Not So Unrequited ⚜ JJ Maybank ⚜

request - (from Anon)  JJ and the reader arguing about anything and he’s like I Love you and she’s begging him not to say it because she doesn’t think she can be loved. warnings - swearing (lots and lots your welcome), steaminess,  synopsis - in the middle of an argument with your best friend, he says something to you that you had never wanted to hear. 

(thank you for this, anon, I love it! I hope this is what you wanted, I made it a lil steamy because- well, I have no excuse. Threw a little bit of body positivity in there because everyone is beautiful, and you all deserve to know that.)

“God, you’re such an idiot,” Kie sighed, pressing an ice pack against JJ’s cheek. “She’s gonna be pissed.” 

JJ rolled his eyes, letting Kie baby him because it made the both of them feel a little bit better. He opened his mouth to say something when the door to the Chateau opened. 

He had expected it to fly open with a flurry followed by the hurricane that was y/n. But when it creaked slowly, barely opening enough for you to slide inside, both Kie and JJ froze. JJ flicked his gaze away from Kie and met yours. 

A chill ran down his spine at the look in your eye. Silent as you were, everything that you weren’t saying was storming behind your eyes. Your dead calm was more terrifying than your raging storm. 

You walked into the dark Chateau and leaned yourself up against the wall, crossing your arms. Tension shrouded the room. Kie felt like she had stepped in the middle of a show down, her movements on JJ’s bruised knuckles short and awkward. JJ knew he was about to get his ass handed to him in a verbal beat down and he wasn’t really in the mood for it right now. 

And you, you were pissed off. Beyond pissed off. 

Kie stood slowly, setting her cleaning supplies off to the side. She glanced quickly over at you, but your gaze was fixed solely on the blond boy currently nursing a bruised cheekbone. With a sigh, Kie put a hand on JJ’s shoulder. 

“Good luck,” she whispered before making a quick break for the door. JJ grunted in response.

The tension in the room increased ten times when Kie left. JJ refused to meet your gaze again, still holding the ice pack to his face. 

“Why are the lights off?” you asked, breaking through the silence. 

“Hurts my head,” JJ mumbled. You resisted the urge to sigh dramatically. 

“Cause you have a concussion. That’s what you get for getting in a 3-on-1 fight.” 

JJ tightened his jaw and slouched farther in his seat, dropping his hands into his lap. You finally let out that sigh you had been fighting back. Pushing yourself off of the wall, you crossed the room and lowered yourself to the floor in front of JJ’s feet. He watched you carefully with wide, curious eyes, just waiting for you to explode.

But you didn’t.

You lifted your hand slowly and took the ice pack from his hand and gently pressed it back against his swollen face. His breath hitched in his throat from the sudden cold. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

Being so close to you made him freeze, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. It made him want to throw up. He wondered why people liked falling in love if this was how it felt. Or maybe this was only what an unrequited love felt like. 

“You are a fucking idiot for taking those guys on like that,” you said, your voice quiet but shaking. 

“They were dicks,” JJ replied. He looked away from you as you cradled the ice pack in your hand. 

“You can’t fight every dick in the world, Jay.” 

“But I can fight every dick who treats you like shit.” 

You’re calmness started to quake, threatening to become something far more wild. 

“I don’t need you to defend me,” you told him, setting your jaw to keep your anger at bay. He had been trying to help, after all. JJ scoffed and slouched even farther. You pulled the ice pack away and scowled. “What, you think I need you to fight my own battles?” 

“You can but you don’t,” JJ snapped. “You let them harass you and call you names. You let them get away with it.” 

“I don’t let anyone do anything. I just don’t justify their taunting with a response. They’re not worth my time.” Your eyes narrowed at JJ. It had always been this way. Someone said anything bad about you and he would throw himself into a fight instantly, even if you were unphased. You just wondered why in the hell he thought that meant he should take it into his own hands. “If they’re not worth my time they’re sure as hell not worth you getting all bloodied up for.” 

“God, you do this every time.” JJ pushed himself up out of the chair and stepped past you. You glowered at him as he paced toward the other side of the room. Rising from you ground, you couldn’t bite back your irritated response. 

“Every time you do something stupid? Yeah, I’m sorry for caring about your sorry ass. Newsflash, jerk face, but I don’t like seeing you get beat up. It’s not fun, for any of us.” 

JJ ran his hands through his hair, but he didn’t say anything, which only fueled your fire even more. You crossed your arms and your glower turned into a full glare. 

“Why do you insist on fighting every goddamn prick who has to run their mouth?” You continued. “What’s so important that you have to throw yourself into every fight? Why can’t you just leave it be?” 

He still didn’t respond, but he turned his back on you as his face went red. 

“Huh? Are you listening to me? Jay, why-”

“Because I love you, goddammit!” JJ whirled around to face you, his eyes wide, his hair a mess, his breathing ragged. You stiffened, the anger in your chest vanishing like a painful mist. 

“What?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the shock evident in your face. JJ’s face fell in desperation, dropping his hands back to his side. 

“I love you.” He said it again, much more desperate, but with no less emotion. JJ almost smiled. He took one short step toward you and you took one back, your eyes dropping to the ground. JJ’s smile fell. 

“Well, stop it,” was all you could find to say, your voice still quiet. 

“What?” You hated to hear the heartbreak in his voice, but it was better that you break his heart now than ten years down the road. 

“Just, stop!” Your hands trembled at your sides. 

“Stop what? Stop loving you? I tried that already and it didn’t work.” You crossed your arms over your stomach and turned your face away from him. “Say something, please. Anything.” 

“I don’t even know what love is, JJ. How could you possibly know?” You asked, still not looking at him. He shrugged his shoulders, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“All I know is that every time I’m around you, I want to be holding you and my stomach gets all tied up in knots. That I miss you whenever you’re no around. That whenever I see you with another guy, I want to tear his fucking throat out. That it fucking breaks my heart when you cry. That I would burn down the entire world before I let anyone hurt you.” 

You finally looked up, your heart beating wildly in your chest. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, not now, not ever. You were supposed to just be friends. It was better that way. 

“What happens when those feelings go away, huh?” You asked, nose burning and eyes brimming with tears. “I say I love you back and we start dating and we get married and have kids and then what happens when you don’t have those feelings anymore and you wake up some day and you don’t love me anymore, what fucking then, JJ?” 

You sounded angrier than you felt. You felt terrified, like an animal trapped in a cage, the walls closing in tighter and tighter around you, suffocating you. 

“We’re not your parents, y/n.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they said the same exact thing when they were our age.” Bitterness laced your every word. Sure, maybe you had been talking about your own parents, but he didn’t have to actually mention them. It just made the sting all the more real. 

Your dad had up and left when you were 12, leaving you with a mother whose heart was broken beyond repair and a 4 year old sister to take care of. You hadn’t believed in love from that day on. And JJ knew this, so why was he throwing it on you now? Why was he putting you through this when he knew damn well what it meant to you? 

“You can’t,” you said, giving your head a shake and praying that the tears wouldn’t fall. “You can’t. Not me.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m fucked up, JJ.”

“Everybody’s fucked up.” 

“I’m especially fucked up.” 

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” There was real anger in his voice, but not anger directed at you. He was angry that the world was so messed up that it had convinced you that you didn’t deserve to be loved. 

And it shook you to the core. 

“I’ve kept my damn mouth shut about this for so long, y/n.” His voice broke painfully. He looked exhausted. You wanted to cross the room and pull him into your arms and wipe the tears from his eyes because if he wasn’t saying the words he was saying now, that’s what you would have done. “Didn’t even tell the Pogues. I kept it to myself because I knew what it meant to you but you’ve gotta know because I can’t do this anymore.” 

“What about all those....all those girls from the parties?” You crossed your arms as your mouth ran dry, grasping for straws. JJ scowled, looking more hurt than ever. 

“They were nothing.” 

“Those girls aren’t nothing, JJ. They’re people.” 

“I meant they were nothing to me. They were just...distractions.” 

“From me?” You said the words like a breath, your stomach twisting as you did so. Because the more JJ spoke about what he was feeling, the more you recognized them as a mirror of your own. 

“Yeah. From you.” You felt yourself fall still again, but it wasn’t that frozen stillness from fear. It was a calm that washed over you and you didn’t know why. “Because every time I saw you sneaking off with one of those guys I just-” 

JJ’s words fell off as you took one small step toward him. As soon as that first step was taken, you couldn’t stop yourself from crossing the room until you were standing right in front of him, chest to chest. 

He looked down at his, his lips parted. Your eyes flitted from his down toward his mouth before venturing back up to meet his stare once again. 

“Maybe....” You paused, glancing down again. “Maybe we aren’t our parents.” 

JJ’s eyes were fixated on your lips, a breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t going to make the first move, you knew that, yet you weren’t sure you had the strength to break what was left of your walls. You wanted him to do it for you, but he wouldn’t want to push you any farther than he already had. 

Your stomach was already tangled into knots even before you stood on your toes. JJ’s eyes were closed even before you pressed your lips to his. Those knots detangled into butterflies and exploded throughout your bones. 

The kiss was a ghost of a thing. At least, it was at first. Because once the dam was breached, the water all came rushing out with a startling force. 

Your hands left your sides and found their place tangled in his hair, pulling him down closer to you. He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as the desire raged within him. 

“Are you sure about this?” He whispered, his eyes opening just a tad. You gave yourself one chance to breathe and second guess yourself. “Because once I have you, there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you go.” 

You pulled one of your hands out of his hair and rested it against his cheek, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. You chewed on the inside of your cheek before giving a short nod of your head. 

“This is what I want,” you told him. “I just want you.” 

That was all the permission that JJ needed. All of his hesitation was gone, vanished into thin air. Tucking his hand behind your neck, he put his lips right back onto yours with a fire that was just waiting to burst forth. 

You thought you had been control when you broke the dam, but JJ took no time in proving you wrong. With one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your hip, he pushed you back toward the wall. 

What little breath remained in your lungs was sucked away as your back hit the wall. Months of tension and deep rooted desire hit a boiling point as your lips found a rhythm with his. Your fingers left his hair to tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. Any space between you was too much. You needed his skin against yours, you needed to take his heat for your own. You needed him and you were no longer afraid to admit it, at least to yourself. 

JJ pinned you to the wall, his hips pressed up against yours. His hand shifted from behind your neck to the front, hanging loosely around the base of your neck just to keep you steady. His other hand found it’s way under the loose fabric of your shirt, kneading at your skin with his palm.  

You let out your first ungodly sound of the night, muffled only by JJ’s lips. You felt him smile so you pulled back. 

“Careful,” you murmured, eyes still closed. But JJ’s grin persisted even as he pressed butterfly kisses against your cheek, trailing past your jaw and finding rest against your neck. 

“Shit,” you breathed as his tongue grazed across your skin, his teeth pulling gently here and there. He started to work his hand farther up your shirt and you had to pressed your hands against the wall to keep yourself from falling. 

“All those other boys didn’t make you feel like this, did they?” JJ whispered against your skin. His breath was warm and sent ripples down your spine. You popped one eye open to glower at him. 

“Fuck you,” you breathed as he smiled against you. His hand at the base of your throat tightened ever so slightly and your glower deepened. 

“Was that a no?” 

“I don’t play that way, Maybank,” you ground out through your teeth. 

“Then how do you play?” 

You pushed him away from you and for a moment a look of hurt crossed his face. But when you grabbed hold of the bottom of your shirt, never breaking eye contact as you pulled it off and discarded it on the floor, a grin replaced that fear. You reached out for him, pulling him back in. 

Both of his hands went for your shoulders before tracing the curve of your body all the way down to the waistband of your shorts. You nipped at his lower lip, tugging gently, you hands holding his head just where you wanted. 

“Damn, y/n.” There was that damn smirk still. You wondered what it would take to wipe it off his face. His hands worked at the zipper of your shorts, tugging on the hem before you even realized he had them unbuttoned. 

“You really don’t waste any time, do you?” You asked him. Instead of responding, he pressed a kiss against your neck. Part of you wished he would stay there again. But then he kissed your collarbone and then he was lowering him self slowly, pressing his lips to the skin beneath your breasts, then just below your bra. 

You were pretty sure no boy had ever done anything like this before. You weren’t ever one to take your time with them because, after all, they were just a poor replacement for who you really wanted. But the attention that JJ gave your body as he continued his trail of kisses down your stomach was enough to make your eyes roll toward the back of your head. 

He was on his knees in front of you, tantalizing, as he pulled your shorts down as slowly as he could. He kissed your thighs once they were exposed as he pulled the shorts the rest of the way down. You were going to simply step out of them when he put on hand on your calf and the other just under your knee. 

“What are you doing?” You asked with an almost nervous laugh. JJ looked up at you as he started to lift your leg. A smile pulled at his lips. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time to have you,” he mused. “And I’m not wasting a second of it. 

He rested your foot against his shoulder and gave the side of your knee the smallest, most butterfly inducing kiss. You heaved out a breath and leaned your head back against the wall as JJ continued to kiss your inner thigh. His hands kept you steady. You had never felt more grounded. Your toes curled, fingers tensing. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, as if it was just a spoken thought. You lifted your head and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

He looked back up at you a look somewhere between concern and amusement. 

“You’re beautiful.”

You moved your leg off of his shoulder and joined him on your knees. For a reason you didn’t know, your eyes swam with tears. His smile was gone but there was something far deeper in his eyes that a smile couldn’t properly communicate in that moment. 

You took his hands in yours and pressed his bruised knuckles to your lips. When you met his eyes again, you gave a small shake of your head, the tears threatening to overflow. 

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” you whispered, trying to offer some kind of explanation for your strange actions. JJ looked taken aback. 

“Bullshit.”

“No, JJ, I’m serious. You’re the first person-” Your voice broke. 

“Is that why you didn’t believe me when I told you I loved you?” Your head fell and the tears you had been feeling started to fall from your eyes. He hooked his finger underneath your chin and moved your face to look back at his. “Hey, you’re beautiful, alright? And I’ll say it a million times until you believe me.” 

You nodded, sniffling as you tried to hide your embarrassing tears from him. He leaned forward and kissed both of you cheeks. You let out a small laugh as he pulled away. 

“Sorry to ruin the mood,” you said, still holding one of his hands. That look returned to JJ’s eyes, the hungry one, as he looked down at the clothes you were left in, or lack thereof. 

“Nothing’s ruined,” he said. “I’m still getting you in that bed.” 

You wiped away what was left of your tears and felt a smile of your own pull at your lips. 

“What are you waiting for then?” 

                                                                ***

Pope grumbled angrily as he climbed into the van, Kie sliding into the front seat. 

“I don’t see why they had to kick us out,” he said, plopping down into one of the seats. 

“I don’t think we were really kicked out, per say,” said John B up front with a slight smirk. “You were the last one in there, Kie, what happened exactly? One minute they’re screaming at each other and the next....” 

Kie shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on the road as she started the car. 

“Guess they just reached their breaking point.” 

“I think that bed is going to reach it’s breaking point,” Pope huffed. “I mean, couldn’t they wait until they were alone to start going at each other?” 

Kie rolled her eyes and John B just laughed. 

“Give it until the morning. I’m sure they’ll pretend like it never happened,” John B said with a sigh. 

“Are you kidding?” Kie looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Those two have been waiting to tear each other’s clothes off for months.”

“Really?” Pope and John B both said at the same time. Kie laughed and looked back to the road. 

“You boys are so clueless.”

“Damn,” Pope breathed. “And they didn’t tell us?”

“He’s afraid of commitment and she’s got abandonment issues, of course they waited this long.” 

“Kie, when did you become a goddamn genius?” 

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.” 

The van rattled down the road, the three friends laughing together. 

                                                           ***

JJ’s arms curled around your stomach, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He slept softly, breathing gently through his nose. Every now and again, he would mumble something, his lips grazing against your exposed skin. 

But you were wide awake. You ran your fingers aimlessly up and down his arms, relishing in the feeling of his skin still against yours. 

He hadn’t stopped telling you you were beautiful since he first said it. Every chance he got, the words would pass his lips. He probably said it more times than anything else, other than “shit” and “fuck”, which you loved to hear almost just as much. Almost. 

When he flopped down next to you, sweaty, breathless, and still grinning like an idiot, he wrapped his arms around you and said it one last time, whispering it into your ear before he fell asleep. 

And you believed him every time. 

If he had been any other boy, this was the time when you would have scurried out of bed, collected your clothes, and made a break for it. But you stayed. There was no where you would rather be than here, cradled in the arms of the boy who loved you. The boy that you loved. 

You moved slowly, carefully, turning until you faced him. JJ groaned quietly, shifting his head against the pillow, but he didn’t wake. You felt yourself smile again at the sight of him. That stupid grin was finally gone from his face. Now you found that you were missing it. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered, your voice quieter than the breeze that blew the curtain of the window above you. You tucked your head under his chin and he pulled you in tighter. A smile graced your lips. 

Even if he didn’t hear you, it was good to say aloud. Maybe now you could say it when he was awake. Maybe someday. Maybe not today, but someday. That thought was enough to sing you to sleep. 

JJ opened a single eye and looked down at you, unable to keep his smile at bay any longer. You had fallen asleep quickly, but he didn’t care. You didn’t need to know he heard you. He would deal with that in the morning. For now, he just let you sleep. 

#jj maybank #jj imagine #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank smut #is it really smut? #idk probably not #but its the closest i'm ever gonna get to #so enjoy it while it lasts i guess #outer banks #obx #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #request #outer banks request #anon

[lumosandnoxwriting]

MADS

MADS

MADS

CONGRATSSSSS ON THE MILESTONEEEE MWAHHH!!!

you deserve this sm :3 !!!!!

could i ask for a ✨ for mmm first time with fred? maybe you could add innocence/corruption kink, if you're comfortable with that? and can i ask for a 🌸 for my fic "never be so kind you forget to be clever"? thank you!!! i absolutely love you so much!!!!

here's a cute lil gif!!!

Jess!! thank you so much, mwah! I’m going to drop your moodboard first and then your headcanon will be under it with a readmore!!

my follower celebration is now over, I’m just finishing up the rest of the asks in my inbox! thank you to everyone who participated!

🌸 - never be so kind you forget to be clever

under the cut there will be NSFW content minors, DNI! (includes sex, fingering, innocence kink, corruption kink!)

✨ - First Time with Fred

When Y/N and Fred first started dating it was no secret that Fred was more experienced than her

Even though they’d been out of Hogwarts for nearly a year when they started dating Y/N still hadn’t gone all the way with anyone

And it’s not that she didn't want to, she just wanted to wait for the right person

Fred had secretly hoped he’d be that person, but he never pushed Y/N into doing anything other than making out and some light petting under their clothes

But every breathy moan she’d let out as Fred massaged her breasts or rubbed her slit through her panties would drive him wild, and the knowledge that he was the one making her feel like that for the first time was enough to get him hard in his trousers

So one evening when they’re laying in Fred’s bed, and Y/N pulls away, looking up at Fred with her big doe eyes, her lips red and puffy from his mouth his cock is already starting to harden before she even asks the question burning the tip of her tongue.

“I’m ready, Freddie. I’m ready to, you know. I wanna, with you.”

Fred’s cock twitches in his trousers and he immediately knows what she’s talking about, but he needs to hear her say it.

“You wanna do what, sweetheart? You gotta tell me, use your words.”

The sight of Y/N’s face heating up as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth turns him on endlessly, and it takes all of Fred’s willpower not to reach down and start palming himself.

“I, I want you to fuck me. Please, Fred. I want you to be the one who takes my flower.”

Fred can’t help but groan and he leans in to kiss Y/N slowly. “of course I can do that for you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, make you feel good.”

Naturally Fred takes the lead, undressing them both slowly, his lips always touching some part of Y/N, only leaving so he can whisper words of praise to her. Telling her what a good girl she is and how beautiful she is.

Once they’re both naked Fred has Y/N lay on her back against the pillows, her legs spread wide as he lays next to her on his side. 

He’d start my slowly trailing a hand down her torso, his lips pressing kisses to her neck and shoulder as he watches goosebumps erupt from his gentle touch.

Fred would be sure to pause at her breasts, letting his hands cup them gently as his thumbs brush over her nipples gingerly.

The noises coming out of her mouth as someone touches her there for the first time drive Fred mad, and he keeps moving his hand down, desperate to touch her sopping cunt for the first time. 

“Alright, love, I’ve gotta get you ready for me okay? Since your pretty little pussy is untouched I’m going to need to stretch it out a bit so I can fit inside of you. Is that alright?”

Y/N nods, whining as Fred’s fingers rub across her slit. “Yes, that's okay Freddie. I trust you.”

Fred starts slowly, just pressing his index finger against Y/N’s slit, slowly moving it through her wet fold and up towards her clit, just lightly circling the sensitive bud. 

“This right here is your clit, sweetheart. Have you ever touched it before?” Fred’s cock twitches when Y/N shakes her head, and he surprises a groan. “It’s very sensitive, and touching it or rubbing it will help you have an orgasm.”

Y/N gasps as Fred starts to rub slow circles on her clit, electric shocks of pleasure radiating through her cunt as her hips bear down onto his touch. “Oh Freddie! I like it, I like it when you touch my clit.”

Fred can’t help but rut against her thigh, and he drags his finger through her folds towards her entrance, wanting to go slow, but also desperately needing to feel her cunt wrapped around him. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m going to put my fingers inside of you now, okay? Let me know if it hurts at all and I’ll stop, okay?”

When Y/N gives Fred the go ahead he slowly slips his first finger inside of her, just slowly moving the digit as she adjusts to having something inside of her. 

Fred opens Y/N up for him slowly, making sure to talk to her the whole time, explaining what he’s doing. When he finally gets two fingers into her he crooks his fingers, and Fred swears he could cum from the noise she made as her g-spot was stimulated for the first time alone. 

Once Fred has three fingers inside of Y/N and she’s rocking back against his hand, begging him for more he feels comfortable enough to move to the next step, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of her, cleaning them off with his tongue before he situates himself between her spread legs. 

“Alright sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah? Been such a good girl for me, helping me get you ready for my cock. I’m gonna go slow, okay? And if at anytime you want me to stop just say Niffler and I will, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N pants, making grabby hands at Fred. She sighs in relief when he grabs her hand and intertwines their fingers, pressing their hands against the bed above her head. “Please, Fred. I need your cock, need you to fuck me.”

Fred pushes into Y/N slowly, watching her face for any signs of pain as he moves. He slides into her inch by inch, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze each time he slips in deeper. After a few minutes Fred is buried inside of Y/N completely, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself from cumming at the feeling of her tight cunt squeezing him. 

“Feels so good, Freddie, please. Need you to move,” Y/N begs as the slight pain she’d felt starts to turn to pleasure. She starts to bear her hips down against Fred, her walls fluttering around his cock. “Feel so full Freddie, love it. Love having you inside of me.”

“Such a dirty girl,” Fred teases as he starts to move his hips, bringing a hand down to rub slow circles on Y/N’s clit. “Where did my innocent angel go? Hm? You learn how to take one cock and suddenly you’re a little whore.”

Y/N moans at Fred’s words as he starts to fuck her a bit quicker, her hips moving in time with his thrusts. She can already feel an orgasm building in her core and she squeezes Fred’s hand. “Please, Freddie. Wanna cum.”

“God sweetheart, I turned you into my little cock whore, didn’t I? You’re gonna want my cock stuffed inside of you all the time now, aren’t you?” Fred groans, picking up the pace of his circles on her clit. 

“Yes, Freddie. Such a dirty girl for you. ‘M your d-dirty little cock whore now.”

Hearing Y/N talk so lewdly and knowing he was the one that brought it out in her pushes Fred over the edge, and Y/N’s name leaves his mouth as he cums, his cock twitching inside of her as pleasure washes over him. 

He keeps thrusting his hips through his orgasm, rubbing harsh circles on Y/N’s clit to help bring her to her own orgasm. 

The feeling of Fred releasing inside of her mixed with the movements of his hand on her clit pushes Y/N over the edge, and her whole body trembles as a cry rips from her throat, feelings of intense pleasure she’s never felt before washing over her. 

Fred carefully pulls out of Y/N as she recovers from her high, leaving her on the bed for a moment to head to the bathroom so he can run a bath for the both of them

He presses kisses all over her face as he carries her into the bathroom, whispering about what a good girl she was for him. 

As they lay in the bath together, Fred rubbing Y/N’s back as she rests against his chest she looks up at him, a small grin on her face. 

“So, when can we do that again?”

#fred weasley #3k event #3k event headcanon #mooties 🦋 #3k event moodboard

[writefightandflightclub]

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies​

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of  the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

#llewyn x reader #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis fic #llewyn angst #llewyn fluff #coen brothers #oscar isaac

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

OOH can we see how Kohga would react to Mipha asking for relationship advice? Since she’d see how devoted and passionate Sooga is for his Master, and not really anyone else in their group is in a relationship soooo

I’m just obsessed with him just adoring Mipha and trying his ass off to get her and Link together it’s so cute

One, thank you for recognizing the fact that Kohga playing Mipha’s wingman is possibly the best idea I’ve EVER had. Two, I am SO ready to start this absolute soft shit. Smut is fun and all, but come on, Kohga trying to hook bitches up is amazing. And third, this got waay out of hand, so enjoy some double dates here.

“So, did you get me something?”

Sooga hardly left Master Kohga’s side. Whenever he had to, be it to lend a hand elsewhere; he had TWO rules to follow; come home to him at the end of the day, and bring him something. Kohga had been sitting here, having tea with Mipha, while Sooga offered to help Sidon hunt for sneaky river snails (Sooga had a real knack for knowing where to find them). They came back with quite the haul, so the fact that he managed to get anything else was nothing to scoff at. He put the large bag of fish down on the floor, and from his pockets, produced a small cage. Inside the cage was what appeared to be a winterwing butterfly. Kohga clapped his hands together, clearly loving it.

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for one of these!”

“I know. It was why I had to stop in the middle of fishing to catch it for you. I may have let Sidon fall in the water in my haste. Maybe.”

Mipha cocked her head to the side upon seeing his reaction to the small bug.

“You like bugs?”

“Just the butterflies. I only keep them for a day or two before I let them go, I just think they’re neat.”

Kohga took a hold of Sooga’s chin, grinning from ear to ear.

“And SOMEONE seemed to remember me saying I wanted this specific one. You’re such a sap, Sooga.”

Sooga was trying (and failing) not to smile.

“I listen to EVERY word you say, master Kohga.”

“Ugh, you’re being mushy again. Get outta my face, go help shark boy with the fish.”

Kohga tried to look mean as he gently pushed his face away, but it was plainly obvious; Kohga loved him. Sooga pardoned himself, hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and walked off with Sidon. Mipha took a sip of her tea, watching as Kohga lightly shook his head. She knew it was a bad emotion to feel, but she couldn’t resist feeling a bit jealous. They were so happy with one another, and yet, her own love and affections were clearly not recognized by the one boy she loved, more than anything. Perhaps…

“Kohga? Can I ask something?”

“Whatever you want.”

Kohga stopped ogling his boyfriend for a second and gave her his attention, snacking on the cookies she made, just for him (shaped in just the cutest seashells). She squirmed a bit in her seat, unsure of how to go about it, before she finally came out with it.

“How...did you get someone to love you, the way Sooga does?”

Kohga stopped eating for a second, looking at her sullen face. This little fish was just sweeter than banana bread, and it hurt poor ol’ Kohga to see her love so much, without Goldilocks even talking about it with her. Sure they were young, and they had forever to talk about this stuff, but there was no time like the present.

“Sooga is a fucking idiot, for one, and I attract idiots. Second, you kinda just. Come out with it. We started off as friends before anything, and that’s now all relationships start. Course, your case is a BIT different from mine. You want my honest opinion? Just shoot your shot. I mean, worst he’s gonna say is no. Or nothing with his mute ass…”

Kohga mumbled that last part, helping himself to another sip of tea. Realizing it didn’t seem to be very helpful, he sighed.

“Or, you could cook him something. Call me old fashioned, but my mama always said the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I make mean salmon skin, look at the hunk I bagged.”

They both turned to look at Sooga, who was busy de shelling the fish alongside Sidon. Mipha pursed her little lips, before softly nodding.

“I...suppose that isn’t a bad idea at all. If I can find the courage in my heart to ask him.”

Just then, Kohga noticed Link walking alongside the princess. Small land, honestly. Kohga put his hands to the side of his face, crying out to Link.

“Yo Goldilocks! Mipha’s cookin’ tonight, you want in?!”

Link nodded, giving a thumbs up. Kohga shrugged.

“See? Easy. You just gotta be straightforward with boys.”

Mipha held her face in her hands, obviously embarrassed.

“But what do I do WHEN I make him something?! What do I say? What do I talk about with him?”

Kohga loved Mipha, really he did, but girl needed to stop seeing boys as a lynel, and more along the lines of wild horses. Something to tame, not to fear. He sighed.

“Tell you what. Me and Sooga will join you, sorta like a double date kinda deal. I’ll be there if the date goes bad, and we can dip when the date is going GOOD.”

Mipha looked up from the table with just the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You...would do that, for me?”

“Course, lil red! You’re like, my favorite in the little team of goody two shoes. Plus, free eats, can’t complain-”

She suddenly got out of her seat, and nearly pounced on him for a hug. The things he did for love.

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

“He here yet?”

“Not quite, but I’m just about done!”

Kohga came back a while later, alongside Sooga. Kohga had his own men helping her in the kitchen, setting up the dining room, everything she could need, Kohga helped with. Kohga scoffed as he put his gift on the dining room table (he’d be remiss if he didn’t bring something to drink for the occasion), lightly pulling up one of her fins, and scoffing.

“Okay, let the boys finish up. Sooga, get to work on this girl, she needs to focus on being as pretty as a fresh stack of banana pancakes.”

Sooga nodded, prompting Mipha to follow him to her bedroom. Kohga was about to see just what she was cooking, before the main doors flew open. Link. Aka, Goldilocks, aka, the guy that never fucking knocked. He was wearing the classic gerudo outfit. A real tits out look, and honestly Kohga would jump on that in a heartbeat.

“Goldilocks! Bit early! How you doing? Mipha will be ready in just a second, take a seat, lemme get you a drink!”

Link nodded. Kohga chatted him up for a minute, serving him a nice glass of banana wine (it’s actually VERY good). When he caught the eyes of Sooga, he pardoned himself and dipped into the hallway. He took one gander at Mipha, and gave a whistle.

“Girl look at YOU! Lookin’ prettier than a pack of opals!”

She really did look like a beauty. Freshly touched lipstick, sharpened nails, her silver jewelry replaced with gold, and instead of her usual blue sash, Sooga somehow managed to find time to make a blue, see through looking dress for her. It fit around her body snugly, but it was a loose, comfortable material, perfect for fashion, and function. Sooga was so talented, getting that together so quickly. Kohga nodded towards Link.

“Go keep him busy, gotta give this girl a pep talk.”

Sooga nodded. Once he left, Kohga carefully put his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me. Lookin? Okay good. You like this guy, so be you. BUT, you need to let him know you’re interested. Be flirty. Touch his hands, compliment him, fucking, feed him from your plate- make it obvious. You’re a princess. He’s a knight, it’s GONNA happen.”

She nodded firmly, shoulder’s straight as a Lynel’s. 

“I can do this!”

She peered over at Link, and immediately hid behind a wall again.

“I can’t do this! He’s wearing the voe armor!”

“For the love of…”

Kohga sighed. Why did he love all these shy bitches?

“Mipha. You’re gonna make HIM drool, not the other way around. Come on, you’ve got this. I’ll be right here, I’ll make you look good as hell. On three. One. Two. Three!”

He carefully pushed her towards the dining room, and Mipha looked ready to have a heart attack. Poor thing.

“Link! It’s so nice to have you over! I hope my invitation wasn’t sudden!”

Link shook his head. Kohga, sensing things were still awkward, jumped in. He was always the fun one at parties.

“Hey, you know what, we should totally start eating! I heard Mipha made quite the spread, Sooga why don’t you help bring the stuff out?”

Sooga nodded, heading into the kitchen. Kohga gestured for all of them to take a seat (with Mipha sitting right next to Link of course), and him just a bit away from them. Close enough to be supportive, but just far enough to beat it if he was cramping their style. Soon enough, trays of food were brought in, and even Kohga had to admit, he was starved.

“Master Kohga?”

“Yes, Sooga?”

“I’m sorry.”

He was about to ask what for, but then he saw it. Fish dish. Fish dish, not a single dish WASN’T fish. And he couldn’t just NOT eat her food, less he make Mipha’s food look awful. Kohga gulped, and Mipha seemed to catch onto his distress.

“Oh Kohga, I’m so sorry, I forgot you didn’t like fish! Please, let me make you-”

“Nope!”

Kohga could feel his ass sweating. He was really gonna sit here and eat fish, because Mipha deserved it. Link looked over at him, clearly just as confused as anyone else. Kohga forced himself to chuckle.

“I mean...I HATE clam chowder. A lot. It’s gross, it’s squishy, it smells AWFUL. Unless it’s Mipha’s. I LOVE Mipha’s clam chowder! She is just. SUCH  a good cook, I could eat a whole bowl!”

Link looked him right in his face, grabbed a bowl, and filled it completely with clam chowder. He slid the bowl over to him, and Kohga wanted to throw up. That yucky, smelly smell of fish. 

“Son of a bitch..I mean, yum! Thank you, Link.”

Mipha just had to like this blonde asshole. Sooga made a motion to grab the bowl, but Kohga halted him. He was going to do this for Mipha. He took a taste of it, and he fought every urge not to puke. Dear god, the smell and the taste was awful. But he forced himself to swallow, smiling.

“See? I l-like it! So it’s GOTTA be good! Mipha is just, so talented!”

Link seemed satisfied, helping himself to a bowl. Mipha looked at Kohga, clearly worried, but he shook his head. 

“Make it up to me by getting some, Mipha.”

He muttered underneath his breath, forcing himself to eat more. Sooga had no problems, this asshole, eating fish like it was nothing. Mipha pretended like she didn’t know anything was wrong, giving her attention towards Link.

“So, Link! You’ve been over at the Gerudo desert, I take it. Urbosa is doing well, I trust?”

Kohga didn’t pay attention to the one sided conversation, too focused on handling the thick creamy broth. His stomach churned, his head hurt, and he was just. Dying. Not even Sooga could help him. He was going to bail, but he saw it in Mipha’s eyes. She was getting more nervous, and this was JUST from watching Link eat. Oh god this was a mess. He forced himself to think past the creamy mush still left in his bowl.

“So, Link, what do you think of Mipha’s new look? Nice right?”

Link looked her up and down, before giving Mipha a thumbs up. Her cheeks exploded in color, and she looked ready to just melt. Kohga tried not to gag at the fish burp he just had.

“And Mipha, thoughts on Link’s outfit?”

Mipha hesitated, letting herself get a look at him, totally not looking at that titty (atta girl), before softly nodding.

“You had it dyed white, it looks very...nice, Link. It really goes with your golden hair.”

Distracted by her thoughts, she played with a strand of his hair, before suddenly realizing what she was doing. They both looked away, buried in blush, just two, dumb, flirty messes. Oh his girl was KILLING IT. Kohga forced himself to gulp down his bowl (somehow not choking on the chunks), nearly gasping as he finished. Oh that was a mistake. That did NOT feel right. Didn’t matter, Mipha was GETTING somewhere with this guy. He whispered to her, nudging at her side.

“Offer him some of your food.”

“But? He has the same thing in-”

“Say yours is different. Just do it, trust me. Sooga! With me, kitchen, now.”

They dipped into the kitchen, and Sooga immediately handed him a bucket. Just in time for Kohga to purge his guts. Sooga patted his back, sighing.

“No one told you to finish the bowl, Kohga.”

“I am SUPPORTIVE, dammit! She deserves-”

Yet another purge of his guts. He groaned, relying heavily on Sooga to keep him upright.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m VERY proud of you. Going through so much for the sake of her happiness. You’re a wonderful person.”

“Sooga, that’s sweet, but dear god I’m throwing up here, shut the fuck up.”

Kohga was three for three, and he was wondering if it was worth it. Then he peered into the dining room. Mipha was spoon feeding him from her bowl, going so far as to scold him for his messy face, and cleaning it with a cloth napkin. It was adorable, it was sweet, and dear god was this worth it. Sooga chuckled, peering down at Kohga.

“You’re incredible, Master Kohga, letting her have this.”

“I AM pretty great, aren’t I?”

They sat there, watching them. For a moment, for a brief, sweet moment, she wasn’t shy. She was honest with herself, she was even just a bit flirty. And Link looked as if he wasn’t clueless. It was so goddamn sweet, it was worth every second of stomach pain. Kinda.

“Oh it’s coming again- he better marry this girl, or I’m starting the war all the fuck over again.”

He was complaining, sure. But he was really, honestly proud of his little Mipha. He’d do this again and again, if it meant getting to see such a sweet, happy smile.

He just prayed he didn’t have to.

#asks #kohga #mipha #sooga #link #listen #i was gonna make this waay longer #i had to cut myself off #because there are SO many double date ideas i can have for them

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series Part 23

Alright, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst and a whoooollllleee lotta whump. It’s Avizon’s backstory time, peeps!

Warnings: Abusive woman, beatings, dislocations, blood, hand whump, guilt for hurting someone/ comparing to an abusive/evil character. 

Master-list Here

Approx WC: 2200

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

When Avizon went downstairs he found Orrien teaching Ihuka how to peel potatoes. He couldn’t help but faintly smile, seeing Ihuka screwing up his face as he concentrated. “Before you say it, I couldn’t sleep so I gave up and started making dinner. Ihuka wanted to help,” Orrien supplied. “He’s doing a good job. We’ve been learning some words and he’s taken quite a shine to Mouse.”

Avizon looked at the metal dragon on Avizon’s ear, which was currently guarding a pea. Avizon smiled, but it wasn’t as forced as he expected it to be. “Horse called Fox and a dragon called Mouse. You’re a creative one, that’s for sure. So, what have we learned then, Ihuka?” “Tay-toe!” Ihuka beamed, showing him the potato he’d finished peeling. “Potato, yes, clever bird,” Avizon chuckled.

“Ummm… knife, pot, bowl,” he pointed to each item. “Fire… hot. d.dangerous?” “Yes, fires are hot and dangerous.” Orrien grinned and pointed to a pan. “And what’s in there?” “Dinner!” he beamed. Orrien and Avizon chuckled. “You’re making quite the chef out of young Ihuka.” Orrien chuckled and collected a bowl of stew for Ihuka. “And I found a way to get him to eat his v-e-g.” “Drowned in gravy and stock?” Avizon guessed. Orrien winked.

It was true, Ihuka would have to start to eat vegetables since he wasn’t getting the greens now he wasn’t in the wild. Avizon wanted to be able to keep him healthy and happy.

Orrien gave him the bowl. “Off with you now, go eat outside.”

“Eat… out...side...” he pointed to the window. “Yes, outside, clever bird.” Ihuka beamed and left. “He’s gone to sit on the step, bless his heart. He’s a good lad, really. It’s nice being able to teach him words.”

Avizon nodded. “I just hope I can undo the damage I’ve done...”

Orrien looked up at him and sighed. “I think you can, with time. He’s bouncing back, but I think he also knows you didn’t mean it. He can see your regret.” “I hope so… I also noticed something… A few days after Ihuka bit me, I began to change. Seeing Blue’s bite, get infected like that… I can’t help but wonder if Ihuka biting me… if it… changed me, helped tilt the scales.”

“Perhaps so.” “And to think that’s what I broke him for...” Avizon mumbled. “All my life I swore I’d never be anything like Halve, but I fear that is what I have become-” Orrien’s mood immediately darkened. “Do not say that name in this home. And you are nothing like that man, or his bitch of a daughter.” Avizon flinched at his sudden change. “I’m sorry. But I almost killed Ihuka, how am I that much better?” “Because you feel guilt. You feel regret. That is why.” Orrien gestured for him to sit and reluctantly, Avizon did so. Orrien sat opposite him.

Avizon sighed. “Is that enough to separate me from that monster?” “Yes. It is. Now please, you need to dismiss those thoughts. You are better than him. Ro loved you, you don’t get to compare yourself to that beast. Where is this coming from, Avizon?”

Avizon found the wooden table beneath him to be the better thing to look at. “I’ve had too much time to think about all the wrong I have done… Seeing how my birds react to me… I… Seeing Blue and Dyan, how they need each other… It has brought up memories. All I can see are the similarities between me and… him.” He looked down at his hand, at the small scar on the top of his hand that the princess had left behind from one of her attacks.

Avizon sighed. “I’m having a difficult day, I suppose.”

“What you went through was by no means easy. You pushed your body to its limit and then so much further. You were lost, yes, but you are also trying to find yourself again, to be better.” Orrien carefully put a hand on his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Avizon shook his head. “I think I’ll go for a ride. You should know, our guest, Tashka, is still in the barn, I believe. He has promised to not attack this place again.”

“Good… How is Blue anyway? Did he wake?” “He cracked open his eyes a little, but I left him with Dyan since Dyan was having a hard time too. He practically asked me to punish him and muzzle him but I refused… He thought I was going to take his other horn when he accidentally snarled at me.” Orrien frowned. “Poor bird… With Blue, we never got around to working past his fear of taking off his collar. But Dyan wasn’t threatened by its removal. Perhaps you could get him a weighed necklace, something he can feel, to reassure him on his more vulnerable days, when he feels like he is doing wrong? It is hard for them to adapt at times.”

Avizon nodded slowly. “I will speak to him when he’s calm and see what we can do. He looked about ready to fall asleep when I left him.” Orrien excused himself from the table. “I’d like to pop my head around the door and make sure everything is well. I was meaning to check on Blue anyway. What he went through…  I shouldn’t be long.” Orrien gestured to the pot. “You should eat.” Avizon nodded but he didn’t hear the words he said. He was lost in thought, staring at his scarred hand. He shuddered with the memories, but Orrien had already left. He didn’t need to see this, he didn’t like to have people see his struggling.

And so his mind wandered, and Avizon couldn’t reel it back in. All he could think about was his time at that cursed castle, the pain he’d endured, to all the events that had led him into darkness, and despair…

Several Years ago...

Avizon groaned as he made his way up the many stairs to get to the top of the tower to see Orrien and have his wounds checked over from the day before. Orrien had healed him well, but he needed to keep a close eye on it. Avizon had been unconscious after one of the princesses 'gifts' had left him too close to death. 

It had been a bad stab wound sent in a fit of rage because Avizon hadn't knelt fast enough with his still healing leg injury from several days prior. Nothing he could do was ever enough for that woman or her father. Every failure brought pain which brought more failure. It was a cycle he couldn't escape from but he was running out of blood to give.

He'd only just gotten to the top, panting for breath, when he came face to face with Princess Eriona. He bit back a whimper and bowed. "Your Highness." "Downstairs, now," she hissed. "You didn't make an appearance yesterday."

Because he was unconscious, but that wasn't an answer he could provide. "Yes, your Highness… my sincerest apologies."

With every day that passed the desire to kill that bitch grew, but he was too terrified to ever act upon such thoughts.

Despite struggling all the way up the stairs, he now had to go back down. He politely invited Eriona to go first, but she slapped the back of his head and shoved him towards the stairs. He struggled to keep his balance as he limped down faster than he wanted to. He blinked away tears and bit back a grimace as the spiking pain increased rapidly.

"Hurry up!"

Despite his pain, he did so, his limp growing worse. He was in so much pain but he just couldn't stop. It wasn’t an option, she was already clearly so mad.

"You had the audacity to get my father involved, getting me into trouble for lowering his 'security'. Like you could do anything! You're worthless, pathetic! And one day once father is dead you'll be mine to hurt as I wish!"

She kicked him in the back of the head before he could string together some sort of reply, sending him down half a dozen stairs before he could catch himself. His stomach flipped when he felt something give in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, holding onto it with a strangled sob. He could only guess it had dislocated. He struggled to get up again with three shaky limbs. He choked back a sob. He was sure he'd opened his stab wound too. He clamped his eyes shut.

"Please, mistress," he whimpered, daring to use the other name she liked him to use when they were alone. "I..."

"Get up!" she spat, grabbing him by the hair and yanking up.

Avizon struggled to his feet and had no choice but to keep walking. His body burned with the pain he was in. He cried out as he hobbled, keeping a hand against the wall for support.

"Cry all you want, coward, you will be punished."

Finally, he made it to the bottom of the stairs, snivelling, whimpering, and shaking. He just couldn't take this anymore. He just couldn't live the rest of his life like this. He yearned for the day he could be free from this, from the pain. Ro always told him he didn’t deserve this, but then why did he always suffer so?

Avizon gulped as she forced him on into a storage cupboard. He knew what to expect, and he could only try to defend himself from the beating he received from her. He tried to protect his shoulder and hold on as best he could as he could until her frustration died down. That was all he was to her, a punching bag, a means of gaining satisfaction from hurting others. He was nothing in her eyes. The king wouldn’t correct her either, he just made sure she didn’t kill him. He curled up in the corner and gradually fell down to the ground with each devastating blow to his already broken body.

He screamed when she got him to the ground and started to kick him in the ribs. He wheezed and curled up until finally, finally, she stopped, panting for breath. She reached up into her hair and Avizon braced in advance, turning his head away. There was a sudden pain in his hand and he cried out. Then there was a yanking sensation, and blood flowed freely. Stabbed with her hairpin. He tried to focus on breathing, to get gulps of air past his frozen lungs and broken ribs. He tried not to stare at his hand.

“Do not ignore me next time I call for you,” she glowered. He lay on the floor, battered, broken, and in so much pain he just simply could not move even if he wanted to. His eyes were dull and unseeing. He barely managed to choke out, “Yes, m.mistress...”

She left him alone, to lay on the floor in agony, out of sight of anyone in the castle. He closed his eyes and waited for unconsciousness, for someone to find him. He didn’t care which anymore. This was the life he had almost always lived, and there would be no escape from it…

He didn’t remember falling unconscious, but he woke to the feeling of warmth on his cheek, a hand, and not just anyone. “Open your eyes, my love, please open your eyes… Oh, by the realms… W.what the fuck has she done to you this time?...”

Avizon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a feeble sob. He forced his eyes open a crack, just enough to see his beautiful green eyes. “R.Ro...”

Ro hushed him gently and kissed his forehead. "I've got you. My father's on his way- stay awake, sweetheart, please stay awake."

Avizon didn't even try to sit up. He couldn't if he wanted to. He was battling with his heavy eyelids, the whispered promise of painlessness. Ro sat down beside him and pulled him into his lap with care. Avizon whimpered as his shoulder moved but he tried to stay quiet for Ro. He wanted the comfort. The pain was so heavy he couldn't breathe.

"Ro?" Orrien called. "In here. I.it's bad," Ro answered.

Avizon saw the tears in his eyes and reached up with a bloody hand to wipe his tears away but thought better of it. His hand was so covered that it would have marked his face. He didn't want to do that to him.

"'m okay," he mumbled instead, even if he felt like anything but.

The first thing Orrien did when he saw him was swear. “She’s getting out of control,” he hissed, kneeling down to assess the injuries. Avizon whimpered and tried to push his hand away from his now clearly bleeding wound. “N.no, master, p.please...”

Orrien gently put his hand on Avizon’s forehead, assessing his temperature. “I’m going to have to inform the king again-”

“No!” Avizon yelped, trying to sit up, but that drew a scream from him. Ro eased him back down as he panted heavily and sweat dripped from his body. “N.no...” “She punished you for it? Dash it all!” Orrien spat, but he quickly dismissed his anger. “Alright… let’s just get you upstairs so I can patch this up. Don’t worry, lad, I’ve got you… sleep.”

#Cloudwalker series #whump #tw:abusive environment #tw:blood #Avizon #Orrien #Ihuka #royal whumper #Avizon didn't have a very nice time with the royals #and that's only going to get worse tbh

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it.  A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due. 

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes. 

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.” 

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality. 

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day. 

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and  trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay. 

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.” 

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten. 

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.” 

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure. 

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.” 

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm. 

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.” 

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare. 

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again. 

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths. 

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-” 

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before. 

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some. 

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference. 

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”

#henry cavill #captain syverson #syverson x ofc #captain syverson fic #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 29

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 8,417

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"What the everliving fuck, Lea?! Why the hell are you naked in our kitchen?!"

Riku's muffled shout had me jerking awake and shooting up in bed, my hand clutching the blanket.

"Er, heh… laundry day?"

Lea's response.

Both voices had come from the other side of my closed bedroom door. I heard a ruckus out there ensue - possibly the sounds of a chase? Wincing at the sunlight pouring in through my window, I glanced towards the clock on my nightstand. Ugh, we'd only gotten to sleep a few short hours ago.

...speaking of…

I lifted my blanket slightly away from me as I looked down at myself.

Yup.

Not a stitch on me.

Not sure what else I could've possibly expected.

My door suddenly burst open and I gasped, hugging my comforter to my chest once more as Lea came barreling in. Okay, at least he wasn't completely naked. He had one of my bed sheets wrapped around his waist. Thankfully. I don't think that my heart could have survived such a visual otherwise at this precise moment.

He leapt into bed with me, sniggering as he hid behind me. Or rather, tried to anyway. My frame was far too small to be concealing such a large man. "Mornin', gorgeous!" he chirped, planting a swift peck to my cheek.

Face heating and groggy brain still trying to catch up, I began, "I- Wha-"

"Why, Lea?! Just… why?!" Riku yelled from the other side of the door, which seemed to have hit a wall and bounced back to almost closing again. It was now just barely open a crack for us to clearly hear my annoyed roommate's voice through it.

"Was trynta scrounge something up for breakfast!" Lea called back. "El was hungry!"

...I was?

My stomach growled.

Oh. Apparently, yes. Yes I was.

...oh gosh, it hadn't been gurgling in my sleep, had it? How embarrassing.

Riku's voice snarled, "You couldn't have put some goddamn pants on first?!"

"It was an emergency! Hadta get some food in the woman, stat!"

There was a loud angry huff from the other side of the door. "Whatever, you just better not have sat on anything out here or I swear…"

It hadn't escaped my notice that Riku hadn't followed Lea in here. Perhaps the implications of Lea barging in first in his current state of undress had not been lost on him and so he was staying out there to preserve my modesty.

Rayne on the other hand…

My door banged open for a second time to reveal her suddenly standing in the threshold, a huge ear-to-ear grin splitting her face in two. "Oh my god, it finally happened!"

Rayne had no such compunctions.

She squealed before running further into the room, holding something up in one hand. "Ahh, I'm so excited! So, so happy for you guys! Oh dear lord, you have no idea how frustrating it's been watching the two of you just dancing around each other this whole time but not bloody doing a damn thing about it! It was driving me up the goddamn wall!" Turns out that thing in her grasp was her phone, or so I came to realize when she shoved it in my face, "But finally! The day we've all been hoping for is here at last! The day you've become," pause for dramatic effect,"...a woman! Halle-freakin-lujah! Do you have any words you'd like to commemorate this momentous event with?"

"Why the phone?" was my oh so moving speech as I scrunched up my face and put my hand to the device, pushing it away.

She beamed and shrugged. "I'm recording this."

"You're what?!" I blanched.

"Yup! To immortalize this historic occasion! Plus, I need video evidence cuz otherwise there is no way Anna will ever believe this. She's gonna flip her-" she suddenly gasped, free hand shooting forward to brush my hair back off my shoulder while getting in close with her phone again. "Holy Jesus H Christ, Lea, what the hell did you do to the woman's throat?!"

I jerked back from her touch, brow furrowing. "My...?" I brought my hand up to brush a finger to my neck. Huh. It was rather sore…

"Dude," she fixed me with a pointed look from the other side of her phone. "It's absolutely covered in hickeys."

"H-?!" I choked on the word, eyes widening and face an inferno.

"Seriously. That thing is more bruise than neck at this point." Rayne leaned in even further with her mobile, fascinated. "Would you lookit that? All the lil ones are coming together to form - dun, dun dun," her voice dropped to intone with deep reverence, "the Mother Hickey!"

I slapped a hand over the spot, trying to cover it up.

She snerked then cackled. "Oh, sweetie. Your hand would have to be the size of an extra large, double stuffed pizza to conceal that monster! Damn, Red, for real… that's a masterpiece!"

Lea gave a sheepish laugh beside me, fingers ruffling his wild bedhead hair. "Guess it is some o' my best work, huh?"

Squeaking, I burrowed into my blankets to hide from the rest of the world.

"Alright, no further comment, show's over now. Riku!" Lea gave a sudden shout. "Come corral your woman!"

I heard a slow creak from my door, then the sound of feet awkwardly shuffling in. "Sorry about-" There was a thud and Riku hissed, "Ow! ...about this, Elsa. I pr-" Whump. "Gah! Promise I'm not-" Bang. "Goddamn it! I'm not-"

"Oh for the love of…" A sigh from Rayne. "Riku! You can remove your hand from your eyes, you goob! She's hiding under the sheets."

"I think I'll keep my hand right where it is, thank you very much!" he grumbled back. He could be heard shambling about for a bit more, peppered here and there by him bumping and crashing into a few more things, before finally, "Ah-ha! There you are!"

"Ack! Riku!" The sounds of what could only be described as a kerfuffle followed. "Put me down, brat!"

"We'll, uh… go get breakfast going and give you two some… privacy," Riku grunted out. Pretty sure I could hear him now literally dragging his wife out of the room. How he managed that one-handed (as I could only assume the other was still being used to shield his eyes), I'll never know. Eventually, mercifully, I heard my door click shut.

Lea gave a soft snort. "So… wanna come out and show me your beautiful face?" he then coaxed gently.

Twitching slightly, I gripped harder at the fabric of the comforter - aka my sanctuary. "Hmm… mm-mm, no, I think I'm good in here, thanks."

There was a brief pause. Then, "Alright. Guess me and my beautiful face are just gonna have to come in there instead." The blankets abruptly lifted, but only just enough for Lea to scooch in next to me under them before tucking them back down around us once more. His shoulders hunched, sheet overhead smooshing his hair down as he shot me a grin. "Hi."

Oh gosh, it was bad enough that he'd been naked before. Now he was naked and close. Not that I could really see anything below the waist - he was still wrapped in sheet down there. Still, even though I couldn't see him in all his nude glory, didn't mean I wasn't one hundred and ten percent fully aware of it and that thought alone was enough to send the blood rushing to my face all over again.

Ugh, calm down, cheeks. You'd think after last night, there'd be nothing left to get so red over.

"Wanna talk about it?" he tipped his head to one side.

"Hm?" I hummed absently, dragging my eyes up to meet his. While the actual goods were currently out of sight, I was still finding just the sight of his bare chest rather, hrm… distracting.

He gave a small shrug, "Whatever it is that's bothering you."

I gnawed on my lower lip and glanced away, clutching the undersheet more tightly to my chest.

...last night had been…

...amazing…

...slow and tender at times, and… heated and passionate at others, as well as, er… how shall I put it... enlightening? Sure, let's go with that. But also, it'd been…

...confusing.

I mean, not in the moment itself, it hadn't been. But now…? Well, it was just… we hadn't really talked about anything beforehand. Frankly, we'd let hormones do all the talking. Hormones were a new experience for me. I'd never even had so much as an inkling of a single solitary hormone ever before and last night I'd been struck by a whole raging tsunami of the damn things. Who knew they could be so, er… persuasive. It'd been all too easy to get swept up in the torrent. But now that the storm had died down, now that morning was here and I could think more clearly, I…

Well, I didn't regret it. No, not one bit. But… I guess I just had questions. Like where did this leave Lea and me? I hadn't forgotten the little detail that he'd never really been the relationship type before, and I had no real solid reason to believe that that was about to change just for me. And what about his whole "no girls until graduation" rule? Just what had this been for him then? A temporary lapse in judgement? A moment of weakness? Yeesh, I didn't want to be one of those girls who got all, "What does this mean?" after they sleep with a guy, but…

You know what? No, there was nothing wrong with being one of those girls. Those girls were valid. Those girls had a right to know and so did I, damn it! I deserved to know if this had actually meant something to him or if I'd just been a… another notch on the headboard or… or if he'd just been sowing his wild oats or-

"Oh gosh, was I just an oat to you?!" I suddenly blurted out, snatching the comforter down off my head with a huff.

"Uh…" Lea fought with the blanket a bit himself before his top half broke free to join me out here, blinking at me owlishly. "...no?" he tried, his guyliner-smudged eyes squinting uncertainly.

Right. Good job, mouth. Way to make me sound like a total crackpot.

Inhaling deeply through my nose and then puffing out a slow breath, I gave it another go. "...was last night just a…" The blush returned as I struggled for the right words. "...a one night stand?"

His shoulders stiffened as his head rocked back. "What?! No. God no! El, I-" his hand was reaching for me, but it stopped just short of my arm. He frowned, pulling it back to instead rub over his mouth then drag along the nape of his neck with a sigh. "Shit, we're always doing things so backwards, aren't we? Kissing before we'd even so much as said our first hello to each other… Going steady before we'd even been on a single date… Now hopping into bed together before taking a minute to tell each other how we really…" he trailed off with another sigh, leaving the thought unfinished.

I remained silent, just looking down as I drew my blanketed knees up, hugging them to my chest.

Lea shifted around so he was instead facing me now, clasping his own sheet to keep it firmly wrapped around his waist. Pulling one knee up himself, he propped an elbow atop it as he bent forward to my eye-level. "Do you remember the story I told about how we met?"

My eyes blinked. "You mean the plot of Before Sunrise?"

Grinning softly now, he said, "If you'll recall, that movie starts on the train. But that's not where the story I told began."

A crease formed between my eyebrows. "No, it started with the lantern festival."

"That's right," he nodded. "...I was there, El. I was really there, same time as you."

My spine snapped straight as I inhaled, small and sharp. "You were?"

"Yup! Everything… seeing you there, the lanterns going up, even the bit about me faceplanting into a lamppost… all of it, and I do mean all of it, was true."

I gaped slightly before shaking my head slowly. "But… you said you'd never seen the lantern show."

"I haven't. Oh sure, I was there, but I was too busy watching you instead," he chuckled, tapping me on the nose.

There was a small flutter inside my ribcage. Still, I frowned. "But… but I was the one who said the city we met in was Corona."

He snorted, scratching a spot behind his ear, "Yeah, and I was floored when ya did. Thought for a sec that maybe you actually had noticed me at the festival. But nope, turned out to just be a lucky shot in the dark!" Lea laughed, then paused with a wistful smile. "...obviously in the real story, I didn't end up following you onto that train, but shit, you dunno how bad I wanted to. But I'd just sworn off girls to focus on college only the day before, and I didn't wanna be so weak as to go tossing that out the window less than twenty-four hours in." His lips then pursed to one side, eyes downcast. "In a way, maybe it was for the best. I don't think the time was right for either of us yet. I… wouldn't have been ready to be the person you needed me to be."

I didn't know what to say to that. Even if I did, I'm not sure if I would have been able to get any words out past the tightening in my throat. So instead, I just settled for reaching for his hand.

Flashing me a grin, he brought it up so he could press his lips lightly to my knuckles before going on, "But man, did I regret letting you get away without even so much as talking to you. Was kicking myself ever since, thinking I'd never see you again." His eyes crinkled as he leaned in closer now, "So imagine my shock 'bout a year later when I spot a very cute, very familiar new girl working the ice cream counter across the food court from me. It'd seemed fate had decided to give me a second chance with the divine creature from the lantern festival. I just hadta meet her."

One corner of my mouth tugged up, "What about your dating hiatus?"

"Hey now, I was just trying to get to know you! You were the one who kissed me first, remember?" his lips twisted into a smirk and I rolled my eyes, feeling heat creeping up the back of my neck. His gaze turned serious however. "...women have always kinda been a weakness for me. I'd practically made a career out of skirt chasing. Whenever it came down to making a choice between the ladies and getting my shit together, I picked ladies every time. But when I finally decided, and I mean really decided to buckle down, I cut that part of my life out completely. I thought it would be hard, but it actually really wasn't. Turns out they'd just been a bad habit I hadta kick. Having them around had been a distraction.

"But when it came to you…" his eyes softened as he reached for a lock of my hair to fiddle with. "The more I got to know you, it… The distraction was… not having you around. I couldn't concentrate on anything else… not school, not work... I was thinking about you all the time. Couldn't get you outta my head. Not for a damn second."

"Lea…" my hand came up of its own accord to brush along his cheek.

He covered it with his own, turning his head slightly to kiss my palm. "...you know with crushes, or love at first sight, or whatever the hell you wanna call it… they say you're not really falling for the person, but rather just the idea of them. That you're just building 'em up in your head, putting 'em on a pedestal… but that when you actually finally do get to know the person, it'll be a letdown. That they won't turn out to be who you wanted them to be." Pressing our foreheads together now, he nuzzled the tip of his nose to mine, "But you turned out to be so much better than I ever coulda imagined."

I scoffed, face burning as I muttered, "Sounds like someone's been watching too many of those cornball movies."

"I mean it, so shush, you," he chided, biting back a grin. Then he was shifting a little closer to me. "What I'm trying to tell ya is that you're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere. I'm yours, if you'll have me. I am all in."

My breath hitched as I stared into those stunning green eyes of his. I hesitated for a second, my thumb idly stroking along where he still had my hand clasped to his cheek. Then I bent forward, giving him a gentle kiss. "...I'm all in too."

"Yeah?" he murmured, grin twitching wider. "So how 'bout it then? Can I be your boyfriend for real this time?"

I hummed a soft laugh, nodding. "I'd like that very much."

"Good." Lea curled a finger under my chin, pressing his lips soundly to mine. Then he used his hold on my chin to carefully turn my head to one side, eyes half-lidded as he got a closer look at, er, heh… at the Mother Hickey. "Hmm, I really did do a number on this side of your neck, huh? Gotta a bit carried away." He planted a quick peck to the tender skin there, making it tingle pleasantly. Then he was sweeping my hair forward over that shoulder and turning my head the other way, tsking, "While this side," a kiss to said side, "is looking rather neglected. You're rather lopsided here and we can't have that, now can we?"

"No?" I breathed, shivering as I felt his lips graze over my skin, my hand drifting down to trail along his chest.

"Mm-mm. Why don't we see what we can do here to correct this oversight," he said, voice low as he began nibbling at my throat. I could feel him hooking a finger into where I had the blanket hugged to my torso, giving it a gentle tug and-

My door abruptly flew open for the third time. "Elsa! I need to talk to-" Anna - that's right, Anna - gasped from where she stood in the doorway now, slapping a hand over her eyes. Lea and I jerked apart, me clutching the comforter more fiercely to my body than ever. My sister parted her fingers for a peek, then snapped them back closed with a giggle. "Oo la la! You two really go the extra mile to sell this girlfriend-boyfriend act! You do remember calling the whole thing off yesterday though, right?"

Lea hung his head and sighed heavily while I scooted off the bed with an annoyed little growl. Keeping the blanket firmly wrapped around me like a misshapen, makeshift dress, I narrowed my eyes and marched over to her. "What are you doing here, Anna? Why didn't you just call?"

"Your phone's been-"

I snatched her hand down from where it was still covering her eyes, since I refused to hold a conversation with her while she looked so silly. She blinked a couple times before a tiny laugh bubbled out of her, "Oh hi!" I merely drooped my eyelids at her and she cleared her throat, expression hardening. "Your phone's been going straight to voicemail and this couldn't wait!"

That's right. My phone was still dead and I never got around to charging it last night. I'd been a little otherwise, ahem… preoccupied.

I pinched the bridge of my nose with an irritated huff. I didn't want to deal with this right now. Taking hold of Anna's shoulder, I spun her around and pushed her back towards my door, "Fine, then just... try calling me again later."

"What?! No, wait!" Her hands flew out to grab either side of the doorframe and she dug in her heels, bringing us both to a lurching stop. "Sis, I really, really need to talk to you!"

"Well I don't want to talk to you!" I snapped back, pressing my shoulder into her back and putting my full weight into trying to get her moving again. No dice. She wouldn't budge.

"Elsa, please!" she whirled around to face me once more, unleashing the full might of her devastating pout on me.

Fudge. I'd never been able to say no to those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes of hers.

I puffed out a small breath with a scowl. Then I grumbled, "Fine. Just give me a minute to get-"

Dressed.

That's the word I'd been about to say.

However, Anna's excited squeal cut me off and she grabbed my elbow, yanking me along with her as she ran out into the living room. I tried to resist, making a desperate grab for my doorknob but only succeeded in slamming the door shut behind me before it slipped free of my grip. Before I knew it, Hurricane Anna had plonked me down on one of the living room sofas with her flumping down beside me.

"Ugh, not you too," came Riku's groan from the kitchen.

Glancing over, I saw him standing next to a pan sizzling on a stove burner, one of his hands holding a large spatula while the other blurred up to clasp over his eyes. Rayne sniggered at him as she pulled something out of the fridge.

"Hey, I tried to change," I shot back before turning my accusatory gaze on my sister. She merely beamed and shrugged in response. Rolling my eyes, I primly adjusted my blanket-dress with as much dignity as I could muster to ensure I remained one hundred percent PG. My other hand went to my hair, which was still gathered forward over one shoulder, thankfully covering the Mother Hickey.

No need for Anna to spot that, thank you very much.

"Come on, hon, let's get you somewhere where you're free to see," Rayne snorted, relieving him of the spatula and taking his hand in hers so she could start guiding him towards their bedroom.

I shot Anna a dull stare now, waiting with a frown.

Her cue to begin.

"Alright, first of all, we're going to have to come back to that later," she waved a hand towards my bedroom door. "Because okay, wow!"

"I know, right?" Rayne chimed in with a laugh, not having quite reached her room yet. I fixed her with an unamused look and she winced. "Sorry," she whispered, returning all her focus on getting her temporarily blinded husband out of there.

Once they'd disappeared through their door, Anna sat up a little straighter, squared her shoulders, and tugged at her skirt, straightening out its wrinkles. Then she took a deep breath, "Right. Okay, where to begin… well, for starters, I did not - you hear me? Not," she reiterated, striking up a finger for emphasis, "suggest the whole you and Lea thing just to keep Mom and Dad from getting mad about the whole Hans and me thing."

I gave her a flat look, quirking a dubious eyebrow.

"I didn't! I swear I didn't! My actual reasons were threefold. Count 'em, three," she held up the matching number of fingers, wiggling them slightly. Then she ticked off the first one, "A, as I brought up yesterday, I figured having him backing you up would give you the courage to face Mom and Dad. B, I thought that big, scary, redheaded ox of a man would make Mom and Dad think twice before still trying to tell you what to do. Which, in hindsight, kinda backfired… but hey, was worth a shot at least, right?" she gave a nervous chuckle.

I did not laugh with her.

She cleared her throat and hastily pressed on, "And C, it was so obvious that you and Lea had the total friggin' mega hots for each other, so I thought I might play cupid and help that along a lil." Her eyes darted to my bedroom door again before she leaned in closer, waggling her eyebrows, "You're welcome, by the way."

Now I full on glowered at her.

Sense the tone, brat.

She gulped, pulling back again, eyes darting about as she fidgeted with her fingers. Then she huffed, "And fine, okay sure, did I realize you two playing lovebirds in front of Mom and Dad might keep some of the heat off of me and Hans? Yes, but that was more of a… an afterthought! Ya know, like… a nice lil perk on the side. Was it a perk I should have taken advantage of? No. Should I have figured out a different weekend to drop the Hans-bomb? Maybe. But-"

"Sorry, sorry!" Rayne suddenly popped back into the room, sneaking past us towards the kitchen. "Just don't want the bacon to burn. Pretend I'm not here."

Returning my attention to Anna, I saw her frowning, deep in thought and possibly trying to think up a different tactic here. Then she was opening her mouth again, "Look, Sis... he and I didn't mean for this to happen-"

I scoffed, "You said that already yesterday."

"No, let me finish! We didn't mean for it to happen, but it did and nothing can change that now. And you know what? I wouldn't want to change that. I am not sorry." I looked at her sharply and she swiftly amended, "I am sorry if it hurt you. So, so sorry, you have no idea! But I'm not sorry that it happened. You have to understand, he and I… Elsa, it's nothing like I've ever known before! It… it's like fireworks! It's amazing and magical and-"

"He who?" Rayne was suddenly next to us in the living room, making me jerk in surprise.

Jeez, I hadn't even heard her leave the kitchen!

Hand covering my rapid, startled heartbeat, I told her, "Hans. My ex."

"Oh…" the corners of her mouth turned down. Then a blink and a louder, "Oh!" Followed by her eyes narrowing on my sister with a disapproving, "Anna!"

"Fireworks, Ray-Ray! Fireworks!" she snapped back in her defense.

Shaking her head, Rayne directed my attention to what she was holding in her hands - a small bowl of mixed, sliced fruit. "To tide you over until the rest of the food is ready," she explained, depositing it onto the coffee table before making her way back over to the stove.

I stared blankly at the little snack, as if not quite sure what to do with it. Then my stomach gave another growl to remind me.

Oh yeah. That.

"The point," Anna steadfastly insisted, "is that we both know you didn't love him. But I-"

A derisive snort escaped me as I started poking through the fruit. "That is so not the point and you know it."

Her face pinched in annoyance and she spat out, "But I do!"

Snagging a grape, my brow furrowed. "...do what?"

"Love him!"

My eyes widened briefly, then I shot her a dull stare. "...you can't love a man you've just been dating a few weeks."

"And why not?" she glared at me as I popped the grape into my mouth. "You and Lea have been only pretending to date for a few weeks and you're in love with him!"

Cue choking on said grape.

Blasted things are hazardous to your health!

Face roasting as I banged a fist to my chest to dislodge the damn thing and let blessed oxygen back in again, I wheezed, "I'm not- We're not- I mean, it's just-"

"Oh please!" she rolled her eyes. "It's you, Elsa. You. You're the very definition of ice queen. You don't just go around having crazy wild monkey sex-"

"Oh my god, Anna!" I buried my face in my hands.

"Don't oh-my-god-Anna me! It's true! You don't! You never do this! So the only obvious conclusion is that you-"

I clamped a hand over her mouth, fixing her with a tiny scowl. Then I said calmly and evenly, "One, it is not the only conclusion. And two, this isn't about Lea and me. This is about you and Hans." I slowly started to lower my hand but when I saw her sucking in breath to go off once more, I quickly gagged her again. Then I shot her a warning look, silently demanding that she zip it. Her eyelids drooped and I took that as reluctant consent. Taking my hand back now, I looked to the bowl of fruit once more. Hm… maybe a banana slice? Yeah, that seemed less likely to murder me. Bending forward to reach for it, I went on, "Now I know you might think you two are in love, but-"

She abruptly gasped, "Holy friggin' cow, what's that?!"

Suppressing a groan at being interrupted, I grumbled, "What's what?"

"That! On your neck!" With a start, I realized some of my hair had slipped back behind me, no longer concealing the Mother Hickey. The monstrosity had broken loose to wreak its unholy havoc. Anna gaped in pure awe, "Damn, Sis, what was that boy trying to do to you? Draw blood, the friggin' vampire?"

"She liked it!" came Lea's voice suddenly as he exited my bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a smug grin.

Cheeks bursting into flames, I grabbed a raspberry to chuck at him for oversharing.

He caught it easily and sniggered. "Thanks, babe!" he chirped, tossing it up into the air before catching it in his mouth.

Then I looked at him. Really looked at him and came to a realization.

That jerk now had clothes on.

"Hey, no fair! How come he got to get dressed and I didn't?!" I snapped, hand balling more tightly into my blanket-dress in my continued effort to keep the thing together and in place.

Anna whined in frustration, "Sis, focus! We're talking about something important here!"

Says the girl who just got sidetracked by the Mother Hickey.

"Okay, maybe Hans and I haven't been dating for long," she began as out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lea poking about the living room in various places, searching for something. "But just like you, I grew up with him. We've known each other all our lives. I know him, Elsa. Really, really know him." At last he seemed to spot it - his leather jacket, which he snatched up now from wherever he'd tossed it last night. He came over to me and draped it around my shoulders, ducking down to brush a peck to my temple as he did so. "Know him and… and care about him. I actually feel like this has been a long time coming, Sis. That he and I were just meant to be. It's the kind of stuff that cheesy romcom flicks are made of, what everyone's singing about in all those sappy songs. Ya know… true love."

"Come on, Anna," I sighed as I tugged Lea's jacket closer, grateful for the added bit of coverage. Thumb idly running up and down the metal teeth of the zipper, I muttered, "Thought you outgrew fairytales a long time ago."

"What's with the shit-eating grin?" I heard Rayne asking Lea as he moved to join her in the kitchen.

He shrugged, plopping down into one of the dining chairs, "You'd have one too if El had just agreed to be your girlfriend."

"Oof, point taken."

"Fairytale or no, I love him," Anna said, drawing my focus back to her. "And he loves me! And I'm sorry that we went about it in the way wrong way and hurt you in the process. I really, truly am! But what's done is done. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness so soon, but I'm asking… hoping, really, that you'll still give it… because I need you right now, Elsa."

She reached out for my hand, squeezing it as her face fell as she momentarily paused. Then, "I need my big sis. Hans' parents… they're furious about all this. They didn't want their son with the second Fryse daughter, they wanted you. They're blowing a friggin' gasket, which is making Mom and Dad blow their own stupid gaskets too. Which is whatever, fine, I can take it… but not if you're mad at me too." She sniffled, eyes downcast and bottom lip quivering. "...I could really use you in my corner right now, Sis. Please."

I frowned at her, eyebrows knitting together and not saying anything right away. Then, "...you two… really love each other?"

"Oh my god, so much," she gave a weak wobble of a laugh, fingers swiping at the corner of her eye. "I love him with all of my heart and I know he feels the same way about me too."

I inhaled and exhaled softly. Then I covered her hand with mine. "Fine. I forgive you. And I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Really?!" Anna cried out. I nodded and she broke out into a huge grin, eyes welling up even further to the point where tears escaped. Then she was tackling me in a hug that knocked the wind out of me. "Oh thank you, thank you! You're the bestest, most amazing, most beautiful big sis ever!"

Who was I to stand in the way of love?

True love, no less. Apparently.

As she pulled away, she was now a blubbering mess and I had to stifle a snort. She'd always been such an endearingly ugly cryer. Jamming the heel of her palm to her nose in an attempt to dam the flow of snot, she asked, "Can I take a minute or two to clean myself up in your bathroom?"

I gestured a hand towards the restroom door and she got up, starting to make her way over to it. "Anna," I said abruptly and she stopped in her tracks, glancing back over her shoulder at me. I hesitated briefly, gnawing on my lower lip and almost losing my nerve. But then finally I began, "Would you… that is, later, would you maybe like to…" my lips clamped shut. Oh gosh, I was getting so awkward over such a silly little question. Taking a steadying breath, I then braved a tiny smile for her, "...do you want to make some scotcheroos?"

...would she even remember?

She blinked. "You mean… as in like when we were…?" Then it seemed to click and her face did this funny thing were it both lit up and brimmed over with even more tears. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that very much! I… Just gimme a sec, I'll be right back!" Then she hastily disappeared into the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind her.

I jolted in surprise as Lea suddenly one-hand vaulted himself over the back of the couch, quick to take the seat next to me that Anna had just vacated. He gave me a toothy grin as he slung an arm around my shoulders, tugging me closer to him.

...okay, this was going to take some getting used to.

A couple weeks of fake dating had in no way prepared me for the real thing.

However, as I felt him pressing his lips to the top of my head and nuzzling his nose into my hair as he did so, I relaxed a bit into his side.

I might... enjoy getting used to this.

Now if only everything else could be so simple. In particular, my family-

"Oh gosh, my family!" I suddenly stiffened.

"Hm?" his hand rubbed up and down my arm outside the jacket. "What about them?"

I groaned, "I just finished telling them yesterday that you and I weren't dating. Now we have to tell them that we are."

Lea squinted up at the ceiling, pursing his lips to the left. "...do we though?"

"Yes! I mean, maybe not right now, but eventually."

His free hand came up to scratch the tip of his nose, then he smiled down at me. "Hey, lookit the bright side though. Now we don't have to explain any of this craziness to the mall or tell 'em we broke up or anything like that."

I fixed him with a deadpan look. "Not helping."

"Doesn't it though?"

I narrowed my eyes up at him. Then I relented with a small huff, "...okay, maybe a little."

"Can I come out yet?" came Riku's rather pathetic call from his bedroom.

"Not yet, she's still naked!" Rayne shouted back as she used her spatula to shift the eggs frying in the pan. In response, Riku made an annoyed noise that was half growl, half moan.

Reaching for a blueberry now, I asked her over my shoulder, "Hey, were you two out all night?"

"Mm-hm!" she hummed back chipperly.

"They were just walking through the front door when they happened upon me in the kitchen in nothing but the bed sheet," Lea supplied, biting into a strawberry.

Glancing her way, I cocked my head. "Where were you guys?"

"Riku surprised me with a romantic weekend getaway!" Rayne beamed, opening the fridge back up. "Speaking of, I noticed as I was dropping my bag off in the bedroom this morning that our room seemed to be a bit, er… tossed about." She wrinkled her nose, "I seriously doubt it, but you two didn't… you know... in there, right?"

My cheeks flared up. "Oh god, no! That was, um…" I cleared my throat, my fingers fiddling with the zipper clasp on the leather jacket, "...Lea was just looking for, uh… for protection."

Rayne glanced at him, eyelids drooping. "And you weren't packing any of that already, stud?"

His fingers ruffled his hair with a chuckle, "Stopped carrying anything like that on me a year ago when I called it quits with the ladies. Didn't want any excuses to give into temptation."

"Ah," she shook her head, stepping back over to the frying pan. Then her shoulders tensed and her head snapped up as a thought suddenly seemed to strike her. "Heh… you, er… didn't happen to find the, uh…"

"Pumpkin spice flavored condoms?" I said dryly and she twitched. "Yes, we did. And Rayne? You have a problem."

I felt Lea's whole body rumble with a laugh, "Yeah seriously, Raindrop, what the actual fuck?"

Turning several shades of deeper and deeper red, her eyes flicked nervously about. "S-someone gave them to me as a gag gift, I swear!" Yeah, wasn't buying it. Didn't help that Lea had found the box already opened. "You, uh… you two didn't actually… use those, right?"

"Heh… needs must when the Devil drives!" Lea snerked as I facepalmed.

Rayne silently squirmed where she stood for an uncomfortable moment as she poked the spatula at the eggs some more. Then, "...let's never speak of this again."

"Agreed," I gave a single, firm nod. Then I was standing up, slipping out of Lea's jacket and leaving it behind on the couch as I started heading towards my bedroom. "And on that awkward note, I think I'll go put clothes on."

"Lemme help ya!" Lea grinned, hopping up to his feet behind me. However, he didn't get very far.

"Ah-ah!" Rayne was suddenly beside him, snagging him by the ear. He gave a pained hiss through grit teeth as she yanked on it, forcing him to hunch down to her height so she could glare at him. "Getting clothes on that girl is the absolute furthest thing from your mind, bucko."

He clasped a hand to his chest in mock offense. "You insult me, madame! I promise I had only the purest, most honorable of intentions!" She stared at him blankly before pinching his earlobe harder, forcing a tiny yelp out of him. "Okay fine, my intentions may of been hovering, teetering towards the slightly dishonorable."

She sighed, "Need I remind you that that room is a future baby nursery?"

"And oh if those walls could talk, the stories they would tell your future bouncing bundle of joy."

Rayne scoffed, dragging him by the ear back towards the kitchen with him grunting the whole way. Shoving him down into one of the dining chairs, she snapped, "Now sit your ass down here and if you even think about taking so much as one step closer to her bedroom door, I'm gonna neuter you with this thing," she poked him in the nose with her spatula. "Capisce, loverboy?"

He held his hands up in surrender, "Capisce!"

I'd almost made it to my room when my stomach gurgled again. I swiftly made a u-turn and went back for the bowl of fruit, picking it up and carrying it back with me. For the road! As I ate a kiwi slice, Riku called out again, "Now can I come out?"

"Almost, Hon! She's heading for her door now," Rayne yelled back as she started taking plates out of the overhead cupboard, still maintaining a wary eye on Lea the whole time.

"Finally!"

However, I was only halfway across the living room when abruptly there was loud, frantic banging on the front door, nearly making me drop the whole bowl.

Ugh, now what?

"Elsa! Are you in there?" called a voice from the other side. A voice that made me stop dead in my tracks and whip around, wide eyed and cheeks bulging with fruit. More thunderous knocking. "Please answer the door, I have to see you!"

That… sounded like…

"...Hans?" I squeaked after choking my food down.

What on earth was he doing here?!

Lea's whole body went rigid as he quickly looked from me to the source of the hammering. Both eyebrows shot up Rayne's forehead. Then she was turning off the stove burner and wiping her hands on her blue plaid shorts as she made her way over to the door. She unlocked it and opened it a crack, politely but cautiously asking, "Hi, can I help y-"

Hans was suddenly shoving his way inside, pushing past her and shouting, "Elsa, where are you? We have to-" His eyes landed on me and he froze. Then determination seared across his eyes and he was marching towards me, "Elsa, I need to talk to you!"

I'd been hearing that an awful lot this morning.

I blinked, taking a step back and shaking my head, "Hans, what are you-"

That's when he finished closing the distance between us, grabbed me by the shoulders and brought his lips crashing down onto me. This time, I did drop the bowl, sending mixed fruit tumbling everywhere across the carpet. Rayne and Lea gawked at us.

I- Wha- Th- Huh-

Just what...

...the actual hell...

...was up with this friggin' morning?!

I mean, come on! More had happened to me in the past thirty minutes than usually happens to me on any normal given week!

And all while I was still wearing nothing but a stupid bedsheet, for crying out loud!

It took a split second for the shock to wear off, then I was scrabbling to wedge my arms between us, shoving him away and furiously scrubbing my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Oh hell fucking no!" Lea was on his feet in a heartbeat, green eyes flashing dangerously and face twisted into a snarl.

However Rayne stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Cool your jets, Red, and shush!"

"But-" he spluttered, apparently too outraged for words. Instead he settled for gesturing both hands angrily towards Hans with a growling huff. Rayne just struck up a warning finger at him.

Fingers abusing the fabric of my comforter as I clutched it to me desperately now, I frowned, "Hans, what is this? Why are you here? How did you even know where I live?"

His brow furrowed and he stepped closer as I hastily took another step back. "I asked your parents and they had Gerda give me the address. But that's not what's important right now. What's important is I want you back!"

Um… excuse me?!

Riku's voice once more came calling from beyond his bedroom door, "What's going on out there? Who's here?"

"Shush!" Rayne snapped back, eyes wide and unblinking so as not to miss a single second of the little soap opera now unfolding in her living room. "Things. Just. Got. Interesting!"

"But-" Riku tried again.

"I said shush, damnit!"

I just stared at Hans, jaw hanging open in disbelief. "...I'm sorry, you what?"

I must've misheard. Yeah, that had to be. It'd be the only thing that'd make any sense and-

"I want you back."

Nope. Heard him right the first time.

"Elsa, sweetheart, we were good together, right? I mean, we weren't perfect, but what couple is? We had a nice thing going though, didn't we? We belong together," he was saying now, his words soft and soothing as he started to reach for me once more.

I swatted his hands away and walked past him, away from him. Unfortunately he moved to follow, pursuing me around the room. "Hans, did you forget I left you at the altar?"

"And I'm willing to look past that!" He grabbed my elbow, making me stop and face him once more. "If I can put that behind us, then you should be able to too. Think about it, sweetheart. Things could go back to the way they were with us. We were happy, weren't we? We made sense!"

"But I don't want to marry you!" I snapped, jerking my arm free of his grasp.

How was he not getting this? Just… how?

He brought up hands in a placating gesture, "And that's fine, we don't have to get married! Not right away, anyway! It was too soon and you weren't ready, I understand that now. Getting married is not the important part. What matters is that we're together. I still care about you and after yesterday, I know that you still care about me too."

"...after yesterday?" Huh? I glared down at my crossed arms, thoroughly confused now. "...what about yesterday gave you that idea?"

"That whole little speech you gave your parents," Hans stated, as if it were obvious. "I could tell how sad and full of regret you were. Regret over breaking things off with me." Uh… what now? "I could tell you wanted me back, that you went through this whole ruse to pretend like you were okay about the way things ended between us, but you really weren't." I wasn't? That was certainly news to me. "I know you're worried you could never earn my trust back, but it's okay, sweetheart. I forgive you." ...gee, thanks? "I want you back. I need you back." He was reaching for me again, this time for my hand, "Please, if we can just-"

I wrenched my hand back, "Why are you saying all of this? You've never talked like this before. Why are you-" I inhaled sharply, suddenly hit with a thought. "...this isn't you… this is your parents talking through you, isn't it? What'd they do? Threaten to cut you off? Oh Hans, you can't just let them-"

"This isn't about them or anything they may or may not have threatened me with!" Translation: yes. Yes it was. "This is about us! This is-" His words abruptly stopped as he blinked, eyeing me up and down. "...are you wearing nothing but a blanket right now?"

Was Mr Perceptive just now realizing this?

Also, kill me. Kill me now.

"And what did you do to your neck?" he squinted, brushing my hair back off my shoulder.

And the cursed Mother Hickey strikes again!

Swear to god, I was going to friggin' kill Lea for giving me the dumb thing!

Hans gave himself a shake, face hardening. "Doesn't matter! What matters is," he snatched up both my hands now, clasping them together between his, "I love you, Elsa!"

...what was this day even?! I mean, seriously! I had absolutely zero clue what was even happening anymore!

However, his words sent a shock of a reminder through my system and my eyes darted over to the bathroom door, which Hans currently had his back to. Still closed. Still with Anna in there. What with the whirlwind the past five minutes had been, I'd all but forgotten she was still here. Oh gosh, could she hear all this?

Licking my dry lips, my gaze returned to Hans and I weakly shook my head. "You… you don't mean that. What about you and Anna? I thought you two were-"

"A mistake," he said firmly, his grasp around my hands tightening. "That's what we were. A mistake. You have to understand, sweetheart, I was… was hurt. And weak. I did something I'm not proud of. But it meant nothing to me, understand? Absolutely nothing! It's you, Elsa. It's always been you. You're the only woman for me."

"But Hans, she loves you!" I argued, wrestling my hands free of his. I could see the bathroom door behind him slowly beginning to creak open now.

He gave a derisive snort. "No she doesn't! She's just naive and thinks she does. Trust me, Anna will be fine. She'll get over it. Anyway, forget about her. The only thing I want to talk about right now is you and me."

My sister stood in the doorway, expression unreadable as she just stared silently at Hans' back. Oh Anna. Poor dear, sweet Anna. She wasn't like me. She didn't know how to guard her heart and not let people in. She wore her emotions on her sleeve. This was going to break her. What would she even say? What would she even do? How-

"YOU BASTARD!" she suddenly roared, charging towards him.

He whirled around with a startled, "Anna? Wha-"

She bodyslammed into him hard, sending them both crashing to the ground where she then proceeded to start royally whaling on him and calling him every nasty word under the sun while I and the rest of the room's onlookers just watched blankly.

...huh.

Apparently, that's what she'd say and do.

Welp. Guess that answered that.

Author's Note: Oh gosh, this really WAS a lot to happen to Elsa in the space of… yeah, 30 minutes sounds about right xD All with only that infernal bed sheet to keep her modesty intact! I just have too much fun torturing my precious awkward penguin, it's all done out of love, I swear xD Anyhoo *throws confetti and blares trumpets* it's official, Lea and Elsa are a couple for REAL this time, huzzah! Did anyone guess that Lea had actually been at the lantern festival? I dropped hints throughout the story, but dunno, maybe they were too subtle… or too obvious and just no one said anything to me xD Anyhoo, not much left to go now, just a lil bit of wrap up!

Next time, how will things unfold from here on out for our newly minted couple? Will Elsa EVER actually get to put on clothes? Will Riku EVER get to leave his own bedroom ever again? Just HOW deep does Rayne's pumpkin spice addiction really go? Is the Mother Hickey ACTUALLY proof that Lea is secretly a vampire? Will Anna LITERALLY get away with murder by the time she's through with Hans? Sorry, running on empty with questions at this point, got nothing but silly ones left for ya'll xD Anyway, stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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#kingdom hearts #frozen #elsa #axel #fanfiction #lea #fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #kh fanfiction #kh fanfic #frozen fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfic #axelsa #fluff #romcom #slow burn #kh3 #my writing #ice cream and fire oven pizza #rare pair #crossover pairing #humor #snark #fake dating au

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: leave her wild; drew gulak

Notes:

So this is my feral!omega fic universe. And this came to me on the main from @andie01​ and one day, I swear to God.. I’m gonna do something with Drew and Lily and the whole concept of a feral omega. So, until I figure it out, have this instead.

Summary:

The night Drew scented Lily / their first meeting. Intense flirty banter ensues.

Warning:

uhh... not really? just lil hints of dominant!gulak, that’s all.

Pairing:

Drew Gulak x OFC, Lily

Strawberry filled the air and Drew froze in the middle of the hallway and inhaled it in sharply. His entire body went from relaxed to taut as a rope and his eyes darted around. The scent got heavier and heavier, until it almost had his mouth physically watering. He growled to himself quietly, hefting the purple strap of leather from one side of his chest to the other.

It all happened so fast when it did happen that as her scent faded seconds later, Drew was left to stand there, hand in his hair as he puzzled it out.

The blonde tore down the hallway,  with Mustafa’s girlfriend Nima hot on her heels, this mischief filled giggle filling the air and piercing through Drew’s deep thought and intent focus. The scent was almost overpowering as the blonde raced past.

… it’s her, she’s ours…

… god she’s so fucking beautiful…

… go on, go after her… she needs us…

… there isn’t time right now… after the match…

… mate needs us now… not after the match… couldn’t you scent it on her…

… not now. Be patient… i have every intention of making myself known as soon as the match ends…

He was just about to step into the dressing room, but she stopped and turned. Her eyes met his and she gave this devilish little grin as her hand raised, fingers tangling in the ends of long blonde strands. She stared him down, almost as if she were undressing him with her eyes.

But what really got to him the most was when she called out to him.

“Has anyone ever told you, sir.. Staring is rude. Take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer?” - was said with a soft laugh punctuating the end of her words. The wink she gave had Drew Gulak tensing his hands at his sides and her little amused smirking giggle, well… It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that his Omega was… Not your typical one.

Most had the thickest hint of needy in their scent. Not her.

This heavy air of wild and free, that replaced the usual neediness.

… a challenge, hmm?… we’ll just see about that…

… she wants you… needs you… just won’t show it easily… but you’ll win her over… we’ll win her over…

Then, as fast as it all happened, his Omega was gone, disappearing out into the parking lot, leaving just the faintest hint of wild and over ripened strawberries in her wake. Drew inhaled deeply again and then took a long and shaky breath.

Focusing on the task at hand was going to be difficult now. Not so difficult he couldn’t, but just a shade more challenging than he might have previously thought.

X

Out in the parking lot, Lily exhaled sharply. Her breath was shaky and she leaned heavily against the door, staring up at the darkening sky. Just that fire in those eyes.. Her thighs were absolutely coated with slick. It was taking every single ounce of her willpower not to march right back in there and seek him out.

… Alphas are all entitled schmucks though… name one you know who isn’t an asshole when the other side takes over…

…. Go to him…. Ours… Want…. Need… so much… fuck….

…then again Lily thought to herself on the subject of her Alpha apparently being none other than Drew Gulak, he’s too controlled for that and something tells me that while maybe he has his moments… he is far from an asshole type… but there’s no way it would ever work, not without one of one or the other changing massively… is there?

From beside her, Nima spoke up.

“You do realize.. If you try to keep him at arms length, it isn’t going to work. And Drew isn’t.. A bad guy. Not at all. He’s not like the others, he wouldn’t hurt you. That is what you’re afraid of, is it not?”

“It is. But how do I know Drew Gulak isn’t the same as literally every single other Alpha out there? I mean…” Lily dragged her fingers through her hair and grimaced as the teeth she’d had filed into fangs recently poked at her lower lip.

“Still stand by thinking it’d be ‘wicked’ to have fangs?” Nima questioned with a soft laugh as she gazed at her friend. Despite not being the same as Lily was, she knew enough alphas, betas and omegas to know that what was happening to her best friend right now was huge. And Lily, well.. She was probably overthinking it, just like always.

“Hell yes. They suit me. Just.. wish they’d hurry and dull at the tip.”

Nima snickered, she didn’t have to be Lily’s longtime best friend to realize that Lily thought she was in the clear and the subject at hand was going to change. She’d simply let the matter drop for the moment.

She got the distinct feeling that Drew Gulak was going to be relentless in his pursuit and that could be a very good thing for her best friend. Lily needed and most certainly deserved the attention and stability Drew would bring to the table.

And Drew, well.. Lily could teach him how to loosen up a little, hopefully.

Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see how the rest of the night unfolded. She knew how driven Drew could be when he set his mind to something… and if that look in his eyes was anything to go by, well… He’d set his mind to having Lily as his chosen Omega.

X

The match ended just the way he’d pictured it ending and the ref raised his arms in victory. The strap was still clutched tight in his hand and despite himself, his eyes scanned the crowd.

At some point during the match, he’d scented her in the area.. And he felt an intent gaze.

An intent gaze that persisted throughout the entirety of his match to defend the belt. Just knowing she’d seen him… Gave him this sense of pride.

And yes, maybe he was a little smug. Because despite the whole air of distrust / amusement he’d picked up earlier, she was admittedly curious enough about him to watch his title defense.

He made his way up the ramp on autopilot, it barely registered as he stepped through the curtains and into the backstage area. He stopped to lean against a wall, gather himself together a little bit.

Her scent was much heavier now. If he had to guess, she was in the throes of heat fever. Just the thought of that had him a little out of sorts.

And he sensed that she might well be right now too.

And that it also was not going to be easy to get her to see reason. To see that no, he wasn’t at all like the other Alphas they were surrounded by.

But, he thought to himself, he was going to die trying if he had to.

He was just about to step away from the wall, set off to go track her down when Mandy Rose cornered him. He stared down at her, a blank look on his face as she trailed her fingertip over his chest and bit her lip.

“That was a very, very impressive win.”

“And? Your point? I have to go.” Drew shoved past her, leaving her to stand there, staring at him as he walked away. Drew rounded a corner and a wall of wild and over ripened strawberry hit him, encasing him and almost sending him right into a stupor. His body tensed ever so slightly.

The blonde stared up at him in amusement.

“In a hurry, tiger?”

-  fuck, her voice is so soft and low, she’s practically purring, just how the fuck am I supposed to… focus… on anything… ever again… the thought came and he pushed it out quickly, in favor of answering.

“I prefer wolf… And no, not now.” Drew stepped a bit closer. The heaviness of her scent was drawing all sorts of attention from the other Alphas he shared a roster with. He wanted it perfectly clear just whom the blonde in front of him was meant for.

“Oh really?” Lily’s teeth tugged at her lip and she stared up at him, conflicted. There was this air of confidence practically radiating off of him that drew her to him and yet, the fact that he was an Alpha -and apparently, her Alpha, it was keeping her at bay. She’d heard of far too many bad experiences to just.. Give in easily.

Her own mother’s experience with the bond, for starters.

His scent hung heavily in the air, earthy and yet still crisp and clean somehow. She breathed it in deeply, trying to be as covert about it as possible, but when she saw that little amused gleam in his eyes, she knew she’d been caught. He moved closer. Fuck, he’s a giant, she swallowed hard as the thought came bursting to the forefront of her mind. His hand reached out, brushing away the shaggy fringe that hung in her eyes to neatly tuck it away behind her ear. He gave a satisfied smile as he did it, muttered in a smooth and quiet tone, “There now, that’s much better. I can actually see your eyes.”

“Maybe I liked my hair messy, sir.” Lily started to protest, biting her lip, biting just a little too hard and swearing over it when she felt the pointed tip of her filed teeth lightly stab against the soft flesh of her mouth as her lips settled into a pout. She gave him an almost defiant look and Drew chuckled, giving a lazy shrug. “I’ll keep that in mind then.”

“Yeah.. Do that.” Lily swallowed hard again and shuffled her feet, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. “Your match was amazing, by the way.. Not that I was like.. Watching or anything.”

He chuckled and at the sudden filling of the hallway, found himself pressing much closer. His hand lingered at her hip, giving just the slightest hint of a squeeze as he boldly met and held her gaze. She went to look away, he tilted her chin so that she couldn’t, so that she had to see him.

“Now we both know that isn’t true. You were watching. Which is good. It’s okay to admit you’re curious about me.”

“No, I just happen to be passing by.” Lily tried to insist, even as he shook his head and chuckled. She found herself pressing closer, despite everything in her trying it’s best to resist the urge, to fight the pull to him she felt.

It was almost overwhelming. Like being in a strong current that she couldn’t get out of. And the scariest part?

Deep down she didn’t really want to get away. She didn’t want to put up a fight, but it was in her nature to an extent.

The two sides of her were conflicted and battling it out.

“Either way.. I’m glad you stuck around and watched. It kind of gave the match a meaning and a purpose for me.”

“You mean beyond that purple strap you’ve got yourself there?” Lily eyed the belt and he chuckled, raising a hand to rub his chin. When she pouted a little because he’d moved his hand, he was quick to put it back down at her hip where he had it and he gave her an amused look.

The heat in her body was hanging heavily between them and when he saw her sway a little on her feet, he gripped her hips tighter, pulling her in closer and as a result, closing the distance between them. “That is exactly what I mean.”

“Yeah? Tryin to prove something to little old me, big guy?” Lily sucked in a deep and harsh breath just to stop the whine from coming when she actually pressed her body right against his just to keep from falling forward, tired of trying to fight everything like she had been for nearly two days now.

It wasn’t getting any easier at all. The calmest she’d felt was right now, with him standing here, his hands on her hips, his body against her own. She could actually breathe again.

… you know this isn’t gonna go well… you’re two very different people…

… we want him… he’s chosen us… stop fighting it…

Drew felt the slackening of her body and he took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t even be standing here right now.” his hand raised to her forehead, the back of it resting against as he hissed at the spike in her body temperature. The scent of her was almost syrupy sweet now and her mouth opened and closed again, almost as if she fully intended to protest but for whatever reason, she stopped.

“Yes, well.. I have to work.”

“You need to rest.” he bent, picking her up. She squeaked in surprise and eyed him, biting her lip, almost as if she were considering what he was trying to do. “I have feet, you can put me down.”

“I could.” Drew responded in a firm and yet mild tone, shrugging as he continued, “But I’m not going to.”

“Just why the hell not, hmm?” Lily asked the  question, purposely brushing her lips right against the side of his neck. She smirked to herself when she felt his pulse quicken even more. Despite everything in her continuing to insist she protest, she do something to stop the magnet’s pull she was under, she found herself nuzzling against him, resting her head against the space between his shoulder and neck.

“Because, princess.. What kind of Alpha would I be if I did make you walk right now, hmm?” his voice was whisper quiet, almost a low hum and she stared at him intently, taking a few deep breaths. “The kind that I’m used to.” Lily answered truthfully. There was no sense in lying to the man, if he insisted on pursuit.

“Clearly, you’re used to the wrong kind.” Drew scoffed and found himself wondering just where her misconceptions about the bond stemmed from. She wiggled just a little in his grip and he held her tighter, pushing open the door to a quieter and far less crowded room backstage with his foot and stepping inside, sitting her down. Once he had her sitting down, he began to walk back and forth, thinking everything out.

“Possibly. But tell me, sir.. Why should I believe that you’re not just looking for holes to fuck like all the rest?”

Drew stopped and stepped between her legs as he snorted in laughter and his fingertip trailed her jaw, tilting her chin upward so he could stare down at her. “If I were looking for that, I’d go and find someone completely useless and tedious to deal with like Mandy Rose. I didn’t and I don’t intend to. No,” he eyed her and barely restrained a low throaty growl from deep in his chest as his eyes met hers again, finishing, “I’ve made up my mind. And once I make up my mind, princess, you’ll find that I don’t change it often.”

Lily sucked in a breath in an attempt to cover a whine. She failed miserably. Her mouth opened and closed and it did so again and again, still no words coming. The heat was almost searing her skin now. “You’re betting on a losing outcome this time, I hate to tell you.”

“You believe so? Because I don’t, actually. You might say one thing.. But I know the truth.”

Lily swallowed hard, her eyes darting around. Drew cupped her jaw and made her look directly at him again and when she did, she swore under her breath. He could tell she was exhausted. She’d probably been fighting this far longer than he knew. She’d probably started to feel the change days before he ever scented her, before the other side chose her.

It tended to happen that way.

“So what is this truth you know, hmm?” Lily scooted to the very edge of the table, her arms raising and slipping around his neck. If he was going to keep calling her out, damn straight, she thought to herself, she was going to keep pushing. Sooner or later, one or the other would hit a non comfort zone.

Drew picked right up on what she was doing and he chuckled quietly, giving her an amused smirk. “Oh princess. You really think you’ll make me back down first, hmm?”

“I’ll go as far as I need to.” Lily answered, gulping as she did. Her lips carefully brushed right against his and he sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the pierce of sharp fangs prickling at his gums.. The wolf within was… beyond ready to lay claim.

“You will, hmm..” Drew’s eyes darted down, one of his hands left her hip and moved over her thighs almost casually as he looked back up, hint of an /innocent/ smirk on his face when his eyes met hers. She gulped, even more this time. A sharp hiss lingered in the air as Drew’s hand continued to lazily move over her skin, almost intimately. Almost as if he were… learning the way to get a response out of her. After a second or two to collect herself, she gave a nod, but it wasn’t as confident as she’d been up to this point.

Lily was in grave danger of cracking like an egg.

“I.. I will.” her voice wavered just a shade and she mumbled the words softly pressing her lips right against his as her fingertips dug into his shoulders and she went from keeping a healthy distance to pressing completely against him. When her tongue danced over his lips, he growled and dug his fingertips into her hip, backing away. He had to breathe.

It was… Intense.

A thousand times more intense than he’d ever thought it might be.

Her body rubbed against his and he growled quietly, raising a hand, resting it against the back of her neck, pulling her mouth against his roughly, giving a greedy kiss. She started off with her palm down against his chest, as if she intended to pull him away, but before too long, her fingertips were digging into his skin lightly, earning her another deep growl that escaped into the kiss and was quickly swallowed. She repeated it, the rubbing herself against him and he nipped at her lip.

“Don’t fight it. You have no reason to.”

“I have every reason..” Lily managed to take a few deep breaths before pulling his mouth back against her own greedily, “To fight it.”

“Name one.”

The kiss broke  and Drew stared down at her solemnly, waiting.

“I..I… You’ll try to change me.. All of you Alphas say you won’t. You always do. And when you can’t, well.. You’ll be gone too.”

“If I wanted to change you, I’d find someone else.. Someone who fit what you seem to think I want.” Drew answered patiently, leaning back in. Lily tapped a fingertip against his pecs and stared up at him, pondering over what he said.

“Maybe you have me curious.. But I’m gonna… Need time.. Proof you’re not just another over entitled schmuck.”

Drew chuckled and nodded, taking a deep breath to get himself back under control. “I think I can manage that. I’m a patient guy when I really want something and I believe it’s worthwhile to be so. Took a few years, but I now have this.” he nodded ot the belt lying discarded on the tabletop next to her and Lily swallowed hard, leaning against him heavily.

“It’s so fucking hot in here..”

“It’s your fever, princess. Let’s get you out of here, hmm?” Drew cupped her jaw, pulling her mouth back to his as he mumbled the statement quietly.

“Okay, alright.. For the moment, you win. Simply because I am too damn tired to argue.”

#drew gulak fanfiction #drew gulak fanfic #drew gulak fic #drew gulak oneshot #drew gulak imagine #// alpha and omega dynamics applied heavily. #// cute fluff and banter #// a lil intensity #// part of lily and drew's story and one day maybe I'll write it

[dumbchickwrites]

Brought Me Back.

Pairings: Frank Castle x Reader.

Warnings: a lil angst, smut!

A/N: I don’t remember if at this point of the series Amy is already Amy, so my apologies if I messed up.

***

“Hey, what you doin’?” you asked Amy who was rummaging Dinah’s kitchen cupboards.

“I swear to God, that woman is some kind of bird. What kind of person only eats grains and nuts?”

You laughed at her exasperated expression. Dinah had been kind enough to let you stay here with Frank and Amy. The poor woman was still tormented by Billy, after all this time and you really pitied her. She deserved some kind of closure. She deserved better. Looking at Amy, you thought that she deserved better too, no matter what kind of life she had before entering yours, or what she’d done. She was just a kid.

Glancing at the clock on the oven, you let out a big sigh. Frank had been out for quite some time now and you started worrying a bit more. He’d went out to get info out of some Russian guys and you prayed that he was okay.

“Thinking about your boyfriend?” Amy teased, making you smile. “I really can’t find anything. How about some pizza?”

As if on cue, the heavy wooden front door opened, revealing Frank covered in blood. He was grumpy, as usual, but you could see that he wasn’t majorly injured.

“Wow, great timing,” you said. “We were just about to order some pizza.”

He raised both of his thumbs at you and Amy before disappearing in the bedroom. Amy sighed, opening her brand new laptop to order the pizza, you assumed.

“How did this begin anyway? I mean, you two are pretty cute with you as the sunshine next to Frank’s big dark cloud but I just can’t wrap my head around how you met.”

“Oh, you want me to tell you a story? Is that what this is?” you smirked.

“Yep! I wanna hear everything about the time mommy and daddy first met.”

“Well, how do I start… So I was a hitwoman, right. I was pretty good. I used to get paid y’know, depending on the target, or I’d work ‘freelance’ kind of like Frank. I had very good deals with the Italian mafia, by the way. So one day I get this deal, right. Half of the money upfront, the other half after the job was done. It’s this weird sketchy ass motherfucker, a child molester, fucking disgusting. At first I wouldn’t accept the money ‘cause I thought, it’s for a good cause, but I got bills to pay.

“So I get in the building. It was hella creepy, it gave me the chills, kids clothes hanging on the walls, some of them torn, even bloody. I remember this little pink fairy costume… it absolutely broke my heart. Anyway, I’m distracted by the clothes then I hear a silenced gunshot. The bullet lands in the wall, right next to my head. I turn around and there’s the fucking Punisher. We fight for like a minute before realizing that we’re here for the same thing. So we finish the guy together and leave. He sees blood on my clothes — a GSW from a previous job and he offers to take me back to his place where his friend can stitch me up properly.”

“So what, you had sex?”

“No!” you snorted. “We talked all night, and realized we were kind of the same; two hollow souls killing to make peace with themselves,” you took a sip of your cooling tea. “You see kid, I was in a very bad place. I was lost, I was desperate, y’know I didn’t know if I had a purpose in this world. I’d already tried to end my life a few times, put a bullet in my mouth,” you tried to swallow the big lump forming in your throat. “But Frank, he—he brought me back from that dark place, you know, just by being by my side. I now have someone I care about, something to live for. I wish I could say that he felt the same though. His family still haunts him, and I’m not saying that I want him to forget them and live for me like I live for him, but I wish I was enough.”

Amy observed uncomfortably as you were struggling to regain your composure. It wasn’t often that you had the occasion to talk about your feelings and pour your heart out to someone, but you were glad to finally let everything out. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“Sorry kid, this just got a little heavy for you, huh?” you let out a humourless chuckle.

“No, it’s fine. Really. So… you love him?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Yeah I guess I do. But I don’t think he knows that. I’m afraid he’d go running for the hills if I told him and I really don’t want to lose him.”

“Well I can’t tell you what’s in Frank’s head but I can give you a hug, maybe?” she gave you a crooked smile, her arms opened.

“Yeah, I’d like that, come here.”

The blonde girl went around the counter to meet you and wrapped her arms around you.

“Thanks kid. You’re a good listener.”

“Yeah, I know, I get that a lot.”

*

Amy stretched her limbs out as the credits rolled up on the TV screen. It had been the coziest evening you had in a while, watching a stupid movie with pizza and two people you deeply cared about.

“I’m going to bed,” Amy stated. “Good night.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you said after her, since you were both sleeping on the bed.

You sat up from your comfortable spot in Frank’s arms and started cleaning up the coffee table.

“You barely ate,” Frank pointed out, following you in the kitchen, cans of Coke in hand. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, it’s just that whole quiet life thing that got me putting on a few stupid unwanted pounds so I’m just, you know, trying to change that,” you answered, still tidying up Dinah’s place.

Frank froze for a moment, as if he had trouble processing the information before chuckling while shaking his head.

“That’s bullshit. I mean, to me at least. I like it,” he slapped and squeezed your ass, making it jiggle in your black sweatpants. “I really, really like it.”

You rolled your eyes at his behavior. “Very mature, Castle.”

“Hey, come here a sec,” he sat on a stool. “Look, I, uh, I heard you talking to the kid earlier.”

Your eyes widened as your heart sank in your chest. He heard you. He knew you were in love with him. He was going to leave and never come back and you’d be all alone again. Could you survive another loss? What will you do? Will you go back to wandering around the city as an assassin who claimed to be a vigilante? Your heart rate became quicker. You were scared. You’d just lost everything. You closed your eyes briefly, cursing yourself for even talking to Amy in the first place.

“And, uh, you make me better too. Before, when I was hurt, I could just let myself die, you know. I was waiting for death every morning, every second of the day I hoped it would find me. But now, knowing that I have you waiting for me somewhere, it just—it just gives me strength, you know. You’re more than enough,” he raised a calloused hand to your face, cupping your cheek, and you leaned in it. “You can never lose me. I love you.”

He moved his hand to the back of your neck to pull you in a passionate kiss. At that moment, you were certain your heart was going to explode in your chest. You thought you’d already met the love of your life once, but that wasn’t the case. Frank loved you back. That was all that mattered at the moment. Well maybe a wild Billy in the streets and an even wilder preacher looking guy trying to kill you, but all of this was moved to the back of your mind the second Frank’s lips met yours.

“I wanna hear you say it, (Y/N),” he whispered against your lips. “Say it.”

“I love you, Frank. I love you.”

With a grunt, he picked you up, hands massaging your ass, to lead you to the couch, where he laid you down, his lips still devouring yours. His fingers found the base of your black tank top, reading to remove it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you whispered. “What about the kid? She’ll hear us! And this is Dinah’s couch!”

His eyes locked on yours, he slid a hand in your underwear feeling your already soaking core, as he circled one of your hard nipples over your top with his other thumb.

“Yeah, I think you’re thinking just like me. Fuck this and fuck that,” two of his fingers entered your tight pussy. “What do you say, doll?”

“Fuck me. Please.”

“Nah, sweetheart,” he took of his shirt in one swift move and unbuckled his belt. “I’m making love to you tonight.”

He undressed you as fast as he could, only leaving you with your panties. He took his time to remove them, leaving kisses all over your legs down to your inner thighs where he bit and kissed every inch of your skin. He hooked two fingers on the sides of your black number, and slowly, very slowly, slid it up your legs to watch as your juices separated between your skin and the fabric of your underwear. Satisfied, Frank’s fingers found their way inside of you again, making you a whimpering mess as he moved them in and out of you, while simultaneously playing with your nipples.

He brought you to the edge of your release only to deprive you of it. He looked content of it, the asshole. You watched as he rose to his feet to remove his pants and his underwear, licking your lips at the sight of his hard cock. You spread your legs, as ready as you’ll ever be. Goosebumps covered your body when you felt the tip of his cock on your throbbing clit.

“Tell me again,” he demanded, his thumb caressing your lower lip.

“I love you, Frank. I love you more than anything,” you said, cupping his face with your hands. He closed his eyes and kissed your palms, leaning into your comforting touch. As he bent down to kiss you, you became more intimate than ever, physically and emotionally. You had hope that everything would be okay as long as he held you in his arms, as long as his skin would be agaisnt yours nothing could get to you, nothing could break you.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck as his thrusts deepened, his grunts sounding like the greatest melody you’d ever heard. The skin of his back was soft under your hands, his own delicately raising your legs to rest them on his shoulders, giving him a better angle to pound into you. The spark that lit up between you had turned into a fire that you could now see in his eyes as he looked at you; helpless, completely giving yourself to him. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing on earth when you were a reflection of him.

He switched positions to have you on top. You could now run your hands all over each other’s upper body. You touched and kissed every scar you could reach, letting him know that you loved them as much as you loved him because they’re a part of him and his story. He held your hips to slow down the pace, making the strokes slower and deeper.

Then you felt it. Every muscle in your body tensed up as you finally found your release. Frank kissed you to muffle your moans, still pounding into you to make your orgasm last as long as possible. He came soon after you under the contractions of your pussy, staying inside of you even after it was over.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered against your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“How do you know?” you asked, eyes welling up with emotion.

“‘Cause I got you.”

*

A FEW WEEKS LATER.

The weather seemed to be linked to Frank’s mood. Hell, to his life even. Rain was pouring down on him as he started at the big stone in front of him. His face was blank. He didn’t even know if he should be sad or angry. He had no one else to blame but himself. He’d done that to you.

“Frank, come on,” a soft voice said.

Karen squeezed Frank’s arm to bring him back to reality but it was like he wasn’t there. Curtis and Dinah exchanged a worried look. Frank was broken for good now. There was no fixing him. Not anymore.

“I told you,” Frank finally spoke, eyes still glued to your tombstone. “There’s no warm, cozy ending for me.”

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic

[unproduciblesmackdown]

40, 47, 59, 62, 76

lmao hell yeah thanks for All this support i love it!! quastions

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

really idk i feel like even our schools’s Antics were pretty par for the course and i was just sitting in the corner reading the whole time basically......trying to think if anything wild happened in college but even then it was p similar. well you know what, whatever donors covered the majority of the cost of the school’s black box theater being renovated apparently Stipulated that every other year a rodgers and hammerstein production be put on. absolute freaks. my roommate/friend and their then-boyfriend, the one mormon i have Knowingly Known in my life, were in pirates of penzance (sic?) together. hilarious

47. favorite type of cheese?

i like cheddar and like, parmesan, smoked gouda.....let’s get that shit Sharp!!! and hard lmao

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

idk i’d be like an npc just doing their weird thing on their own. i’ve never played pokemons unless you count pokemons Go but i think about the famed “i like shorts they’re comfy and easy to wear” npc kid. like, yeah. i feel the same. and would say similar bullshit nobody asked about

62. seven characters you relate to?

oh god.........recognizing the self through the relatable characters :|

well let’s just talk about the wrol roles right off b/c the characters that Most occupy my gay thoughts (which is to say: my general thoughts) will inevitably get priority when it comes to Remembering things

1) whom among us doesn’t relate to jared kleinman........will roland emerging from relative obscurity and coming for our entire fucking lives like the goddamn legend he is. it’s tough b/c it’s like, oh well alana is relatable too, so is evan unfortunately sorry evan, and in ways i might ~usually act~ like one of those two more than jared but. no. it is Jared who wins the relatability contest, and we all get to be beautifully haunted by it forever

2) leaning hard into winston even with the few glimpses of him b/c somehow will Cannot play an allistic cishet. and this is even More of a case where maybe i don’t much have winston’s demeanor.......even without winston being a beacon of confidence, he has more confidence lmao. and he has that ability to just Be Himself in a situation which, i wish i had that moxie lmao. i am a lot more [usually trying to be accommodating wayyyy harder than i should], booo......even though he’s clearly not great at conflict considering how it doesn’t take Too much to put him out, it’d be pretty impossible for me to be all “called them hacks and lame” or carry out a very irritated monologue in front of four people in the first place lmao. but who knows. and it’s more in the details of like, oh no winston’s the odd one out even though he hasn’t really Done Anything, but we all ~understand~ why he Deserves it.........his expectation / treating it basically as Fact that he will disappoint people.......the [weird] [offputting] behaviors and his way of speaking in What he Says and How He Says It seeming wrong to people.......like it’s only 15-ish min of content that we have here and we don’t have the least info about will’s own thoughts on the character but it’s like. how is this such an iconic Gay Autistic Quant b/c these vibes are so rare. and i appreciate that he can be ~difficult~ lmao. same with jared though i didn’t mention it. i can be difficult!! love it for us...

3) briony atkins from murder of bindy mackenzie as a character who Does act more like how i Usually Act Like lmao.....god we’re only on three i forgot there was seven of these. and yet i know there’s probably at least 2 dozen characters who could make this list and i just won’t think of most of them unless directly reminded......but anyways yeah i mean in person i mostly do Not want attention unless i feel comfortable enough / in my element or whatever. especially if it’d be some situation like “sitting in a group of randos” lol. i mean it depends b/c i also can sometimes be ~on~ in terms of Masking and trying to be like Haha I’m Social I’m Regular and i def engage in Nervous Chatter sometimes, but like, very often it’s like god don’t talk to me and i don’t want to talk either.....and then yeah people Will be surprised that like, idk, i’m opinionated as shit and idk that i Enjoy Things / Have Thoughts And Feelings coz the assumption i guess is that you must simply have nothing to say. so the dismissal of this person who seemingly has nothing to contribute and must be Boring rings true lmfao.....but then of course it’s also important that her personality Under that is the one getting mistaken for emily’s lol cuz yeah At Heart i am sure of that dramatic / intense / excitable type Sometimes. but it takes some excavation before i am like “oh i can engage in my actual self” and like weeks and months to get comfortable w/ people and i’m always suspicious that anyone actually would enjoy it and i’m not too much......i am a motormouth actually and have something to say about any and everything and like to Have Fun Here but like. idk i come off as boring and can be Notably Quiet lmao

4) oscar martinez from the office is weirdly [Haha Same] sometimes lmfao. sort of keeps to himself but also has to pipe up with Opinions and Pedantry and the kind of Drama of a restrained theatre gay. some deleted scene from an episode where during an interview clip of Jimothy in a theater lobby and you have oscar call from across the group in that [wearied Ugh God] way of ‘jim, they’re remaking ___’ while jim just kind of gives a cursory “wow gosh” or whatever and like, i sure don’t have lots of Theatre Opinions but that “oh jeez i have a Take on this and have to share it with someone” vibe is like hahaha yeah.....it’s funny in the “the gang goes to the ice rink for a third of the ep” bit where you just catch oscar doing [ice skating turn] with some solemn intensity.......the “here’s a question nobody’s asking: is this worth it” quote.........way at the end where there’s a whole deal with one of the indoor plants and he’s like “why is it a He” @ the collective gendering of the houseplant lmfao.......i love the one thing where he and pam and uhh toby right? have the Finer Things book club or whatever and jim wants to join just like ~ironically~ and pam has to tell him that oscar doesn’t want him to join b/c he’s not going to take it seriously and use it as a Jokes Vehicle. and then you get the scene at the end where jim Is basically doing that and they’re just like taking it out of him and oscar’s all very seriously like “did you get it all out of your system” lmfao like yeah, earnest members only lmao.....the thing where he gets mad at angela’s like Jazz Musician Posed Babies posters all “it’s kitsch it Destroys art” lmaoooo and in a totally different season all “this is the problem with debate” over the completely inconsequential “is [whichever actress, i forget] Hot” “”””debate””””.......the whole tendency to get involved and always have a take to get across.....opinionated-sometimes-to-the-point-of-petty central. also that he’s the canon gay, are there even any others? anyways and as the us office’s spiritual successor i’ll add on to this by uh what’s the name of billy eichner’s character on parks and rec? it’s craig right. that Self-Powered Intensity is very #me as well.

5) augh god........im like lmfao shit who represents my Hater Club side. hmmm. oh no wait you know what. totally different but i love Prof Beatrice Hotchkiss in the trt nancy drew pc game. she’s holed up in her room writing all the time and just is weird when you try to talk to her all like no i won’t open the door, bring me food, do this Research, bring me my Ski Boots i guess......and then when you do meet her it’s all at like post-midnight in the lounge and she’s all like, encouraging you as a Night Owl and your investigative curiosity and all and i’m like oh word yeah being up in the dead of night is the shit. she’s just weird and passionate and this is another character i might not Act hardly at all like but who i vibe with lmfao. hotchkiss was the supportive adult in my life

6) remembering how hotchkiss is a historian made me think of academia which made me think of like, once again with “these vibes are So So Rare” i really ought to put the wrol role of Nato on the list cuz like. that essential representation of “gets gr8 grades but isn’t really ~academic~ / doesn’t care about that and really just cares about Hanging W Friends and [real specific interests]” is like wow damn that’s the Mood. coz like to an extent i can always Relate to the ~overachiever~ types a la the [nerd character gets all-A’s and other nerd shit] deal, but there’s eventually the issue of like.....those characters like bindy mackenzies and alana becks Care about their achievements (not exclusively as some ppl would have it 9_9) and are Studious whereas i always hated school and was a godawful student in terms of Habits and always got good grades b/c the devil was with me or something and like people will think i must have tried real hard and dedicated myself to Academics and stuff and it’s like.........no................not at all hardly, sure i did my hw every night but at like 11:29 pm or studied for a midterm at lunch right before the class lol or flipped through a lil bit of the sat study guide the night prior.........the “low-effort dumbass who Academically Excels Anyhow” representation is so crucial like!! i run into a wall when it’s the Good Grades nerd character who is real studious and focused and stuff like. couldn’t be me. meanwhile the “naturally weird + probably some ‘deliberate’ weirdness” and “likes animals” and “most likely to just wanna Roll With It” and “shitty focus lol” and “non sequiturs” and “without [activity] i do nothing” is all like....ahahahohoho..........nato rly got to make this list. and honorable mention for Wrol Jeremy. again: whom doesn’t relate!!!!!!!!

7) damnit i know there’s So many answers to [characters i relate to] and whom cover like, more particular Facets here but i’m struggling lmao. Uh. like i’m like, who’s the Hot Mess / continually evolving disaster characters i vibe with......who’s the peak despresso detached Haters rep......who embodies the solo production lifestyle........dammit you know what lol i tend to Feel for like, the background ~nobodies~ who might just get like totally destroyed in some movie with life or death stakes just to like, show how much danger our heroes / Important Complex Protags are. same w/ jeremy not feeling like the Hero / the one who the story’s about / the cool guy / player 1 / etc etc etc i’m like oo i’d be the npc who doesn’t really do anything, i’d be the rando getting blown away in the background of someone else’s story. on a totally different note another shoutout / honorable mention to wybie from the coraline lmfao one of the best characters invented from thin air for an adaptation......tangentially relevant b/c he’s entirely here to support the protag / not his story at all, just here to help and prompt interactions / exposition really.......but love that [weird loner kid who’s best friend is a cat and annoys the other kid and doesn’t Get it and has specific interests and entertains himself and just is doing weird shit around here tf dude lmao killing it] like, #mood. #lifestyle. less dismal to relate to than the bg person who dies......his counterpart who totally dies is somewhat fleshed out / given Investment so it doesnt Really count as [background Nobody who’s really just fodder for “defining the stakes / threat level”] Character Concept

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

latkes maybe......Yummy

#i expect to now just think of like ten dozen Other Characters who would've been great to mention #c'est la vie!!! c'est comme ca!!!! speaking of. thinking of the hc that winston jsut. drops french phrases into his speech sometimes #building on the moi....tbt ur benston fic w quelle horreur..... #nothingunrealistic1

[psychicrunawaybouquet-aus]

Another lil spideychelle fic thingy

Ok so I’m not really a fanfic writer. I don’t even really normally read fan fiction (I just happen to have read pretty much all the spideychelle fanfics out there I’m like an encyclopaedia at this point)

Anyway every now and then I post something when I can be bothered, but I have realised I just really don’t have the patience to proof read and edit and commit to writing something... good.

The point is respect to the fanfic writers out there that provide A+ works. I can only imagine how much time it takes.

So this is a little fic, it’s kind of a love at first sight/college AU. Prepare for a lil bit of smut. You have been warned.

...........

It was one of those moments in life, where time seems to stop. Something seems different and there is a sense that something in your very soul has shifted. A crack, a change, an alteration. It’s the only way he can describe looking at her.

‘Peter.’ He hears vaguely in the distance.

‘Peter? Are you even listening?’ He hears more assertively.

Reluctantly he tears his eyes away from the woman across the room to face his friend. ‘Sorry Ned, start again.’

‘I said, Matt, you know, Matt from Chem is starting a dungeons and dragons club, I was wondering if you wanna join and bring beers on Tuesday?’

But Peter couldn’t help that his eyes seemed to be naturally wondering back to her. He has never seen her on campus before or at a party. Her wild curls framing her face, her tall willowy frame dressed in a fight the patriarchy shirt with ripped black jeans.

Suddenly a loud clicking sound resonated in his left ear. ‘Dude!’ Ned said. ‘You coming on Tuesday or not?’

‘Yeah sorry man.’ He answers only half interested.

‘What’s got in to you?’ Ned asked before following his eye line. Suddenly he felt Ned elbow his ribs beside him. ‘Go talk to her!’ His jovial friend encouraged.

‘No way Ned, she doesn’t even know me, she doesn’t want some creepy dude ruining her night.’

‘Normally I would agree with you, but you’re in luck my friend.’ Ned says as he tips his hat like a cowboy.

‘What do you mean?’ Peter asks, confused.

‘Well I happen to know that the young lady in questions name is Michelle Jones. She’s in my philosophy class annnddd she is good friends with Betty. So you know. I’ll go over, say hi and introduce you.’

‘Seriously? What a small world?’ Peter says, wondering how he has never happened across the mysterious curly haired Michelle before.

Ned scoffed ‘Peter, it’s college, I know a lot of people.’

Peter laughed. ‘You mean Betty knows a lot of people.’

‘Do you want me to introduce you or not?’ Ned questioned.

‘Alright alright. Do I look ok?’ Peter asked self consciously smoothing his shirt with his sweaty palms.

‘Yeah man, your Spider-Man.’ Ned says positively.  ‘But maybe like undo a button or something.’

On the way across the room, Peter took Neds advice and undid one of the top buttons to his plaid shirt. But quickly felt self conscious, so did it back up before they reached her.

‘Hey MJ!’ Ned called in front of him. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

The girl, MJ. Turned and looked at Ned with apparent disinterest, but her face seemed to lighten a little as she recognised her classmate. ‘Oh hey Leeds. Where’s Betty? I haven’t seen her around?’

‘She’s in Maine with her family,’ Ned answered casually. Whilst Peter found himself gawking. MJ, Michelle Jones as Ned had called her, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Seeing her from far away did her no justice. She wasn’t a classical beauty, she was so much more than that. She was different and oozed a sense of cool that Peter could never hope to achieve. She was as blinding as the sun, yet as trance inducing as an open flame. He noticed her eyes lightly flicker to him, before quickly looking back at Ned.

‘This is my friend Peter Parker.’ Ned added, moving aside and gesturing to him. ‘Peter this is...’

But before Ned could finish Michelle cut him off. ‘Michelle Jones.’ She said forcefully holding her hand out for Peter to shake. Peter offered her a warm grin, before taking her hand into his. Her palms are smooth and soft, her skin warm. For a split second it feels like she is not looking at him, but seeing right through him. She holds his hand for a fraction of a second too long before she drops her hand and tucks her hair behind her ear.

‘Does he speak?’ MJ says to Ned aggressively.

‘Oh, uh yeah Hi. Sorry.’ Peter supplied quickly.

She raised her glorious eyebrow and smirked. ‘You’re a real nerd aren’t you Parker?’

Peter went to open his mouth but she added ‘No don’t defend yourself, I can tell. You Peter Parker are a nerd.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’ Peter questioned. Looking at Ned who shrugged.

She considered him for a second looking him up and down. Peter feeling slightly self conscious and terrified.

‘Nope.’ She said popping the p sound. ‘Nope, these days, I’d even argue that it’s hip to be a nerd.’

‘So I’m... hip then?’ Peter asked as she took a sip from her red plastic cup.

She laughed. A strangely feminine musical kind of laugh which juxtaposed her personality. ‘I’m just messing with you Parker. So what’s your deal? What year are you?’

‘Oh ah I’m a freshman, I ugh came here from midtown tech with Ned.’ He said as he went to gesture to his best friend, who was suddenly no longer next to him.

‘Oh that’s cool, you Ned and Betty. It’s good to know people.’

‘Yeah Peter nodded, the only problem is that they spend every weekend fucking in my dorm.’

Michelle laughed again, genuinely, and Peter decided that it was one of the most incredible sounds he had ever heard. It felt hard not to tell that somehow someway, she had opened some cosmic connection to his heart having an instantaneous effect on him. He wondered if this was what Shakespeare had imagined Romeo felt when he first meets Juliet.

‘I know the feeling.’ She says, bringing him out of his thoughts. ‘My roommate is actually an animal. It never ends. I don’t know how she keeps finding new people on campus to bang. Ugh I’ve decided I’m just gonna move into an apartment.’ MJ crosses her arms in front of her chest and leans casually against the wall.

‘That’s a good idea.’ Peter encouraged. Trying to act like her light wasn’t blinding him. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t thought of that.’

She smiled ‘well obviously I’m smarter than you, but if your in need of a roommate let me know.’ Again taking a swig of her drink. ‘I’m all out.’ She said. ‘What are you drinking Parker?’

‘Oh,’ he said glancing down at his cup. Trying not to appear to flustered. ‘Just beer I think.’

‘Yeah me too, I’m gonna go get another one.’ Picking up on her hint, Peter followed her outside and to the drinks table.

‘So what about you?’ He asked her. ‘Are you a freshman?’

She nodded as she ate a cracker.

‘What’s your major?’ He asked genuinely interested.

‘Journalism. You?’ She said as she crunched on carrot and dip.

‘Physics.’

‘Oooo Parker I was right you are a nerd.’ She said teasingly. Brushing her shoulder against his, Which was effecting him far more that it should be.

‘Yeah I guess.’ He says shrugging.

‘So what’s the plan? Are you gonna invent some shit? Go to space?’ She questioned.

Inwardly Peter considered that he already had invented ‘shit’ and been to space on several occasions, but neglected to mention it.

‘Something like that. What about you?’ Is all he says.

She went a long tangent about her goals as a writer, her ambition as a journalist, her political views. She had managed to insult Mr.Stark and had incorrect information on the snap, but still peter couldn’t help but readily digest every word she said with utter fascination.

‘How do you feel about Stark she asked? I mean as a physicist I’m sure you have a different perspective.’

Peter froze completely unsure of how to even begin to answer that question, what would he say. Well he is my mentor and sort of surrogate father? Albeit a emotionally removed and unavliable one.

‘Uhmmm well, to be honest, I don’t agree with everything he does but i know he has a brilliant mind and the best intentions.’

‘Do you think he still sells weapons under the table? My professor thinks so.’ She looks so passionate when she speaks, that he isn’t even offended by her question.

‘Well. Peter said carefully. ‘I really hope not.’

MJ rose her eyebrows over the rim of her cup and she took a sip. She swallowed and nodded. ‘ yeah I get that totally, we all want our heroes to be honest, but like really I feel like I’m most interested in the truth, even if it hurts. We deserve to know.’

‘Yeah’ Peter said, mostly agreeing with her, ‘But also I’m somewhat bias to the situation. Cause like, I’m kind of the heir to his company.’ He blurts out.

MJ’s eyes went wide and she coughed and spluttered everywhere. ‘What?’ She questioned. ‘Like, like as an like an heir to the British thrown but to Stark industries?’

‘Yeah well I kind of work for Stark and he was my mentor as a teenager, and then he kind of took me and my Aunt under his wing and, now I kind of ya know, help him develop tech and he sort of, asked me if he could leave me his company in the event of his death. So yeah I guess it’s kind of like inheriting the British thrown. But also nothing like it, I guess heir wasn’t the right word more like i’m responsible for managing his legacy?’

He truly doesn’t know why he is telling her this, she is clearly not a big fan of Mr. Stark, she is a journalism student and Tony’s will was supposed to just be between him, May and Pepper.

She just looks at him in shock. ‘Well that’s.... a lot.’ She says finally. ‘I’m sorry I, ugh didn’t know.’

‘It’s ok. Not everyone sees eye to eye with him. I get that. And also, no one really knows. I mean it’s no secret that I work on tech development, but, the rest is kind of private.’

‘So why are you telling me?’ She asked looking genuinely confused.

‘I don’t know really. I suppose a journalist is the worst person to tell. I guess they’re is something about you makes it easy for me to tell you.’

‘What can I say.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s my charm.’ Her teasing somewhat lightening the mood, making Peter laugh.

‘But just so you know Peter, your secrets safe with me.’ She offered him a small smile and looked deeply honest in her eyes.

‘How the hell did you end up as Starks protégée in the first place?’

And he finds himself telling her everything (aside from Spider-Man and anything overtly fantastical)

He tells her about his parents and Ben and May.

‘Wow.’ Was all MJ said. Reaching for his hand and holding it in support, searing his skin in the process. ‘If it makes you feel any better, my dad is in jail and my Mom is dead. But like he didn’t kill her!’ She adds quickly, ‘he’s in jail for an unrelated reason.’

‘Oh, wow MJ I’m sorry.’ Peter says as emphatically as he can manage.

‘Yeah you aren’t the only one with a sob story hey Parker! And look you became a future billionaire out of it.’ He can tell she is joking when she speaks. He somehow knows that she understands that the money doesn’t mean anything to him, that she knows he has been hurt.

He laughs warmly, his chest swelling with some foreign feeling, overwhelmed by her so quickly after meeting her. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? To your mom I mean?’

She took a deep breath ‘she was in an accident.’ That was all she said, it was clear she didn’t want to elaborate, so he didn’t push it, changing the subject.

‘Wanna go lay on the grass?’ He questioned gesturing to the small grass area in the back yard by the pool.

She shrugged. ‘Sure’

They lay on the grass and look up at the Stars in silence. Peter couldn’t help the bad memories that flood his mind as he thinks of his time amongst gods, stars and wizards. He thinks of when faded away to dust on titan, when they lost Cap, when he thought he had lost Tony.

Suddenly he felt cold fingers touch his temple, he looked to his left to find Michelle leaning on her hand, propped up on her elbow, she seemed to be using her other hand to smooth his face.

‘What’s the worry Parker?’ She asked as she brushed her thumb softly between his brows, preventing them from remaining furrowed.

‘That feels unbelievably nice.’ He said as she pressed her thumb and massaged his forehead.

‘There is something strange about you Parker.’ She said ominously, causing his heart beat to rapidly flutter.

He smiled at her, in the moonlight she looked even more beautiful then when he had first seen her. Her face seemed closer than before, and he wondered if she would want him to kiss her. But before he can consider for much longer, she is leaning in to his space, and he finds himself leaning forward.

When their lips meet, its like a supernova. Everything exploding in a glorious succession from his mouth all the way to his toes. He reaches his hand up to her face and winds his fingers in the hair that meets the back of her neck. She leans closer, parting her lips as his tongue grazes hers.

She makes a small whimpering sound that ignites his masculine ego, pulling her closer to him, desperate for more of her. She pulls away suddenly and the lack of her touch is like a cold chill taking over his body.

He searches her eyes, silently questioning if he has done something wrong. ‘Do you want to get out of here?’ She asks. Completely shocked, Peter doesn’t know what to say. He just opens and closes his mouth.

‘You don’t have to say yes, I’m sorry if I...’

But he cuts her off my by kissing her again, pulling her on top of him on the grass. She straddles his waist, and leans down so that their chest to chest, he kisses her hard, and finds himself running his hands hungrily up the sides of her torso. Her skin is hot, burning him in the most satisfying way.

‘Parker.’ She said against his mouth. ‘I’m not going to fuck you on the lawn.’ He immediately pulls away. ‘Oh yeah! I know I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you think that. I don’t expect anything.’

‘I know you dweeb. I’m just teasing you.’ She says. Swinging her leg off him and standing. She reaches her hand out to pull him up beside her.

They wander and chat and laugh back to campus, he follows her lead and finds himself at her door to her dorm. ‘My roommate is away so. You can come in.’ she says as she unlocks the door. Her dorm is interesting to say the least. One side, he assumes is her dorm mates. It’s pink and girly with makeup scattered on the bed. Michelle’s side has a book case, a Bernie Sanders poster and dark bed sheets with a floral pattern.

Mi Casa su Casa. She says, falling on the bed. Suddenly he is nervous, he hasn’t done this, in a long time, he isn’t super experienced. Maybe she is, maybe he will disappoint her.

‘I can hear your thoughts from here’ she says suddenly. ‘Relax Peter.’

MJ pulls him on top of her, and kisses his brow in an oddly intimate way. He captures her lips in his, and commits to the moment. She moans and keens and whimpers as he kisses down her neck, biting and sucking.

She reaches for the hem of his shirt and moves to pull it off. ‘Is this ok?’ She asks. He just nods stupidly and she tears off his shirt. She looks a little taken aback and as he leans back down to kiss her she halts him placing her palm flat on his chest.

‘What the hell parker?’ She asks abruptly.

‘What?’ He questions. Confused and concerned.

‘Do you like, live at the gym?’ She asks.

‘Oh. Ugh I try and stay fit.’ Peter bashfully admits attempting not to blush.

‘No shit.’ She says as she runs her hand slowly down his chest to his stomach and abs, stopping just at the waist band of his pants.

He shivers and MJ grins. Pulling her own shirt over her head. She is sans bra, which, is a nice surprise. And her breasts, like the rest of her, are perfect. He is drawn to them, kissing them carefully, pulling her nipple on his mouth, feeling it harden and pebble. Her moans might as well be angles singing in his ears.

Her back slightly arching off the bed. She pants in his ear. ‘Peter take my pants off.’ Its almost a demand. Desperate and fuelled with hormones.

And in that moment Peter has the feeling that if she were to let him, he would never deny her anything she could even want, so he does as she says. Undoing her belt lovingly. She grows frustrated ripping her jeans and underwear off, suddenly naked before him. Peter vaguely considers in the back of his mind that he is perhaps harder then he has ever been in his entire life. So ridiculously turned on by the woman he had only known a few hours.

‘Peter!’ She exclaims stop staring at me and do something! Please.’ She begs, which only serves to make Peter even more horny.

He runs his hand down her torso, before reaching her centre. He gently brushes her clit with his fingers. Causing her to shiver and bite her lip in the most glorious way. He moves his finger down and carefully slips it inside her warmth. He can hear her wetness already gathered there as he slowly pumps in and out, driving him completely insane. ‘Peter. I need more.’ She begs. He puts a second finger inside and kneels in front of her.

He pumps in and out as he softly kisses her sweet spot. Licking exactly the way that makes her scream unholy things. He hasn’t eaten anyone out in a long time, but he supposed it’s like riding a bike, it’s not something he can unlearn. She falls hard and breathy moaning his name over and over. Her chest rising and falling in frantic erotic breaths.

When she looks at him afterwards, he is grinning like an idiot. ‘Shut up!’ She says. ‘I didn’t say anything!’ He defends.

She pulls him back down on top of her and moans against his mouth when she taste herself on his lips. ‘We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want too.’ He offers.

Michelle raises an eyebrow. ‘I want too. Definitely.’

Peter shivers at her certainty, a beautiful woman wants him and he isn’t going to argue again. He takes the rest of his clothes off whilst MJ overtly admires him for a moment, making him blush profusely but she quickly wraps her hand around his shaft so he doesn’t have lot of time to be embarrassed, ‘so hard for me.’ She mumbles into his mouth. ‘You have no idea.’ He feels himself saying before he can stop it.

‘Condoms?’ He asks. ‘Oh yeah! In the draw.’ she reaches over and finds the box, in the bedside table. And for a split second he can’t help but think about the amount of condoms she had in her draw, he suddenly hates the hands of anyone who has touched her before he could, but he shakes the thought off, disgusted in his possessiveness. He opens a Condom from a green packet and discards the wrapping, but feels anxious and exposed again. hovering over her in anticipation and fear. ‘ you ok?’ She asks.

‘Yeah.’ He replies anxiously his voice a little cracked. ‘It’s just been a while.’ He feels himself shaking with anticipation and anxiety, but she seems to know what he needs, slowly and firmly rubbing his length until he can’t take it anymore. She pulls him down to her chest and runs her fingers gently down his back, like the ghost of a touch. ‘It’s ok Peter. You will be fine.’

‘I don’t know if I will...last.’ He admits, deeply embarrassed.

‘It’s ok I promise.’ She says Her eyes warm and genuine. ‘No pressure, you made me cum already remember?’ He nods and smirks and she shoves him gently on the shoulder, ‘Don’t get too cocky Parker it was one orgasm not twenty.’

So without anymore hesitation Peter is slowly pushing into her perfect tight heat and it’s glorious. He is in literal heaven. It’s how Hades must have felt when he coupled with Persephone, but without any of the kidnapping or dubious consent. Peter pushes the poor comparison aside to focus on what he’s doing. He looks down to read her expression. ‘I’m ok.’ MJ says seemingly reading his mind. ‘You can move.’ She tells him.

And he does. He tries to ease into it, but his body is desperate to go. He has to remind himself to contain his super human strength but all his body wants is too move harder and faster. Luckily, she seems to not mind. Encouraging him. ‘Yes. Peter more. Harder.’ She moans.

He thrusts hard and is almost undone by the sound of her cries. Her head thrown back in ecstasy. ‘Mmm yes, MJ.’ He mumbles roughly. ‘You’re so tight, you feel so good.’ He says into her sweet smelling hair. He feels her walls start to tighten and spasm after a while spent in pure pleasure and it takes everything in him not to cum. ‘Peter!’ She cries out at her release.

He can’t help it, the sound of her, the feel of her, the way she looked panting and sweaty, her nipples flushed and pert. Properly fucked, he thinks, inflating his own ego. He moves faster and harder, his hips bucking almost against his will.

‘Yes! She moans in his ear. ‘Your dick is so good.’ She cries.

And in the end, rather embarrassingly it’s her words that push him over the edge. He is jerking, rutting hips in his finish, any semblance of rhythm lost in the whitewash of his peak. Yet she also seems to be desperately enjoying it, clawing his back and moaning in his ear until he collapses on top of her. Utterly bewildered. They both gasp for air for a while, before he rolls off of her staring at the ceiling in total shock and awe.

‘Night Nerd.’ She mumbles.

They quickly fall asleep huddled together on her single bed mattress. The last thing he remembers is the sound of her gentle breath as sleep overwhelms him.

When Peter wakes in the morning, he feels so much contentment, more then he had felt in years. Michelle’s hair is wild next to him. Sprawled across his chest.  He can’t help but notice how she looks different in the light of the morning, younger somehow, more at peace.

Suddenly his phone starts ringing. Jolting them both. She shoots upright, feeling around for her phone. ‘MJ.’ He says. ‘It’s my phone. Go back to sleep.’

To his surprise, she immediately does, rolling over and softly snoring. He quickly admires the fact that her bed sheet is gathered at her waist, allowing him to scan the soft expanse of the smooth skin on her back. Peter checks his phone and sees 7 missed calls from Ned. Quickly he dresses and steps outside her dorm and into the empty corridor.

He calls Ned, who answers almost immediately. ‘Peter where the hell did you go last night, I thought something might have happened.... you know to Spider-Man!’ He scolded.

‘Shit Ned I’m sorry. Nothing happened with Spider-Man. I ugh. I went home with MJ last night...’

It took 3 full seconds before Ned says anything. ‘You what!??? You have to tell me everything, are you a college slut now? I never imagined you would be. Is this your first one night stand? Not that I have had any...’

‘Ned, Ned stop, I’m still here with her. I’m in her dorm room hallway.’

‘Oh.’ Ned says

‘But umm. I think I there’s a problem.’ Peter adds.

‘What is it? You ok? Did you have performance anxiety? Did the condom break? Did...’ Ned asks hurriedly over phone.

Ignoring his friends questions Peter just says ‘I think... well I think I’m in love with her.’

‘Oh. Oh no.’ Is all Ned says in reply.

#spideychelle #peter parker #michelle jones #tomdaya

[lawlipops]

what’s the point « jiwoo moon

jiwoo snapped his head up, rousing from his nightmare. he frantically snapped his head around, looking to see if the perpetrator had still been around. fortunately his boogeyman was nowhere to be found. jiwoo wiped the cold sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, and looked over at aries sleeping form. seeing how peaceful the other man looked, at least for now calmed jiwoo’s frantic breathing. “i’m sorry for you getting all wrapped up in all of this, you could be staying with your family right now if it wasn’t for me.” the man muttered, leaning up a bit further so he could shuffle back so that he could prop himself up against the walls of the tunnel. he tok a deep breath and shut his eyes. listening to the sound of the heavy rain above had been so soothing. 

“aries, i’m such an idiot.” the man murmured, finally opening his eyes again. he tilted his head back and focused on tiny water droplets that were slipping through some cracks in the brick of the overhang. “i saw chanwoo the other day and i told him off, at least i kind of did. i have no idea why i got so mad at him, but i just got really fed up and left him behind. he offered to help us with staying at some nice place i think? something called share we care.” jiwoo bit his lower lip. “i should have asked him for help because you’re with me but i was so selfish and mad at him for not being mad at me––-it’s really ridiculous. i’m really ridiculous..i could have saved more people in the blue district if i just forced myself a bit more. if i cared about the people that were there just a bit more in sector one but i just kept thinking about how they were so rich and i was so..” poor. just because he could afford to live in the blue district didn’t mean that sector three had been really well off.  jiwoo frowned, not even blinking when a droplet had dropped down to his cheek and then ran down his face. “and i’m an idiot for barely telling you anything about me, and we’re supposed to be best friends. i’m the biggest idiot ever...” jiwoo swallowed the spit in his mouth before taking a deep breath to continue on. “and i don’t think i will be for a while, at least not with you being awake so i’m just going to get it out––this will be like a practice prep for the real thing y’know?” jiwoo explained, tapping his foot now to work out the nerves. “when i was really young my grandparents told me that i was an accident and what does that mean to a kid. i never really thought anything of it until i got older.” he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. “my mom was already married to some guy but she and my dad started an affair. they kept telling me that it was because he was good looking and really gullible and––-yeah.” his voice nearly broke, the tapping of his foot becoming more aggressive now. “a-and to top it all off apparently they started doing drugs together, they just liked doing all this wild and weird stuff. eventually my mom had to go back to her real family though and when she did my dad started to go all crazy and overdosed on something and he died. he’s buried right by our tomato patch––-well he was...he...our tomato patch probably isn’t there anymore.” jiwoo chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “i don’t remember him at all or know at all what he was like––- but i always hear stories about my mom from my grandparents and they hate everything about her to the core and think that she’s a demon and i’m a demon spawn of hers.” 

jiwoo tilted his head back down to stare at the water that cut right through the middle of the tunnel. “and there have been times that my grandmother...she’s tried to kill me and i always thought i was some kind of bad kid who deserved it but she’s sick and my grandfather’s sick in his own twisted way of thinking that i’m beautiful like my mom and he hasn’t––-hasn’t forced himself on me but he utters these strange suggestive things and sometimes his hand lingers on me for so long and...it just makes me feel so disgusting! it’s even worse when my grandmother sees because it’s like i’m getting punished by both of them, and sometimes i can just picture my grandfather finally going through with those weird things that he says to me when he thinks that no one is looking and i hope they’re dead. i hope they were lit on fire and burned––-but they’re probably alive out there and they’re going to find some way to blame me for all of this and they’re going to kill me.” jiwoo didn’t even realize that he’d been crying until his breath hitched. “they’re going to kill me, and i won’t be able to make this up to you––i won’t be able to apologize to chanwoo for leaving him. i don’t want to die aries, i don’t want to die yet.” he sobbed, using his hands to cover his face. he couldn’t stop uttering the same words over and over, until he hand no tears left to cry anymore. 

it was soon morning and the rain had finally come to a stop. for the rest of the night instead of going back to sleep and back to his nightmares he stayed up to watch over his best friend. and when the plant user let out a yawn accompanied by a cat-like stretch jiwoo was back to his mask of pretending that everything was okay. “aries! you can sleep for a lil’ bit longer okay?” jiwoo grinned, slipping his uniforms blazer over his best friend so that he would have a a faux blanket. “want something to eat for breakfast? today’s your lucky day. whatever you request i’ll be ready to get for you.” he cooed, poking the man’s cheek. he got a smile back in return and it was if all his problems had slipped away. 

#jiwoo;; para