#something something if you just keep quiet it’ll stay like this forever i feel certain of it now

[starbuck]

i am literally so happy

#just feeling great #i stayed home tonight and that was a TOP NOTCH decision #i have not had an evening fully OFF since Sunday #so i needed this #got a LOT of shit done #there’s still more to do - but i’m on a great track #AND had lots of time to read and work on Duolingo #i’m about halfway through the book now! #i could be going faster but i want to savor it #i want to stay with it as long as possible #something something if you just keep quiet it’ll stay like this forever i feel certain of it now #NOW i’m gonna refill my water glass and check my laundry and brush my teeth and get in BED #maybe write a few more lines of my fic before i go to sleep #a good day. a real good day

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Chapter 5: Nameless Firebird

“I really appreciate this.” You feel a little like a broken record at this point, but you’re not sure what else you can say. “I feel like I’m managing to show you all my worst traits like some gallery of flaws.”

He chuckles a little, the sound slipping over you soothingly. “You’ll have to be far more direct, Miss (Y/N) if you’re trying to run me off, yoi.”

You feel the rush coil in your stomach a little and laugh nervously. “Ah, haha, yeah I have no qualms about being direct, I promise.”

“You sleep at your office often?” He prompts, shifting the conversation as he turns off the main streets and heads toward your place.

“Not enough to have my own apartment key or anything,” you answer teasingly. “But often enough the owner brought in breakfast for me this morning.”

“It’s good to have a boss that looks out for you like that.” He muses, and you can see the smirk on his face as you laugh.

“Ah, like one who picks up five drinks on his own to keep his staff happy?” You prompt.

“Vet staff operate on coffee and purring kittens.” He assures you.

Oh, to be a purring kitten. You muse to yourself, imagining how you could fit at least six kittens on his shoulders. Eight, if his shoulders weren’t so relaxed.

His car pulls into your, thankfully empty, driveway and you step out as he puts the car in park. He doesn’t make a move to exit so you duck down and look over at him.

“Come inside.” You say, not offering up a choice so much as making a demand. “I’m certain you’re enough of a gentleman you’ll stay put in the living room while I get cleaned up and changed.”

You see his ear go red from your current viewpoint and he smiles. “There’s no easy way to argue that, yoi.” He says with a smile, pulling the keys free of the ignition and stepping out of the car.

You smile as you lead him up to the front door. “More efficient when there’s no room left for argument.”

He chuckles at the statement as you open the door. Wooden floors, a more modern design, and not much aside from basic furniture and some sparse decorations. Your home was a little spartan, but you didn’t really spend much time at home, so you hadn’t seen much of a reason to really dive into it.

It was functional. Functional enough to play host to a dozen people if needed, but any more than that and you’d have to rent extra chairs and maybe consider paper plates.

“Let me start up some coffee before I hop in the shower.” You offer, heading to the kitchen. “The TV’s single remote controlled, I just have a basic package, but you’re welcome to watch something.”

“It’ll be nice to enjoy the quiet,” he assures you. “You don’t have to make coffee just for me.”

“Mm, well, I’m currently all out of kitten purrs, so this’ll have to do.” You say with a smile, pulling down a couple of mugs. “Some fresh coffee will be nice after my shower anyway, so it’s not just for you.”

“In that case, I gladly accept.” He chuckles softly, staying at the edge of the kitchen. “It’s a nice place you have here.”

“Thanks. It was one of the first places built, we had to gut it and rebuild it just before I moved in. Don’t compliment the cleanliness of it,” you say with a smile. “I pay for a service. Or do compliment it,” you add. “They do a great job.”

You point to a sky-blue mug. “You can use this one when the coffee’s ready. There’s sugar, and some creamer in the fridge, but I don’t think you’ll need them.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, two black coffees,” you say, giving him a grin. “Starsky and Hutch don’t strike me as coffee aficionados, your receptionist was probably the macchiato, and for completely different reasons I bet you and the laconic vet both prefer black coffee.”

The look of surprise on Marco’s face turns to a smile and then he laughs. “That’s pretty impressive, yoi.” Those hooded blue eyes of his catch your gaze, and for a split second you can almost feel something akin to talons wrapping around you, but the sensation passes as swiftly as it struck.

“What would those different reasons be, I wonder?”

You grin mischievously for a second before walking toward him, and then patting him on the arm before you continue walking by. “Gonna take that shower now, I hope you enjoy the coffee, Dr. Marco.”

You walk down the hall to your room, stepping inside and closing the door behind you before you exhale into the room.

“Hhhhholy hells.” You sigh into the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You’d flirted before, with more people than just Kid, who had – admittedly – been the center of your verbal jousts for some time. Dealing with Marco wasn’t like finding a new opponent, it was like you’d moved into an entirely new bracket and were scrambling.

You had a sinking feeling that what control you thought you were holding onto was simply out of the man’s benevolence. That relaxed posture of his, the easy way he did everything and the quiet confidence that rolled off of him were dangerous. They were comfortable, and comforting for that matter. It was almost like you were floating peacefully on the water’s surface, completely unaware of the shark swimming by a few feet below.

When Kid pulled you in you knew you were getting tugged. But with Marco…

He could knock on your door and ask to join you for your shower, and you wouldn’t say no. You didn’t even let Kid past your front door for months when you two first started dating. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you trusted him, so much as the act of letting him into your house was equal to letting him into your bedroom.

That’s just how it was between the two of you.

The tension was going to kill you. The desire was going to get you into trouble. You almost wanted to just poke your head out into the hall and ask him to leave. He would. He would with little more than a thank you for the coffee and a tilt of his head.

You’d never see him again. You were certain of it. That’s all the push it would take, and he would be gone, and if you came into the animal hospital, things would be in your control. Professional or confessional.

How easy it would be, to let your desires pass your lips and have that first, sweet, tentative – gods no it wouldn’t be tentative. It would be so soft and sure and –.

You bang your head on the side of the shower. The only thing stopping you from braining yourself into unconsciousness is that there’s only one person who would find you passed out with a welt on your forehead, and honestly you had shown enough of your ass to him already.

Rather your ass was about the only thing you hadn’t shown him. Right now you weren’t too keen on the idea because you really didn’t want that first time to be a collection of unfortunate events like your first meeting had been.

Though, had it really been that unfortunate? Aside from effectively saving that dog, you did meet someone who saw you puke before he even heard your name, and was interested in getting to know you. Seemed interested? Had to be interested.

You level a sharp stare at absolutely no one and nod your head. This is not some sort of misunderstanding. He’s not simply being nice, or polite. There are several ways he could repay your, uh, kindness? That didn’t involve taking you out to dinner.

You really felt as though the entire series of events had left things level and settled. There was, as far as you were concerned, nothing truly left owed one way or another.

Pulling a t-shirt on to go with the cargo jeans you’d already slipped into, you towel dried your hair one more time before walking back out into the living room.

Marco was standing in your living room, looking out the large windows that gave a nice view of the backyard and forest beyond. He was sipping coffee from the sky-blue mug you had indicated to him earlier and apparently, truly, just enjoying the quiet.

“See anything good?” You prompted, pouring a cup of coffee for yourself.

“A few rabbits and some birds.” He admits, turning toward you. “It’s quite the relaxing view.”

“Mm, houses close enough together I know the neighbors by sight, city far enough away there’s a few good hours every day where you don’t hear a single car.” You take a drink of coffee. “Perfect.”

“Your coffee is very good.” He says with a smile, drinking the last of his. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go for dinner?”

“Mm, there are a few places I like.” You admit, smiling at him after you take another drink.

He gives you an expectant look for a moment and then smiles. “Ah, I’m being left on my own.”

“You’re paying the entire tab,” you jab. “It’s only fair you choose. Ah, but still nothing fancy.” You add hastily and are rewarded with another amused smile.

“We have plenty of time still, I would love that look under the hood.” You are being a bit of a brat, but it’s refreshing to tease someone who takes it in stride.

“It would be my pleasure, yoi.”

The two of you get your shoes on, but you forego your coat for now. Marco pops the hood for you and holds it up. You look for the arm to keep it up and quickly realize it either doesn’t exist or broke at some point.

“No arm has to make working on it a pain,” you say leaning in the other side and looking around. It’s almost immaculate inside the engine.

“Had a custom hydraulic arm, but it gave out a couple weeks ago, yoi. Ace nearly decapitated himself forgetting that it was busted so I took it out until the replacement comes in.” He explains.

“Ace is?”

“The youngest.” He says and you give a soft ah, as you keep peering around.

“How often do you clean this engine?”

“Two or three times a year, yoi.” He answers, shifting a bit and resting the hood more on his shoulder. “I’ll rinse the snow and salt off in the winter every day if it’s bad enough, but my brothers help. They’ll wash it pretty often and I just fill in the gaps.

“It was Pops’ car first, so everyone looks out for it, even if I’m the only one that really drives her.” He admits.

“He took good care of her before you inherited it.” You say, coming around closer to where Marco was. “That engine isn’t original, but that’s not surprising.”

“You really like cars.” He muses.

You smile and chuckle a little. “I like old cars.” You clarify. “Seeing how things were, how they’ve progressed. There’s a challenge in keeping something going that isn’t easy to find parts for. I mean, sadly, my car’s in the shop getting the overhaul of its life. But that old girl was mostly rust and dreams when I bought her.”

“I look forward to seeing her.” He says and you realize you’re practically up against him, having shifted all the way around the hood.

Marco moves enough to let you get by him. He’s so tall he’s able to arch over you and keep hold of the hood.  You’re grateful you left your coat in the house, you’d be sweating right now if you had it on.

“Me too. Much as I like old cars, my practical knowledge is completely useless. I can’t restore her, or fix her, so I have to rely on a trusted mechanic.” You admit with a little irritation in your voice.

“Not a friend?”

“Merf.” You make a noncommittal noise, and finally step back letting Marco lower the hood. “Kid’s not not a friend, but he’s a trusted mechanic before much else. We were kind of like a car with square tires.” You muse, giving a clipped laugh. “As long as one of us was on edge, we could go forward. It gave a false sense of functionality.”

“And now?”

“Mm, to keep with the analogy, now we each have our own cars. He’s got Victoria – and I do mean a car – and I have my old Firebird.”

“A nameless Firebird, huh?” Marco prompts as you turn and meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that seems even more intrigued than a few moments ago.

“Even if she had one,” you start, heading back toward the house. “After all the work Kid’s going to do to her, she’d need a new name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, in honor of her rebirth or something. A mark of survival, a statement of resilience.” You continue, kicking off your shoes and stepping further into the hallway. “Unless you’re crazy hungry and want to leave right now, I just want to finish my coffee before we go.”

Marco takes off his shoes and follows behind you. “Take your time. Did you have any names in mind, yoi?”

“Well, I could start calling her my phoenix, but that’s a bit on the nose, especially for a Firebird, of all cars.” You say with a laugh. “Maybe I’ll just name her Tori-chan.”

Marco has his hand over his face when you look over at him, his lips pressed together as he takes in a deep breath slowly and lets it out just as slowly.

“You alright?” You question, tilting your head before taking a gulp of your nearly cold coffee. Good as you were at making a cup of coffee, it wasn’t so hot when it was cold.

“I’m having a small crisis.” He admits, lowering his hand enough to look at you over his palm, leaving his mouth covered. “What do you know about devil fruits?”

You raise your eyebrows a little and tilt your head. “More than most, I imagine. People I work with have eaten one. Kid too. They’re not like, walking around with signs around their necks or anything, but Kid’s certainly not shy about his. They taste awful, they’re incredibly rare, but it seems like pockets of devil fruit users end up congregating, almost like the fruits are a draw to one another.”

You set your coffee cup down and lean against the pantry door, folding your arms and looking over at Marco.

“You’ve eaten one as well, I’m guessing.” You state, all the answer you need is in eyes that don’t look away from yours. “It doesn’t bother me, if you’re worried about that. You don’t even have to tell me what it is until you want to.”

“… I appreciate that.” He says heavily, letting his hand drop all the way down. “I haven’t used it since Pops died, and the clinic opened. Well, I haven’t used it openly.”

You’re quiet, lips pressed together for a moment.

“You have questions.” He says, an easy smile on his face again.

“A great many, but I can stow my curiosity.” You assure him, straightening up and smiling brightly. “Dinner, then?”

“It would be my pleasure, yoi.” He agrees, bowing slightly.

#Birds of a Feather #Marco x reader #x reader #reader insert #marco the phoenix #marco the pinepple #modern au

[minniepetals]

Cry Me A River | Masterpost

— summary: forever is just an illusion, nothing lasts forever. don’t make me a promise that you cannot keep. please...it’ll break my heart

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff, poly!au, mafia!au, arranged marriage!au

— status: ongoing

— word count: 150k+

— warnings: (triggering topics! please read at your own discretion) childhood trauma, mental abuse, physical abuse, child neglect, manipulation, gaslighting, violence, mentions of assault, implied sexual assault, hurt and comfort, divorce, emotional neglect, minor character deaths, kidnapping, some emotionally unstable scenes

↳ there will likely be more specifics in certain chapters. just know that this series highlight some things that can be triggering to some

— please don't go into this thinking it'll be a light read. don't estimate the warnings

— if you happen to read this series despite the warnings and if there are certain chapters you wish to skip rather than reading because of the warnings, feel free to send me an ask if you ever wish to know the gist of certain chapters and i will gladly catch you up so you don't get confused on anything

one. the breaking | you tried so hard to be enough

two. the lie | a house made of cards, they lived in your beautiful fairytale

three. the promise | if you told them about the darkness inside of you, would they still look at you like you're the sun?

four. the gentle heart | keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you

five. the void | no matter how many times you read a story over and over again, it always ends the same

six. the puppeteer | father wanted perfection, you fell in love with disorder

seven. the trial master | the only way to get rid of a buried memory is to face your past

eight. the scarlet drop | you can wipe someone's tears but not their memories

nine. the game of chess | everything's burned down into flames and all that's left is you right in the center, unable to escape

ten. the abuser and the bystander | it hurts just as much knowing someone could have stopped it all but chose to stand by and watch instead

eleven. the thorns of a rose | loyalty means to have full allegiance and faithfulness owned by a duty, a pledge, or a promise. and the reapers' loyalty lies much deeper than that

twelve. the black rose | he loved you once, so hard, but taehyung has no right to begin caring for you now

thirteen. the broken | once someone's been taught to stay quiet their whole life, how do they learn to scream and shout for help?

fourteen. the hurting | you can break something in two seconds but it will take forever to heal

fifteen. the cruel and the fool | nothing hurts more than trying your absolute best and still not being good enough

sixteen. the second choice | an illusion of free choice, it will always be namjoon in the end

seventeen. the liar | hoseok lied about choosing you, namjoon lied about leaving you, but the biggest liar of them all is you

eighteen. the frightened ones | drowning in the middle of the sea means being blind and not knowing who is on your side and who wishes to pull you in deeper

nineteen. the snakes | you're left on your own to save your own self

twenty. the watchers | sometimes to not protect is the best form of protection

twenty-one. the apologies | how many apologies have you heard in your lifetime? too many to count

twenty-two. the pawns | when pawns are used well, they are the soul of the chess. you might as well take advantage of what you’re given

twenty-three. the unprepared | no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

twenty-four. the reckless | in the face of danger, you run right into it

twenty-five. the habits | you are a weapon and weapons do not weep

twenty-six. coming soon...

#bts polyamory #bts poly au #bts ot7 x reader #bts poly #bts mafia #bts mafia au #bts mafia!au #poly bts #poly!bts #bts poly!au #bts polyamorous #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #mafia!bts #mafia!bts au #bts arranged marriage au #bts masterpost

[imkylotrash]

On The Edge

Pairing: Riven x reader

Request: Reader is a water fairy & gets infected by a burned one and riven’s scared that the reader dies. Anonymous

“You know what? I’m done.” People lie when they tell you heartbreak doesn’t kill. You lift your hand to your chest convinced there’ll be a hole from where he ripped your heart out but somehow there’s no injury. 

“You’re done?” It’s masochistic to ask him to repeat it but you just don’t understand how an argument turned into a breakup. You’d mentioned that you were worried about his day drinking which you still are and he’d just lost it. Accused you of wanting to change him and being like everyone else. Clearly, you’d touched a nerve, but you never thought he’d break up with you. 

“I’m just over you always trying to change me. I am who I am.” He grabs his stuff before running out the door. Your feet seem glued to the floor because every time you try to follow him, your feet refuses to move. Maybe it’s the shock holding you in place. 

“What just happened?” Sky asks. Of course, he heard everything. He’s probably been waiting out in the hallway waiting for the fight to be over with. 

“We should get going.” You’re not ready to say it out loud. 

“I thought you said it was a bad idea?” 

“I changed my mind.” You grab his sword and hands it to him. Yesterday, Sky asked you if you were up for a little hunting in the woods to help Silva. You’d told him it was a bad idea and to let the adults handle it, but now you’d do anything to just get out of here. 

“Hey,” he says grabbing your arm, “no distractions. We have to focus when we go out there.” You squash the small voice in your head telling you not to go. 

“I’m fine, really.” You even plaster on a smile to convince him and poor Sky, who is desperate to help Silva, believes you. As you head out, you leave a note for Riven in case he comes back to tell him where you’ve gone and that you want to talk when you get back. It’s just that you don’t return in any condition to talk to him. You don’t remember Sky carrying you back to school or Mr. Harvey treating your wounds. For a while all you feel is pain. Your body is on fire and you’re screaming for someone to help you but it’s no use.

“Baby, I’m right here.” You try to locate the voice but it seems so far away. He keeps talking but you’re in and out of consciousness. 

“Please just open your eyes. I’m so sorry.” He keeps talking but you can’t hear him. The next time you’re conscious, you manage to open your eyes. Even in his sleep, Riven is clutching your hand. You try to feel out in the room but you can’t get a sense of water anywhere. Panic settles in your body. You’ve never been without water in your entire life, even just a glass of water would be enough for you to feel calm. Being in touch with your element keeps you calm but now you can’t feel it at all. 

Riven,” you croak trying to move despite the pain. Immediately, he’s awake asking what you need. 

“Water.” He runs out the door and returns with a glass of water. Just the feeling of it entering the room calms you down. 

“We had to remove everything with water in it while Ben treated the wounds. Your powers were all over the place,” Riven explains grabbing your hand once again. Silence settles in the small room as you drink the water but you don’t need Riven to say it out loud for you to know; you’re not healing. 

“Is Sky okay?” you ask and Riven nods. 

“He brought you back to school. He saved your life,” Riven says in a bitter tone.

“I’m so sorry for what I said,” he whispers finally looking at you. He’s seconds from crying and miles from how he normally acts in situations like these. 

“I didn’t mean any of it. I was angry and I took it out on you. When I came back, you were gone. I kept thinking if something happened to you, it’d be my fault.” 

“Riven, no one is at fault here except me. It was my decision to go out there. I’m sorry I scared you but I’ll be fine.” He keeps quiet and you realise there’s something he’s not telling you. 

“What is it?” you ask wondering if you’re even ready to hear what he’s about to say. Judging by the grim look on his face, it’s not going to be pleasant. 

“They were hunting in groups. Sky managed to kill one but the other got you. Silva’s out hunting for the one who hurt you.” 

“But that’s good news. Sky got the one who injured Silva,” you say not understanding why Riven looks ready to cry. If anyone can find the Burned One, Silva is the one for the job. He used to hunt these during the dark years. 

“We’re running out of time,” Riven says and it hits you like a brick. Sure, Silva is good at hunting these things - maybe even the best - but there’s only so much time before Mr. Harvey can’t keep the infection from spreading. You might die and all you can think about is how much it’ll destroy Riven. 

“There’s hope until the very end, Riven. If you don’t give up, I won’t.”

“Never.” He leans in and kisses your forehead. He’s being as gentle as possible but your entire skin is on fire. You smile promising yourself that as soon as you get a second alone, you’ll get to shed a tear. But right now you remain strong as you look at Riven who’s turned into a complete mess. Your heart breaks for the boy he truly is at heart and how scared he is of people leaving him. 

“Hey,” you say grabbing his chin to make him look at you, “I’m not going anywhere. We have to trust that Silva knows what he’s doing.” You take a deep breath signalling for Riven to do the same. Every breath adds to your pain but it’s worth it if it helps Riven cheer up. What hurts you more than anything is the pain in his eyes. For a moment, it looks like it actually helps then Sky enters. 

“You’re awake,” he states in a surprised tone. 

“I hear you saved my ass out there,” you say hoping to keep the conversation light, “thank you.” 

“Wasn’t easy. Had to drag your ass all the way through the forest. I’ll send you the check from my chiropractor.” You start laughing but it turns into a cough and immediately Riven’s frown makes a return. 

“You should take a shower, handsome. You smell.” Sky laughs locking eyes with you for a brief moment before helping Riven to his feet. 

“I’ll help you to our room, but you gotta handle the shower part on your own,” Sky teases and you’re forever thankful that your hunting partner knows you this well. Although, Riven protests it only takes Sky minutes to drag him out of the room. You finally allow yourself to feel the pain from your wounds. Trying to seem fine is taking its toll on you. Five minutes of self-pity and you’re done. You tell yourself over and over as you try to face the fact that you might not make it through this time. When Sky returns, you’re not quick enough to dry away the tears. 

“He’s showering, you still have a few minutes,” he says quickly and you fall back against the pillows. 

“I don’t want to die,” you whisper admitting the one thing you’ll never be able to admit to Riven. He needs you to be strong but there’s no shame in falling apart in front of Sky. 

“Don’t talk like that. Silva will find the Burned One and kill it.” Ever the fixer trying to see the positive. 

“He doesn’t have much time. I feel it in my bones. It’s spreading and soon Harvey won’t be able to stop it.” Sky tugs a strand of hair behind your ear with a pitiful look in his eyes. He knows you’re right and he knows it’ll destroy Riven. 

“There’s still time. Saul sent word that they were tracking one up North. It might be the one,” Sky offers with a smile. He’s giving you hope when there is none. You know you won’t make it through another night with these wounds. Your fever is too high for your body to keep up. 

“There’s a letter in a shoebox under my bed in case I don’t make it. Please give it to Riven.” You’ve always known that being a fairy comes with certain dangers so you didn’t want to leave unprepared. 

“What are you talking about?” Riven is standing by the door looking like he might break something. “What letter?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you say trying to sit up straight. 

“Give us a minute, Sky.” He sends you an apologetic look as he leaves the room. Riven sits down next to you awfully calm. It’s the calm right before he explodes and you’re not sure you’re ready for it. 

“What letter?” he asks again making it clear that he’s not going to drop this. 

“I wrote you a letter in case I was ever injured and didn’t...” 

“In case you didn’t make it? But you said there was hope!” His voice is shaking but you’re not sure if it’s from anger or heartbreak. 

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to prepare for every outcome. I-” 

“There’s one outcome and that’s you staying alive. Do you hear me?” You bite your tongue and nod. The last thing you need is for the two of you to argue when you might not wake up tomorrow. Instead you pat the empty space next to you and smile. 

“Just be careful,” you whisper as he gently crawls into bed with you. He falls asleep there and at some point, even you fall asleep despite the pain getting worse. You don’t expect to wake up the next day but you do. The fever broke at some point during the night and the foul smell of your wounds have gone away. Not daring to hope you slowly lift up your shirt to find beautiful, pink skin rather than ugly slashes. 

“Riven!” you yell out in excitement. 

“What?” He’s awake in seconds looking for the danger. 

“Saul did it. He found the right one,” you exclaim lifting up your shirt to show him the healing wounds. Your hands are shaking as you cup his cheeks and kiss him. You’re going to be alright. 

“As soon as Mr. Harvey clears you, we’re burning that letter. You don’t get do die on me, alright? Not before we’re old and grey.” You can’t help but smile at the thought of growing old with Riven. 

“Okay.”

#riven x reader #riven blurb #riven gif #riven imagine #riven #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #winx club #winx saga #winx blurb #fate winx #winx sky

[swiftsalchemy]

Snow White - Diluc Ragnvindr

A/N: I had a dream about this last night & ever since I couldn't help but think about it. so now I'm writing this to make sure it gets stuck in your head too. remember to drink water! :) also this may not be written the best since I’m really sick atm and a little out of it.

summary: diluc ragnvindr is in love with you and a certain brunette woman gets a little too jealous

pairings: diluc ragnvindr x female!reader

warnings: poison, themes of death, fluff

word count: 3.7k words

    It was safe to say that you were the most desirable woman in Mondstadt. Not only were you pretty, but you were kind and incredibly friendly. You also were quite the hard worker - always going out of your way to help others in need. Despite working as Lisa’s assistant in the library from the early hours in the morning to late at night, whenever you got a break, you would always head into the center of Mondstadt and help any way you could. Your most favorite person to help out was Diluc Ragnvindr.

    You often stopped by the Angel’s Share on your breaks and would help serve people drinks to ease the workload on other’s in there - even Diluc himself. Due to this, you often saw Diluc and you two grew rather close. Even though you were a worker in the Knights of Favonious, he admired how desperate you were to help those who lived in Mondstadt whenever you could. Plus, you were always so kind to others - no matter how rude anyone else was to you. 

    Occasionally during your late nights helping Diluc at Angel’s Share, you two would share those special moments. You two never kissed nor brought it up to each other after the fact. However, your meeting gazes, almost too close bodies, and hands overlapping or bumping into each other caused you both to slowly fall for each other. 

    Diluc often would be extra sweet to you and bring you lunch and gifts while you were at work. Sure, he didn’t like being in the Knights of Favonious building but if it meant that you were taken care of while you were at work it brought him a peace of mind. Rumors spread like wildfire around Mondstadt that you were Diluc’s girlfriend. You both always denied the rumors, but your actions towards each other made the entire town not believe you two. 

    Most of Mondstadt liked the idea of you two being together, two hard-working citizens finding comfort in each other. However, there was one woman who despised you for getting so close to Diluc, Donna. She believed you had used witchcraft on the firey red-head and bewitched him into dating you ( which you weren’t even in that kind of relationship anyway ). So, she wanted to take the matter into her own hands and end whatever relationship you and Diluc were sharing.

    Donna had heard of a local witch that lived just outside of Mondstadt who specialized in poisons. One night, Donna had left the stone walls that echoed the whispers with the rumors about yourself and Diluc, her recallings of everyone talking about you two only fueled her enragement more. She walked over the stone bridge and into the nearby forest. She had only a dagger and a lantern that emitted a yellow glow out into the dark woods. Unlike you, she had no hydro vision that balanced out with Diluc’s pyro vision so well. She was just a normal girl who lived a very unimportant life.

   Eventually, Donna made it to the wooden cottage where the witch lived. It was so dark and menacing looking ( even with her lantern lighting up the building ). A part of her wanted to turn around and go back into her safe home. However, she would never turn away this chance to make you pay for stealing her precious Diluc away. 

    The woman gingerly approached the rotting wooden door of the cottage and raised her fist, knocking it softly against the door. Donna waited a few seemingly long moments, her heart racing with each fleeting second. Slowly, the door had opened before Donna and a tall, youthful woman stood before her. The woman looked around her mid-twenties and had black hair that flowed from her scalp to beautifully. There wasn’t a single dark curl that was out of place. Glowing yellow eyes peered at Donna as she sized the visitor up. 

    “ Let me guess what you’re here for, one of my varying poisons, no?” The tall woman asked, her voice melting in Donna’s ear. It was so collected and warm - it matched perfectly with the vibe the woman had.

    Donna nodded, “ yes ma’am. I need a poison that’ll kill the woman who seeks to take away my lover,” she answered, her previous rage was bubbling back up in her chest. Donna despised you.

    The witch laughed, raising a pale hand to cover her red-stained lips. “ None of my poisons kill. However, they all are extremely difficult to reverse the effects of. It’ll take far much more than an antidote to wake your victim up from their deep slumber. “ For a moment, the woman disappeared back into her dark cottage. Donna narrowed her eyes, trying to find the woman and see what she was doing. However, it didn’t take very long for the witch to come back to the door. This time, she held a woven basket filled to the brim with apples in her fragile hands.

    “ Here, these will do your job perfectly. Just give one to your victim and watch as your victim chokes on the poison-filled apple and falls into a deep slumber,” she spoke, holding the basket out to Donna. 

    Donna took the basket, holding the handle tightly in her free hand. “ How much do I pay you?”

    The woman shook her head, “ there’s no need for that. I do not require payment, Mora is unnecessary to me. “

    “ Oh- ok. Thank you ma’am, I really appreciate it,” Donna said before the witch nodded and closed the door on Donna - ending their conversation. The brunette smiled slyly as she looked down at the basket with poisoned apples in her hands. Finally, she would get her revenge on you. Making everyone believed you had died and then she would swoop in and be the shoulder Diluc cried on. From there, she would make him fall for her. It was a perfect, foolproof plan.

    Donna eventually made her way back to Mondstadt. She blew out the light on her lantern and slid her hood further down to cover her face. She knew around this time you would just be walking home from Angel’s Share. It was the perfect place to poison you, no one would be awake to see it. 

    She spotted you approaching your house, and Donna began to make her way over to you. “ Y/N!” She called out excitedly, acting as if you two were the best of friends. The woman was excited, not to see you but to see you suffer right in front of her eyes. 

    You turned your gaze to look at Donna, a bright smile adorning your face. “ Donna, hey!” You called out back, making sure to keep quiet and not wake up your neighbors. “ What’s up? Is something wrong?” You asked Donna as the woman approached you.

    “ No... No, nothing’s wrong. I was just out apple picking, people say they’re best picked at night, and I wanted to have you try one. I trust your judgement and wanted your insight on if I should put them in a pie or not,” Donna explained, trying to make sure that you couldn’t tell she was lying about the situation.

    You eagerly nodded. “ Sure, I’d love to! I’m pretty hungry anyway,” you responded, your voice so full of kindness and innocence. For a moment, Donna almost felt bad about doing this. However, she couldn’t risk you getting with DIluc and taking him away from her forever. 

    Donna took the shiny red apple on top and handed it over to you, another wicked smile coming onto her lips as she watched you take the red apple with your hand and hold it up to your lips - taking a large bite out of it.

    An initial taste of sweetness hit your mouth and you were about to tell Donna how good it tasted when suddenly the chunk of apple got stuck in your throat and a new bitter taste emerged. Everything that was in your hands dropped to the stone pavement below you as you lifted your hands to your throat. Trying to cough up the bite of apple that was stuck in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and the bitter taste was getting worse by the second. Your eyes met Donna’s for a brief moment and the friendliness that was once in her eyes got replaced by pure hatred and amusement of your suffering. You felt betrayed, someone you trusted had just fed you a poisoned apple and was smiling about it.

    Diluc, who wanted nothing but your safety, had followed you home. Always staying a good distance away so you couldn’t tell that he was following you. When he turned the corner to look at your doorway, expecting to see you enter your him, his heart dropped when he saw your body stumbling back and a cloaked figure standing before you.

    Donna glanced behind you, her body panicking when she saw a familiar firey red-head rushing in her direction - having just watched the whole thing unfold. She quickly turned away and began sprinting away from the scene. The last thing she wanted was Diluc knowing that she was the one behind the whole thing. 

    Just as you were about to fall backward onto the pavement, losing most of your body strength and consciousness, Diluc had just gotten to you and caught you in his arms. He held you tightly, your back resting on his forearms. He almost though about chasing after whoever did this to you, but the moment his eyes saw your struggling body and pained face any desire to chase your attack vanished. Now, all Diluc wanted was to get you to help. He wasn’t about to see another person he loved so dearly die in his arms again. 

    He lifted you up in his arms, holding you bridal style and he briskly began to make his way to the church. Diluc didn’t know how to help you and he knew that one of the sisters would be there and could get you to Barbara to help. Every step he took, he moved his legs faster and faster - feeling your breathing slow and seeing your eyes start to close. The apple chunk had almost finished dissolving, leaving poison now running into your system. As he ran, flashback’s from his father’s death began replaying in his head. He couldn’t let you die, he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

     Diluc had just barged into church, startling all of the sisters that were inside praying, when you had succumbed into your deep slumber. The sisters had quickly rushed over to Diluc, staring at your seemingly lifeless looking body.

    “ Get Barbara please,” Diluc said, some what annoyed by their lack of action. At once, one of the sisters left and rushed into a side door of the church. Moments later, she returned with Barbara and Acting Grandmaster Jean.

    Jean was startled to see Diluc standing in the church looking so distressed. Until her gaze fell on your body being held tightly in his arms. “ What happened?” she asked as the trio got closer.

    “ I was following Y/N home as usual when I saw her stumbling away from a cloaked figure. When I got to her, she was struggling to breathe and losing all consciousness. Can you help her?” He asked, trying to keep himself composed. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to see him get upset.

    Barbara nodded, “ I can take a look at her. Do you know what the person might’ve given her?” she asked as Jean carefully took your body from Diluc’s arms and held them tightly in hers. After that, she began to carry you to the infirmary. 

    “ No- But I can go back and see if there was anything left behind that would’ve caused this. I’ll be right back, “ Diluc responded back to Barbara. At once, he exited the church and ran back to the front of your house just as quick as he ran leaving there. He looked around on the dark ground, looking for anything that looked like it could harm someone. 

    At first, he almost went back to the church empty handed when the gleam of  a round object hit his gaze. Diluc walked over to the object and crouched down and grabbed the object. Upon closer inspection, it was an apple with a bite taken out of it. He lifted the apple to his nose and inhaled the scent from the bite. There was an overwhelming amount of sweetness, that would’ve masked a bitter smell if Diluc wasn’t used to sniffing out different scents from his wines. He took the apple away from his face, furrowing his eyebrows. There was no doubt that this is what the person used to harm you. The apple was laced with something. Standing back up, Diluc once again made his way back to the church.

    Back inside the church, Jean set you down on one of their open beds. Staring down at you sadly, feeling sympathetic for Diluc. Despite his greatest efforts, Jean knew that he was distressed. The others may not have, but she could see it as clear as a sunny day. Barbara entered the infirmary shortly and took a seat next to the bed you laid on. The younger girl looked at you, studying your body movements. You looked still, as if you were dead, but the girl felt a faint heartbeat. You were still very much alive. 

    The familiar red-head came back to the church, this time bringing an apple with him. “ This was all I found. It’s not a normal apple - there’s an unusual scent on it,” He explained to Jean and Barbara, handing it over to them.

    “ Thank you for bringing this to us. I’ll have Albedo and Sucrose take a look at it later,” Jean said, nodding her head at Diluc. “ If anyone can find out what’s something’s made up of - it’ll be those two. I know you don’t like the Knights of Favonious, but please, put your trust in us this once. We’ll figure out what’s wrong I promise. I suggest you go back home and get some rest, go back to your daily life. It’ll be a while before we can try anything to get Y/N back to good health.”

     Diluc didn’t trust the Knights. They had let him down in a time of need and they could very well do it again. However, he did trust Jean and if she made a promise, she would see that her promise got fulfilled. “ Alright,” he gave in, letting out a tired sigh. “ Please, as soon as you find something out. Let me know.”

    “ I will,” Jean told him, giving the man a tired but honest smile. With that, Diluc said his goodbyes and walked out of the church. 

                                                    _______________

    Albedo and Sucrose eventually came back with the results of their testing they did on the apple. They had discovered that there was a poison inside of it. Not a deadly one, but something to keep a person quiet for a very long time.

    The citizens of Mondstadt took quick notice of your absence everywhere and was constantly asking Knights where you were. So much so, that Jean had to release an official statement that you were currently terribly sick and bed-ridden for a long time. Which wasn’t that far from the truth. Barbara and the rest of the sisters had all tried their hardest to find some antidote for the poison that seemed to ever linger in your system but to no avail. It’s like there was no cure and you were doomed to stay in this state forever.

    As much as Diluc tried not to, he couldn’t help but lose faith in you ever waking up again. Donna had seen his saddened state and couldn’t help but smile to herself, her plan was working. However, as much as she tried to get close to Diluc and be the person he vented to - all of her efforts were for nothing. The man didn't want to talk to anyone that he didn’t have to. Her grand plan had his a wall. Especially when one day Barbara barged through the doors of Angel’s Share, a brand new idea on how to wake you up.

     The blonde approached the bar Diluc was working at, heavy breaths coming out of her mouth due to the fast running she had just stopped doing. “ Diluc... I have... an idea...” Barbara said in between pants. 

    Diluc looked at the Deaconess furrowing his eyebrows at his words. Had she really come up with something that might wake you up? “ What is it?”

    “ You know, in those fairytales about how true love’s kiss is the strongest thing? Well, what if you...” She trailed off, hoping Diluc picked up on what she was saying. It sounded childish, but it worked in every fairytale she read so who says it can’t work now?

    “ You want me to kiss Y/N in hopes that’s what can wake her up?” Diluc asked in disbelief. He set down the glass tankard he was cleaning on the wooden top of the bar. 

   “ Yes, I believe it’s worth a shot.” The two stood across from each other in a long silence. Before Diluc nodded, letting out a sigh. Barbara smiled at his agreement to the idea. Jean was actually the one who encouraged Barbara to bring it up to Diluc, she knew he was desperate and would try anything. No matter how outlandish it seemed. 

    The two made the all-too familiar walk to the church in silence. They entered the infirmary, Diluc frowned at the state of you still under the spell of the poison. He thought for a brief moment that maybe this was all just a hoax and when they arrived at the church, you would actually be awake. However, his hopes were false and this crazy idea Barbara had was really a possible antidote.

     Jean looked up from her pile of work once she heard the footsteps enter the infirmary. She gave Diluc a tired smile and stood up from her seat, stretching slightly. “ Barbara and I will leave you two alone. I do hope this works,” Jean said softly, walking past Diluc and grabbing Barbara’s hand as they left. Leaving only Diluc and your almost still body alone in the room.

    “ This is bizarre,” Diluc whispered to himself as he approached your bed and looked down at you. He leaned down, his face hovering only inches above yours. Slowly, he closed his eyes and closed the remaining distance, connecting his lips and yours. He kept his pressed against your soft ones for a few seconds, resting the palm of his hand on your cheek.

    A few moments passed and he opened his eyes, standing back up. He watched your body for a moment, biting his bottom lip in anticipation as he waited for something to happen. Just as he was about to leave the room in defeat, a twitch of your eyelids made his chest soar with happiness.

    Slowly, your body was starting to wake up. Your eyes fluttered open and the the first thing you saw was the cream colored ceiling of the building you were in. 

   “ Y/N...?” A voiced called out from your side and you slowly flickered your gaze to your right, seeing Diluc standing next to you. His face contorted with disbelief and happiness. You quickly sat up, moving to stand up, when Diluc’s strong arms had picked you up. He pulled you into a tight hug as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

    Diluc held you in his arms for a long time, not wanting to let go of you anytime soon. It felt like hours before he gently unwrapped his arms around you - only pushing you far enough away so he could see your face. The man tenderly put a gloved hand on your face and another on your hip, looking into your eyes with his that were full of love.

    You remembered what had happened that night all up until entering the church. You didn’t know how you woke up or how long it was from Donna feeding you that apple to now. 

    “ Diluc, how did I wake up? What happened after I came here?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

     “ Well, we found out that you ate a poisoned apple, Barbara and the other sisters tried everything to wake you up. Eventually, Barbara came up with the idea of a true love’s kiss...” he trailed off, feeling slightly embarrassed about it.  “ That’s what worked.”

    You only nodded, trying to hide the smile that wanted to appear on your face. “ Than you, for waking me up.” You two continued to stare at each other, adoration and love in both of your eyes. Without even thinking, Diluc leaned back down and put his lips against yours. You almost instantly melted into the kiss, enjoying the warmth of his lips being on yours brought.

     “ Oh my- are we interrupting something?” One of the sisters said, startled by the scene that was before her. Diluc and yourself quickly pulled away from each other - your cheeks a matching shade of red.

    “ Uh no... we were just leaving. I wanna get Y/N back home safely now that she’s awake. Tell Barbara and Jean that she’s better now and to visit the Dawn Winery if they wanna ask  her questions or visit her,” Diluc said, taking his hands off of your face and waist and grabbing her hand with one of them.

    Together the two fled the church, unknowing that Barbara and Jean were right there watching as the two lovers were rushing off with each other. The two sisters looked at each other and smiled, it’s always the craziest of ideas that worked out in the end. 

                                                   _______________

     Despite eventually going back to work and living your normal life, Diluc was much more protective over you now. He made you live at the winery with him and would escort you everywhere. Especially if it was at night. He promised that he wouldn’t let history repeat itself. He would keep you safe at all costs. 

#diluc imagine #diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc headcanons #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc fluff #genshin diluc #diluc #Genshin #genshin impact #gensin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine #genshin imagine #anime imagine #anime imagines #imagine #fairytale au

[cinnamonest]

please spare more crumbs for the sex slave au with diluc and kaeya's meimei,,

Thank you for giving me permission to be more depraved this is from forever ago but I'm slowly getting the "forever ago" stuff done lol

I love the concept tho, especially Crepus buying a lil qt and having to teach them how to be good masters bc they’re both dumb clueless boys, bless.

TWs: slavery, implied incest or pseudo-incest, could give vibes as under//age (nothing is specified but I guess it could strike some people that way so I wanna be cautious), noncon/dubcon, mentions of anal, misogynistic, awful depraved and nasty -------------------------------------

God. The arguing. The rivalry. The chaos. Like, with some poly yanderes/owner/master relationships, the two work *together* and focus attention on controlling *you,* but these two are... not like that. They have a lot of rivalry going on half the time.

Now, this could be Crepus buying a slave and basically indoctrinating her as a meimei, but of course, if you actually are one of the boys' bio sis, the one is gonna claim some authenticity - you know, the whole "well she's my real sister, not yours, so I get to fuck her more" kind of thing. The other appeals to "well she's your real sister which makes you worse," and it devolves into arguing back and forth about whether or not the blood relation makes them more or less justified in sticking their dick in you and claiming more rights to meimei's time and attention. Not just to each other either, it's also directed at you -- the whole "hey, I'm your real big brother, so you should spend more time with me than him" kind of thing. It actually can get pretty annoying over time, you have to constantly be soothing not one but TWO egos in desperate need of affirmation. But here I’m going more with the idea of Crepus just buying them a sweet meimei. Diluc's more... patient. He teaches you "touch commands" -- little learned gestures, like a dog. Just the lightest touch on your spine and you know it's a clear message to arch your back, a hand under your chin and thumb pressed against it has you instinctively opening your mouth, a tap to the back of your neck and you kneel. Little gestures that can bend your body and mind with minimal effort. Despite that though, Kaeya is actually the master of The Look™ - the kind that can make you go quiet and apologize in a mere instant when given. But because you know it, expect him to be even harsher if you defy it. Sometimes in your little tantrums you get so mad that you'll have the audacity to ignore that look and keep whining or being a brat which does not end well.

Meimei is what you call free use - any time, anywhere. One of the most important lessons Crepus told you when he first got you/when you were old enough is that you are never to deny the boys any of your holes if they want it. This is just as important for the boys to learn as it is you, he's a big believer in the whole, "if you act like a good proper master, the slave will naturally fall into their role too" sort of thing, so he teaches them to be forceful and dominating, not hesitant to do what they want -- if they're clear on what they want and make known their expectation of your obedience (and the subtle implication of threat of punishments if not complied with), you'll fall into the submissive role you're meant for and naturally want to submit to them like a good little wife-sister-slave.

So, whenever one of them beckons you over, you smile and ask them how you can help. Your brothers work so hard, and it's the least you can do to take care of their needs. Sometimes they just want you to sit on their lap, wrap your arms around them, sit there a while in silence when they're sad, sometimes they want to vent to you about things when they're frustrated, sometimes they want to use you. Of course, the former two usually leads to the last anyway. You're... emotional support pussy. There's important rules and practices to be followed, it's actually rules for all three of you, several apply to them, actually, as Crepus taught you before he died, and it's become second nature for the boys (it works in their benefit, after all). #1. You can never be left alone. There's a lot of reasons for this, but primarily it's in your instinct to get fucked, all you know how to do is take cock, so if you were left alone you may very well go running off and jump onto the first thing with a dick, and they can't have that. So basically you either have to be with one of them, within their sight, or accounted for in some way - there's a couple of installed tethering hooks and the like on the walls  in several areas of the house you can be attached to. But, really, they're not usually necessary, with two very horny males running around you're busy most of the time, even if it's a more passive task. You spend a lot of time sitting on someone's lap, sometimes taking naps throughout the day with whoever decides they're tired at the moment. So, you spend more or less every waking moment with one or both -- well, every sleeping moment too, of course you don't have you own room. You alternate nights between the two just like you were told to. There's not really any task you do alone. Bathing? It's always gotta be with one or the other. Sleeping? Always with one or the other. Even when you're cooking -- because obviously you do that, they wouldn't even know how to, since you've always done it -- one is always standing beside you, talking to you, or sitting a ways over in a chair as they vent about their day. Oh, speaking of that, as aforementioned, you're there for emotional burdens too. When one has had a long day, what would they do if meimei wasn't there for them to vent and whine and complain to? You've always been taught to be a good listener. Don't interrupt. Listen to everything and don't zone out. Don't oppose their actions when they're telling you about their problems, always tell them they were in the right and comfort them. Smile while you listen. That's how you were trained to respond when one of them has some burden to unload on you. Always offer your body to make them happy. That's the last part, and they've never not taken you up on the offer. That being said, sometimes you have to... motivate them. Push a little bit. You see, you're just so sweet that sometimes your brothers might want to just spend the entire day in bed with you. So you have to motivate them to do their actual work. Tell them that if they don't go to work, if they stay in bed all day inside you, how are you supposed to clean the house and make dinner for them? So they sigh and accept you're right and go off to work after all. And, again, the rule is important for them too. You can never run off on your own, but they're also vigilant not to ever leave you alone. When you're first bought, Crepus had to constantly pull them back inside the house when they'd go to another room for something because see, you're leaving her all alone and she's going to go running off and it'll be your fault. So they had to be conditioned to communicate and make sure you were always accounted for, taught how to restrain you properly. If you were left in a room, Crepus would come by to make sure they remembered to lock you inside, would test the tightness of your leash if you were tethered to something, and sigh and chastise if one of them neglected to do it right. #2. No getting off on your own, this is a rule they have to help enforce. It's a waste - you have TWO big brothers, surely one of them is always going to be available and eager, so really, getting yours without either of them involved is pretty selfish, and worthy of punishment if found doing so. If for whatever reason they're all too busy, you have the option of asking permission to ride and grind on their thigh, but no cumming until they're done with their task and are available to properly handle it. Crepus is particularly adamant about this rule, as well as enforcing the same mentality in them, doesn't think it's appropriate for a girl to be so selfishly absorbed with pleasure when she should  be giving it to the men that own her. For one, a girl should be spending all of her time dedicated to serving her masters in some way, and two, they're both needy boys that would be eager to fuck you at any time. So really, masturbating is an act of defiance and will be dealt with as such. #3. No favoritism! There will be times where you may feel mad at one or the other, and sure you have different levels of how much you can tolerate certain behaviors... But, you have to train yourself against that. Meimei should have no limits of what she can tolerate - that's part of your whole purpose. So even when you're mad at one, you can't try to avoid that one and go to the other, you still need to divide your time, energy, and body equally. Don't talk bad about one to the other, don't try to spend more time with one or the other at any time. This also includes pitting them against each other through jealousy, it's a huge no-no. Don't try to make one jealous of the other. If they catch you doing that, sooner or later they'll realize what you're doing, and deal with it, usually harshly, since it's seen as a high-ranking offense. In fact, you really shouldn't be mad, ever. Your big brothers know what's best for you, so if you're mad over a disagreement, you just need to accept that they're right and you're wrong and that you need to submit to their will. Outwardly showing you're upset is bratty behavior, things like pouting or giving them the cold shoulder are punishable offenses. #4. You're also a peacekeeper. Diffuse fights. Both of your big brothers can be... stubborn, prideful individuals. This leads to pretty regular conflict over this and that. It's meimei's job to help with that, calm them down with a smile on your face. Or, if it works better, with some tears and a quivering lip. Please don't fight, you say with watery eyes, sniffling, and well, they can't help but feel bad, they both turn their attention to you rather than to each other and apologize for making you upset.  And if they're having one if their regular it's my turn kind of arguments, your job is to propose the easy solution of sharing. You have more than one hole to fuck, and can easily cuddle one on each side. It should be an obvious solution. Oh, and they fight sometimes over who gets to do what, who spends time with you, but doing different things rather than both wanting to do the same thing. One is sitting at his desk to work and he can't be expected to focus on work without meimei sitting on his lap and cockwarming him of course, but the other says he wants to take a nap and how is he supposed to sleep if he can't rest his head on meimei's tits? There is only so much of her to go around! But they will legit adjust their schedules to make sure they get alone time. And are very nitpicky about it -- wait why do *you* get an extra hour on Tuesday?? If you get that I deserve an extra hour on Thursday -- that sort of thing. You're supposed to be able to propose such ideas. It's your job to come up with solutions that make everyone happy. You can cockwarm one brother while he works and tell the other that hey, if he postpones the nap, you can just ride him until he cums and can sleep right? Things like that. #5 Actually isn't for you, it's for them, regarding punishment. When Crepus got you, the poor boys didn't really know how to go about doing it, so they had to be taught. It's important to be a good master and know how to do so adequately, you know? To not let anger get the better of them and go too far, since sometimes they might get too mad about something. In fact, a good trick, he teaches them, is to just tie you up, and go blow off some steam before coming back to punish you. That way they won't go too far, and you'll have to wait around in fear for a while, which just helps the punishment sink in better. But at the same time, don't go too light. No matter how much you whimper, he says, don't feel pity for her and go lax. It's intentional, it's just your nature to try and fake-cry to try and get out of it. You did something bad, so they shouldn't feel bad about it, even if you cry and squeal. It's the right thing to do. You're supposed to cry, you're supposed to say it hurts and whimper, that just means they're doing it right. But of course, there's some sensitivities to be taught. If they have you bent over a knee, they have to make sure to only hit your ass and the back of your thighs, make sure not to go up too high and hit your back, since that could cause injury. If they're gonna fuck your ass as punishment, make sure to use a certain amount of lube. Things like that, it's important to be good masters, just as much as it is your job to be a good little slave.

And to remember, of course, that meimei is... an inferior little creature. Don't get mad at her just because she's stupid and doesn't understand this or that, that's not her fault. She can't be expected to be smart or responsible, that's their job. But also, don't feel pressured to give her what she wants just because she wants it or anything. And, most importantly, don't start having self-doubt and ever think she might be right about something while they're wrong, because obviously that can't be the case. You might get defiant and try to insist you know better than them, act like you're just as capable of something as they are, or think your opinions matter or something, but in that case, they have a responsibility to remind you of your place.

#tw: incest #tw: misogyny #lena's asks #atml #.meimei

[contorted-curruptions]

*-Mug Shot-*-Poly KiriBaku X reader-*-part one-*

Note: Surprise Saturday, I got carried away with the story and thought it might be best to section it off in two parts so you’ll be getting this one and another post tomorrow peeps, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a story like this one. Smut is not in this one so if you are looking for that you’ll find it tomorrow, until then please feel free to enjoy this. Also all characters are aged up and the time the story takes place is when they are already pro heroes, so keep that in mind.

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Running, running, the sound of bare feet harshly pounding across the hard surface of the ground below. The pavement cold and merciless on your bare feet, you feel the damage from all the running with no shoes.  As you run the sound of your terror echoes out across the soundless night, the streets so empty, not like how they usually are in the daytime. Not a soul will hear you and if they do it’ll be a little too late. It’s dark and only the street lights give you any semblance of where you are going. You hear and feel your heartbeat pounding away in your chest, that feeling becoming more painful with each pound. You feel yourself falter a bit more but you can’t afford to stop, can’t afford to stop running even for a minute. You know they have to be hot on your tail, know they won’t waste time in giving chase once they know you have fled the scene, that most horrifying scene that you left behind. The images flash through your mind as you ran churning your stomach and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. You stifle a sob but that makes your chest clench most painfully but worst of all in this panic while you turn into an alleyway you haven’t noticed the glass scattering across the entrance of the alley. Though you become sorely aware of it once your feet make contact with the shards causing you to let out a scream at the pain shooting through the fresh wounds the glass makes. You wind up tumbling to the ground, you scuff up your hands and knees as you make contact earning more painful noises from you. You fell unceremoniously on the ground in a small heap. Those sobs you kept in achingly inside your chest burst out and you howl out, hot tears now streaming down your face.

For a moment you lose your resolve while you lay there in that heap on the pavement. The pain from all the running through the city catching up with you. Your breathing erratic and you are finding it hard to catch the breath that you lost during this chase. You feel dizzy, your entire body aching in agony, and for this time all you can focus on is the sheer panic coursing through your entire form. You need to get up, need to, have to, you can’t just keep lying like this out in the open, they’ll find you. Another surge of adrenaline gives you the energy you need, you rise to your feet and start running again. You are ignoring the pain in your feet and in other areas of your body which is over-exhausting. You’re Focusing on what is dead ahead of you, a building that looks abandoned. You can focus on much of anything else except the idea of escaping, the idea you can hide and rest a moment. Though, you have to wonder what you are going to do. You can’t run forever and you doubt hiding will do you much good either. No, not when facing off with two pro heroes who are much more experienced than you. Two pro heroes and friends you never had thought until now would have done something like this in the first place and no one else will believe such a claim either. No one will convict two heroes that have done nothing but good. 

These thoughts alone left you feeling alone, so very alone. Who do you turn to in a time like this one? Who will even believe you? You, a simple book store clerk and hobbyist selling random things for fun? You are what most would call a nobody, just another face in the crowd, which is why you have to wonder what wound you up getting mixed up with these two in the first place. However, this is no time to think about that. There is no time to be drudging back into the past when what you need to focus on is finding a solution to your problem. A solution that doesn’t come easy or seemingly at all. The alarm of this chase slowly starts to dull into confusion as to why you haven’t been hearing anything from the two who should be hunting you down right now. You haven’t even seen a glimpse of either of the two males you figure are after you currently. Everything quiet and dark, not a sound, not a peep, nothing. You pause your running once reaching the abandoned building and making your way inside. You pant and groan, your lungs and everything else feeling like they are on fire. You place your hands on your knees and take in a deep gasp of breath before coughing loudly. You are choking and gasping after all that running, that dizzy feeling coming back to you. You stumble to the wall and lean against it, you in this tiring state slide down not caring about the filth on it or the ground under you, and there is trash along with other more grimy looking things all around, nonetheless at the moment, you choose to ignore it. Your body too worn and your mind still scattering about too much to really mind it all. All you need is to breathe, that is all you can think, you need a moment. Maybe if lucky, they aren’t chasing you after all. You can only hope that is the case yet you can’t be too certain so you know you can’t linger for too long.

“Fuck...fuck...it stings damn it…why…?!”

You curse under your breath finally starting to feel the glass in your feet you didn’t bother to remove before. You are fearful to even look at the bottoms of your feet right now, you can only imagine how torn up they must look currently, The blood. Looking off you can see the small trail leading to you.  You let out a small whimper as you raise your hands to look at them. They too sting badly from falling a few times before. Looking them over it seems they have been torn up pretty badly. A few rocks rest under the skin now, you poke at the bloody and bruising flesh trying to scoot a rock from under the flesh to get it out only to hiss from how it feels to do so and once more curse.

“Damn it…stings...”

You say in a whimper as you move to curl up into yourself, more tears start to cascade down your cheeks, that tight feeling in your chest returning.

“(BF/n), oh god...what am I...?!”

You curl up and start sobbing the images of your beloved’s corpse chard and beaten to a pulp on the floor creeping into your brain, it once more causes you to feel sick. It makes you want to vomit. The smell, the sight, the screaming before all that, those are things you know you’ll never forget. All of them tear you up inside, this is all your fault after all if it weren’t for taking on that project for the two pro heroes you wouldn’t have been winding up here, would you?

It had been a simple day, one like any other, the sky was bright and sunny dotted with a few clouds which you had remembered you stared up at that day. It was very nice unlike tonight, cold and unbearable regardless you remember you woke up beside your lover then. Your boyfriend had given you a good morning kiss like always ever since you had moved in together. Honestly, you hadn’t been in that house together all that long, only a couple of months but those moments spent together had been a dream. A dream you hadn’t wanted to wake up from. You would both get up and get ready to go to work. That morning you showered together, you both got a bit frisky that morning. You and your boyfriend would make out tongues danced together while your arms would be wrapped around each other. You could feel how well your bodies fit together. 

Hard to believe that is all over now, that lovely little dream with your boyfriend dead, as dead as he is now. You will never feel that perfect fit with him again. Knowing that sends another wave of pain through you and causes another sob to echo out from your chest as you shiver and wish for the warmth of your lover. Right now you feel more cold and alone than ever before.

Continuing that trip down memory lane, you could recall you left the house alone that day. Your boyfriend would take his car to work and you would walk, being that you didn’t live that far away from the book store which you work at. You can’t help but think that years ago you wouldn’t have seen yourself working in such a place and it’s not because you don’t like books more so you have problems dealing with people. It fills you with a lot of anxiety to deal with things most days. Honestly, you feel you might have just wasted away if it wasn’t for your boyfriend who always seemed to have your back when you needed it. What are you going to do now that he is gone? Are you going to spiral out of control? No, somehow you will stay strong for his sake. 

Regardless, continuing on. The day moved forward normally nothing seemed out of place, not even the random email you had gotten when you came home. The email was another commission for a project by another faceless person. You didn’t know that this request would wind you up in deep trouble later, in that deep trouble now. The commission seemed all too normal. The client wanted something special done for an anniversary gift for their boyfriend which seemed very cute to you. Really you sort of like hearing from the clients more than most do. The theme was simple it was to be a Red Riot and Ground Zero themed item or rather mugs. They wanted it to be a bit flashy or at least the art on them to be, it was something you could do, Honestly. Despite not being that into heroes, you were happy to do this for the client. You love making things and even more so making those who enjoy your work happy. So like with any other client you got to work after you sorted through the details, and actually, you were very excited. This was something you could do with your boyfriend, he was much more into the whole hero thing than you were and still are. Funny enough your boyfriend did like those two in particular. They were heroes that he very much enjoyed so that day you learned quite a lot about the pair of heroes in question.

The project went on as normal and with your newfound information, you made the gift extra special. You wanted to be very specific to the client’s taste so you tried to ask questions however they seemed very lax about everything they had said that they trusted your judgment. You didn’t mind this one bit. You had given the client updates and he seemed to like them. Eventually, the day came for the project to be done and you shipped them out. You had been very proud of your work and even your boyfriend was. Actually, Your boyfriend had got all pouty, he wished he could keep them which you had found funny then...what you would give to be able to hear him laugh again, to see that smile, and now that was stolen from you.

For a long while, things seemed alright, there had been no word from the client. However, you had been paid so you assumed they were happy with what they had gotten. It wasn’t until a full two months later that things started to kick off again. The day had started normal enough, you made it to the bookstore on time, and would work as you normally would. That day was quiet, not many customers, and most of the day spent slacked off with your coworker while doing what needed to be done around the store. Though at some point the bell on the door would sound it would call you back to the front of the store. A young man with crimson red spikey hair and eyes was the one who sounded the bell when he walked in. Upon further inspection your eyes would widen you would form a recognition with the redhead in the store, it was the hero Red Riot. You couldn’t help but stand there dumbfounded.

“H-Hello and welcome to Nook Books, how can I help you?”

That had been what you said when you finally had found your words, your voice had come out in a bit of a stutter and you had given him a small nervous laugh. He responded to your more shy behavior with merely a smile and offered up an adorable laugh of his own, which actually eased your own anxiety towards the situation at the time.

“Hey there, yeah I could actually use a bit of help finding a book.”

You would smile at the young hero and gave a small nod, you of course were always happy to help the customer, and there was no exception then either. Not to mention you were face to face with the hero Red Riot and at that time you had been oh too excited to be in his presence for the fact you could tell your boyfriend about the encounter. Maybe if you were lucky you could get an autograph, or maybe at least a picture, though to be honest you also hadn’t wanted to bother him so you so it was just a debate in your mind. you at the time though knew it would make your boyfriend happy if you would get it.

“Ah yes, well I’m happy to help, what book are you looking for?”

You would offer up one of your best smiles and try not to fidget too much however you had already shifted to and fro a bit out of nervousness already.

“Ah well, haha, I kinda don’t know…”

You would blink a moment in confusion but nod a moment before you responded.

“You don’t know? Are you buying for someone else?”

You would question a moment, you thought maybe his mind had been on someone else when he thought of the book he wanted, it might have been a gift if he wasn’t sure what kind of book he was on the look for however just as well he might just not had been sure what type of book he needed for himself, but something told you it wasn’t for him, you had a felt that way anyway.

“Haha, yeah, it isn’t for me, though he’s very special to me, he’s a bit difficult to buy for sometimes. Do you have any books that would be more action-packed and manly?”

You had smiled when you listened to his explanation for who it was for and even giggled when you heard what exactly he was had been in search for. There were many, many books on hand that could cover what he wanted but with so little given and that he said the other was difficult to buy for well it seemed like a slightly daunting task. Even so at that time you were determined to find the perfect book for this special someone that he had talked about. You smiled and worked very hard, you asked specific questions to try and get a better gauge on what type of book to get. If only you had known what you had been dealing with back then you wouldn’t have worked as hard as you did to make him happy. You wouldn’t have been as pleasant to him, but sadly you hadn’t known and you had been as positive and polite as possible. You even asked more than you would have given your normal comfort zone. You had tired yourself out on one customer something you wouldn’t usually do, but you wanted to impress the male. You wanted to make sure someone like him left very happy. You did manage that, you got him the perfect book, after you found that book for him you brought him over to the register to check him out.

“I think that book will make him smile, and if it doesn’t feel free to hold me accountable.”

You would chirp out as you rang up the book, you had a good conversation with the young hero. He’d even told you his name which was interesting to know. Kirishima seemed to talk about Ground Zero. Of course, it was said they were good friends so you supposed that was only natural, and he’d mentioned a few other interesting aspects about himself which had tickled you to learn about. It wasn’t every day you could have said you got to talk to a pro hero.

“Don’t worry, I trust your judgment, I don’t think you’d steer me wrong haha.”

You would nod and laugh as you placed the book in a bag and told him how much the book would be, Kirishima would pay you and you would hand him the bag, of course surprisingly he didn’t rush off after that, he would stick by the counter a moment.

“Before I go, would you like an autograph or something?”

He had given you a big grin and you would blink, you had held back and tried not to ask because you hadn’t wanted to bother him and there he asked you about what you had wanted from him, almost too eager you lept at the opportunity.

“Y-Yes actually I’d love that, my boyfriend is a big fan.”

At the first part of your statement it would seem that Kirishima was very happy to hear what you had to say but as you look back on it now you realize that he had twitched lightly, he had made a small change in his facial expression that said something else when you mentioned your boyfriend, you thought nothing of it back then but now it was very apparent that he was upset to hear you were with someone and that the reason you wanted a picture and autograph was because of him and not because you were a fan.

“Yeah? Alright then, glad I could help you make his day like you made mine.”

After that, you would get to pose with him for a picture and he would sign a piece of notebook paper for you, it was the only thing you had on hand at the moment, but he happily signed it for you. You also hadn’t noticed that he looked for more reasons to make conversation with you but your coworker interrupted and him unlike your boyfriend wasn’t very fond of heroes so he could care less that one was in the store other than the fact it meant that the store might get a good review from someone who mattered.

“(Y/n), I need you to do something for me in the back.”

Your coworker would speak up, you could tell from the tone of his voice he just wanted to hurry things along.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you. It was nice to meet you, (Y/n). Hopefully, I’ll see you again.”

With that Kirishima had given you a small smile and wave before he made his way to the door.

“Yeah, you too, have a lovely day, I hope the person you were buying for enjoys your gift!!”

You would call back to him before he fully left, you hadn’t thought about how he used your first name, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t then, which would come to be a mistake later, many things would lead to being mistakes you couldn’t have fathomed being so problematic. After that meet with him, you had continued work only to be nagged by your coworker about doing your job in a timely fashion which irked you quite a lot but you hadn’t let it ruin your day. Like you assumed your boyfriend would be over the moon to see the autograph and to see the picture you had been so pleased to see his smile, that night was one to remember, Your boyfriend had been so excited he made love to you. Part of you doesn’t want to remember that part, only because it’s yet another thing that you will never have from him again, and giving the current situation, you find it inappropriate.

Suddenly you hear a loud bang echo out, a growl and cussing from not too far away from where you are in the building. Your heart begins pounding in your chest, it looks like those who were chasing you after you had fled are finally here to collect you. Your breathing picks up and you move scrabbling to your feet. If you stay here they’ll find you for sure, that is all that you are thinking about, you need to escape and now.

“Where the fuck are you (Y/n)!! I know you’re fucking here, can’t hide forever idiot!!”

#Kiribaku #Bakukiri #yandere #Xreader #fanfic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bnha bakugou #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #poly #part 1 #death #murder #twisted love #obsession #love #horror #dark #running #hiding #flashback #sad #boyfriend

[seokstrivia]

Neon Lights | dpr live

↬ Summary: You and Dabin work in a club, that’s it, that’s the fic

or, a cute moment between two friends 

↬ Club!AU | word count: 2.4k

�� DPR Live x Reader: friends to lovers au, slowish burn, it takes place in a club where the two of you work, confessions, one-shot, fluff, minor angst, it's just short and sweet 

↬ A/N so this is my first khh fic on this account, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask, I hope this was enjoyable and you all welcome my love for khh to this blog, thank you <3 

A long and tiring sigh parted your lips as you dragged your feet towards the cloakroom. Sure, getting paid meant that you could buy food and feed yourself, pay bills and stay warm through winter, but you were 100% certain that it did not mean never getting any time to rest.

You were putting your jacket away when you heard a small chuckle behind you, one that you knew all too well. A pout formed its way onto your lips while you turned around to face the one person you would do absolutely anything for.

Hong Dabin— your work best friend.

“Good to see you’re happy to be here!” His tone was chirpy, but as usual, laced with sarcasm.

It made you roll your eyes before straightening your shoulders and crossing your arms. Almost in a way to intimidate him or stare him down, but he only smiled in return and you sighed in defeat.

“Do you know how hard it was to stay awake during my last lecture today?” You moaned as you followed him to his spot at the bar. “Clarkson’s monotone voice seeps right through me, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”

Dabin shook his head before laughing at the forlorn expression etched into your face. Sometimes he wished he could take a picture so he could keep it forever, but you would probably threaten him and force him to delete it.

He knew you well. Maybe, a little too well.

“You’re just being dramatic as usual,” he told you, earning a scoff in return. “I’ll treat you to a nice meal once we’re out of here.”

That was enough to lighten your mood and get you situated at the front door, minutes before opening, with a smile on your face.

The rest of the night was nothing more than a blur, your job was to sit at the register by the front doors making sure anyone who walked in paid before going any further into the club. But it got boring and quiet after a certain time and, to be honest, the only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting something to eat with Dabin.

Hence, as soon as you were done with work and as soon as the place was vacant, you frantically sped towards the cloakroom to find Dabin. He was already there, tugging his jacket over his shoulders before twisting around to face you with a sheepish smile.

That’s not good. You sighed.

“No food?”

He went to open his mouth to speak; probably to spout out a reason or two, but you'd beat him to it.

“It’s okay! There’s always a next time.”

The smile on your face didn’t falter, it wasn’t fake— it was genuine and that was something he loved about you.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise!” That was the last thing he said before hurrying out the door.

You watched his figure disappear with pursed lips, wondering what came up—did something happen within his family? Did his friend finally break up with his snotty girlfriend? Did his goldfish die—wait, he doesn’t have a goldfish?

A giggle parted your lips as you laughed at yourself while moving for your jacket and bag. It was finally time to go home after a long and somewhat exhausting week.

Your bed was calling your name.

>

"You know what we should do?" Your friend urged, face way too close to yours.

"Sleep forever?" You mumbled in question while moving your face away from hers.

She chuckled in return, full and hearty before playfully bumping your arm with hers, "no silly! We should go clubbing this weekend."

A grunt left your lips, you knew this was coming from the second you'd informed her of your first weekend ever off work.

"That's far from what I think we should do this weekend," you told her before moving your chair slightly away from hers.

Mina was always bursting your personal space bubble without fail.

However, you could never stay mad at her, she was your best friend since birth and had never left your side. She was also extremely supportive, albeit annoying.

"I think it'll be fun."

You turned to stare at Mina, there was a pout on her face as if it would help convince you to say yes.

Unfortunately, it did help.

"Okay, fine! We can go clubbing."

A shriek of happiness emitted from her lips in excitement, it had been a while since you two hung out on the weekend and truth be told, she missed being able to spend time outside of University with you.

But, so did you.

Okay, so maybe you wouldn't be able to sleep the whole weekend away, but at least you'll have a good time.

Plus Dabin would be tending the bar.

The rest of the week was spent talking about what to wear, what time to be ready by and what drinks to buy to get a little tipsy before going to the club.

Mina wouldn't stop talking about, 'the best weekend ever,' it was annoying sometimes, but you couldn't bring yourself to get mad at her since it had been a while since you got the weekend off.

You missed it.

"Is Dabin working tonight?" Mina asked while finishing her makeup.

You were ready half an hour ago, but you never really dressed up. Comfort was always the way to go.

"Yeah, he should be unless he calls in sick," you told her while sipping on your drink.

Mina's eyes met yours through the mirror, the smirk on her lips had you rolling your eyes as she bounced her eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner.

"Shut up," you snorted.

She shrugged her shoulders before returning to her makeup, "I didn't say anything."

A chuckle parted tour lips making her smile.

"You didn't have to."

Sometimes you thought you could read her mind, but in reality, you just knew each other that well.

***

The club was already bouncing with people, most of the crowd was already drunk but, that was a given with cheap drinks.

Mina stretched for your hand and proceeded to skillfully advance through the crowd to get to the bar. A smile made its way to her lips when she noticed who was working at the bar.

"Will you buy me a drink while I quickly go and pee?"

You rolled your eyes at her before telling her to be careful and quick.

When you turned to face the bar after watching Mina disappear towards the toilets, you were met with Dabin's big, cheesy grin.

"Hi! I'm surprised to see you here," he teased, moving closer so you could hear him better. "I thought you would be in bed sleeping."

You flicked his forehead with your finger causing him to grimace in pain, "Mina said she wanted to go out, so... very reluctantly, I said yes."

He chuckled in response, feeling sympathy and understanding that you would much rather be asleep than somewhere loud and crowded.

"Well, can I get you anything?"

You shook your head, 'no,' before glimpsing at the direction Mina was standing, "he's gonna keep her distracted for a while, so I think... I'll just hang around here."

"And keep me company?" Dabin replied as he glanced away from the two now making out. "I'm flattered."

A chuckle parted your lips as you made yourself comfortable on one of the many empty bar stools.

The majority of the night was spent talking to Dabin, catching up and talking about how Uni was going for the two of you.

It was nearing 1:30 am when Dabin finally asked you if you were ever going to get off your ass and enjoy your night.

"You think there’s a reason that I sit at the counter talking to you all night while you bartend... No, of course, there isn't- WHO’S THAT GIRL AND WHY IS SHE WINKING AT YOU?"

You were drunk.

Dabin rolled his eyes and shook his head, "that's my ex."

You gasped in return, this was your first time hearing this, "you have an ex? But you told me that you'd been single all your life."

"I told you I was single most of my life."

"What's the difference?"

Dabin shrugged his shoulders, annoyed that you thought he'd been single forever. Did you think he was ugly or something? Maybe you thought he would only ever make it as a friend.

A sigh parted his lips as he stepped away to serve others at the bar.

You stopped staring at his ex only to find Dabin was on the other side of the bar—with a frown etched on his face.

Was it something you said?

When he came back towards your end, he handed you bottled water before turning to leave again, however, you were quick to grab for his arm, a look of concern lazed across your features.

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

Dabin removed your hand from his arm, he glanced over at his ex before making eye contact with you, "it's not like you would understand. You're the one who's been single their whole life."

His words didn't hurt because they were true, and they didn't mean anything to you. You just hadn't found the right person yet, but it wasn't difficult to understand that Dabin was upset.

And that it was most likely your fault.

>

"Are you working tomorrow night?" Mina asked.

You nodded.

"Is Dabin working."

An exhalation parted your lips as you shook your head, 'no.'

"He's off this weekend," you told her.

Mina knew you were still beating yourself up over the whole ex ordeal with him, even if you couldn't pinpoint exactly what you had said that upset him.

This is why she spoke to Ian, Dabin's best friend, and asked him if they were going out clubbing Friday night. Let's just say she was over the moon when he said yes, and you were slightly freaking out when she told you.

"Wow," Mina exclaimed when she reached the bar. "So, you're bartending tonight!"

You chuckled at the excitement in her tone and nodded your head, "someone called in sick, so I'll be stuck here tonight."

"This is great!" She shouted before going off to find the friends she'd come out with.

It wasn't long before the bar was filled with people asking for drinks, it kept your mind busy and distracted from Dabin.

It kept you so distracted that you didn't even notice him sitting on the stool at the far end of the bar. The very seat you'd taken just last week.

It made you smile, but also made you feel nervous.

"Hi," you spoke softly, but loud enough for him to hear. "What can I get you?"

The scowl on his face caught you off guard, but the slur in his voice told you that he was very drunk.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

You stared at him for a solid minute before pinching his cheek, even though he was drunk, he could still feel the pain.

"Of course I don't think you're ugly!" You argued. "What gave you that idea?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a pout on his lips and stroked his cheek, hoping the pain would quickly subside.

"You thought I'd been single my whole life."

"That's only because you'd never spoke about your ex before," you told him. "I don't think you've ever told me anything about your personal life, to be honest."

Dabin stared into your eyes with his red and tired ones.

"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions," you added.

And then, he smiled.

"If you liked me more than a friend," he slurred in a serious tone. "I would have confessed my feelings by now."

His words caught you off guard but you couldn't ask him what he meant since he was gone and, well, you had a job to do.

However, his words lingered endlessly in your mind for the rest of the night. Was this his way of saying that he liked you? Dabin liked you this whole time and you didn't even know?

Your mind was reeling by the end of the night, Dabin filled your mind with endless thoughts. Wait, if he liked you, why didn't he ask you out on a date?

A sigh parted your lips as you wiped down the bar, watching groups of people huddle together as they were all ushered out of the club.

Mina hurried over to the bar before leaving, her footing was clumsy, but it made you laugh. You assumed she's forgotten the keys to the flat and that's why she was rushing over, however, you were in fact, wrong.

"Did you speak to Dabin?"

You frowned in confusion, "I did, but he was drunk so it wasn't for long."

She nodded her head in response before leaving and waving goodbye.

You rolled your eyes, watching her stumble towards the male she'd met last week. A potential boyfriend she had told you, which didn't surprise you.

It didn't take you long to finish cleaning, but you were exhausted and couldn't wait for your bed. It was nearing 3:30 am when you left the club, the area was empty and quiet as you walked towards your car.

Dabin, who you thought had gone home hours ago, was leaning against the car door. Staring at the night sky, admiring the stars, something in your stomach churned, and you felt your heart begin to beat faster the closer you got.

"Hey," you smiled, keys in hand as you unlocked the car. "You need a ride home?"

His eyes finally met yours, he appeared to have sobered up as a smile rose across his lips, "if you don't mind," he chuckled. "Honestly, I just wanted to apologise."

"For what?"

"For being an idiot," he said. "Selfish, mostly. I got upset that maybe you'd never see me as anything more than a friend."

You punched his arm causing him to wince in pain, "you're an idiot, Dabin."

He shrugged his shoulders while rubbing the pain away.

"If you'd just told me how you felt or I dont know? Asked me out on a date," you argued. "You would have found out that I feel the same."

"You like me?" He asked carefully, eyes searching yours for answers—for anything.

"Yeah, I do."

A wide smile adorned his lips before his arms found your waist and lured you in for a hug, you giggled in return while coiling your arms around his neck.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asked as he drew back to look at you.

You rolled your eyes, "took you long enough."

#khh imagines #khh scenarios #khh #khiphop #khiphop scenarios #khiphop imagines #dpr live scenarios #dpr live imagines #dpr live #hong dabin #dream perfect regime #dpr #dpr scenarios #dpr imagines #christian yu #dpr ian

[luimagines]

I really quickly wana say that I absolutely love your writing, its very different and unique. Could you do a scenario of the boys confessing while the reader is seriously injured or upset?

Masterlist

So you all want Link to Confess?

You want it to be filled with tension?

I can do that.

This will once again be split up. This part will include Legend, Four and Time.

Content under the cut.

Legend

“I can’t.” You say. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this with you.”

Legend bite his lip at your words. His hands are clenched into fists at his side and he looks away from you painfully. He doesn’t know why it’s come down to this or how you both even got here to begin with.

You don’t notice. You wipe your eyes harshly with your fist and sniffle loudly. “I don’t want to fight you. I’m not fighting you. I’m done. I’m done.”

You gulp and turn on your heel taking a few steps away before Legend can even get his words out of his mouth.

“No. Wait. Please.” He chokes on them and nothing else leaves his mouth for a solid minute.

You’re waiting for him to continue. 

He knows it. 

He doesn’t know why he can’t get his words out. Out of all the times for his words and his throat close off, this is the last place he wants it to happen.

You don’t look back at him.

He gulps and his hands lifts out to you against his consent. Legend can feel his tear build up behind his eyes. There’s something in his gut that’s telling him to move, to act, because it’s his last chance. If he screws this up then your relationship is beyond repair.

He knows it.

You take a deep breath and he can see you fold over yourself, no doubt crying silently at this whole exchange.

You sniffle loudly again and shake yourself off.

“Link...” You say and he’s never hated the way you say his own name so much. There’s so much pain... resignation... and finality. “I can’t let you keep hurting yourself like this. I can’t. I know you’re doing this for me but I hate it. I care about you too much to see you take hit after hit and for you to act like it’s not a big deal.”

“But-”

“NO!” You yell and your voice cracks with it. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t bare to see how little you care about yourself. How little you think everyone thinks of you. And then when I try to tell you, you just yell at me. Tell me that it’s not my business. Tell me that I underestimate you. Tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about or that I can’t tell you what to do. AND I KNOW I CAN’T. But I... I can’t...I just can’t...”

Legend can feel his tears run down his face and he has to unstick his feet from where he stands to make his way over to you.

You still don’t look back.

“By the stars, you have to hate me with how annoying I’ve been.”

Legend can feel more tears spill at your confession. I don’t hate you, he thinks. I could never hate you. How could anyone hate you?

“And even then I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from and it just makes it worse each time this happens but I....” You heave and it’s painful to hear because it sounds like your fighting for your life. “I’m the only one who says anything and I don’t know why and I don’t care what the group may think but this hurts. This hurts, Link. And I don’t think you care.”

Legend stops behind you, his heart bleeding with every tear he knows you’re shedding. But he still can’t bring himself to make his voice work.

“I have to leave.”

No.

“I can’t be here anymore.”

Please.

“I can’t look at your face and let this happen.”

Don’t leave me.

“Next town over, I’m staying there. I don’t care how far away I’d be from my home. I’ll find my own way back. You lot can keep fighting the darkness without me.”

“Don’t go.” Legend finds his voice again but it’s quiet and he doubts that you even hear him. So he says it again, trying to be louder. “Don’t go. Please don’t go.”

His hands grips your sleeve but he can’t tell when he got so close to you.

“Don’t say that.” You snap and turn your face away from him, ripping your arm away from him. “Don’t say that like you care.”

“I do care!”

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“But I love you!” Legend shouts and his own intensity scares him for a moment.

You both freeze and a fragile stillness blankets the air.

You finally look at him again and blink. You look miserable and he knows it’s his fault. You try to blink away any remaining tears and bravely face him head on. He’s the one who nearly chickens out and looks away but this is too important. He owes you this much. He has to see this through to the end now.

You bite your lip and whisper. “What did you say?”

“Of course I care.” He chokes on his own spit and he knows that this is the make or break. His final chance to win you over or he’ll risk losing you forever. He can’t afford to let his own words fail him. “I care because I love you. I fight for you because I love you. I take those hits because I love you. I don’t think I can handle a reality where you’re hurt. I’d take every hit for you if I could. If it would just mean that-”

“Well don’t.” You snap. 

Legend’s heart drops to his stomach at your words and he thinks this is it. He’s lost. There’s no coming back from this.

“Stop taking my hits.” You sniffle and rub your eyes again. “God... Link, you’re so stupid.”

“I... I just-” Legend looks away as he loses his nerve.

“I love you too.” You admit and his neck almost cracks with how fast he looks back up at you.

“I love you so much, you stupid idiot.” You laugh. It’s wet and weak but you’re laughing. “If you hate to see me hurt, how much do you think I hate seeing you hurt?”

“It’ll hurt more to see you leave than every hit I’ve ever taken in my life.” Legend blinks away more tears. You’re both ugly crying and nothing about this is pretty but Legend feels just the smallest ray of hope in his heart that maybe you’ll stay and let him love you.

Maybe you’ll love him in return.

It’ll be more than what he’ll ever ask for.

“Don’t go.” He tries again. “Please don’t go.”

“I don’t want to go.” You fall to your knees. Legend is quick to fall with you and he places his hands on your shoulder to keep you upright. “I don’t want to leave this group. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave at all.”

“Then don’t.” Legend’s voice cracks this time instead. “Don’t leave. Stay. Stay with me. Please. I’d do anything.”

“Stop getting hurt idiot. That’s all I’m asking.” You snap and place your hands on his face.

Legend leans into your touch and you wipe away his tears with your thumb. “I don’t think I can make that promise.”

“Then don’t get hurt on my account. Promise me.” You press. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Legend sighs and picks at his sleeve, tugging it into his palm to wipe away your tears. “I just want you safe so you don’t have to.”

“I’m already traveling with the group. I don’t think that can be helped.” You snort and move closer to him. You wrap your arms around him and hold him close, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

Legend’s heart is absolutely pounding in his chest right now. He’s almost certain that you know it with where your ear is. He wraps his arms around you as well, holding you as tight as he can. “I love you.”

You grin against him. “I love you too.”

Four

Somewhere in the dungeon Four has lost everyone around him.

He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where the group is. And he doesn’t know how exactly to get back to you- the group. Back to the group.

“Hello!” He hears you call. “Anyone nearby?! Time! Sky! Four!”

Four’s heart begins pounding and against his better judgment he begins to sprint over to where he heard you call. He so badly wants to see you. To see that you’re ok. That you’re alright.

You’re not ok.

He can see you... but you’re not you.

Kinda, technically- Four’s not actually not sure what he’s looking at right now only that it’s bad.

For one thing, you’re looking at him with a large smile on your face. There’s a bloodied knife in your hand and a whole lot of blood by your feet. Behind you is an open room, with ropes hanging from the ceiling and what looks to be shelves of multiple sharp metal items on top of them.

Four’s heart going from pounding to a full stop. There’s something off about you. There’s a trail of blood going from your forehead down to your chin and multiple dark patches of what can only be more blood on your clothes.

Four says your name as he takes a step back. “What happened to you?”

Why are your eyes completely black?

“Four.” He hears you say and it’s his worse nightmare.

Mostly because your voice doesn’t come from the person in front of him.

The being in front of him take a side step and he can see where you are.

You’re what’s hanging from the ropes, blood pooling underneath you as it weeps around your binds. You look tired and horrible. Four’s heart jump starts into his throat and he’s not sure for a second whether he’s going to cry or vomit.

“Holy Hylia...”

“Four. Run.” You say from your binds. “Get out of here! Find the others! Go- Go on without me! ...I’ll be ok”

He doubts that.

Four reaches for his sword and takes a stance in front of your evil twin. 

“Four don’t.” You try to fight the ropes but you’re too weak. On top of that you’re too high up. Even if you could get out, Four’s afraid the fall might be enough to break your bones. “Don’t do it! It’s too strong for just one person. Go get the others!”

“And leave you behind to this thing?” Four shouts and adjusts his grip on his blade. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh yes please.” The monster says in your voice. “It’s been so long since I’ve had anybody to play with.”

Before his eyes, Four sees this monster shift downward and wobble in its illusion and soon his own face is staring back at him- eyes just as black as before.

“Show me what you can do.” It’s in his voice now with a sword that looks just like his.

The similarity of the situation is not lost on Four and he hates that it’s come to this.

Four growls and strikes at the alien. It parries without much trouble and grins.

There’s a rage bubbling under his skin as he attacks and blocks and tries his hardest to knock this monster back into the room. He ignores the slick floor. He ignores your cries for him to stop and run. He ignores the thought that you’d were alone when you fought a losing battle. He ignores how he wasn’t there to save you. He ignores how no one was there to save you. He ignores everything except how you’re hurt and how you’re stuck and how you’re crying.

Four can’t seem to get a hit in this beast. It matches him with every beat- every strike- every block and Four’s frustration builds as every second passes with neither side gaining ground.

Four backflips away from a particularly dangerous strike and raises his sword skyward- banking on the fact that this monster wouldn’t have been able to copy the magic within his blade without it’s knowledge and attacks with more energy than before.

Blue, Green and Red attack the monster without mercy, covering where one fails with practiced efficiency.

Vio dances around the battle and begins looking for a way to get you down.

You’ve stopped struggling for a while once fight started and he’s worried that you may have lost too much blood.

Vio takes one look around and finds a gear which connects to the rope. He dashes over to it and begins to painstakingly push and pull to get the system in place to put you on the ground once more.

He looks over to where his brothers are and find that they’ve cornered the beast without any way of it breaking out of their square. He sees it panic- clearly not anticipating their split- nor is it able to replicate it and can see how it’s losing the fight.

Your feet touch the ground and you don’t even have the strength to hold yourself up anymore.

Your head hangs low and your completely limp as he continues to lower you.

Vio gulps and keep lowering the rope until your head has touched the ground as gently as he can manage.

“NOW DIE YOU TWO FACED, SHAPE SHIFTING, PUDDLE OF-” Blue screams from the other side of the room, followed by Green and Red as they finish off whatever vile creature it was.

Vio takes out his knife and begins to cut as many of the ropes as he can to release you. As he’s doing this, he’s calling your name, trying to not give in to impulse and shake you to get a response but the lack of one concerns him greatly.

Red appears by his side not a moment later and begins to pour what looks like a healing potion over you.

Green jumps over you three and spins on his heel on your other side, taking out their last fairy and setting it free over you. 

With the potion and the fairy working on healing what they can, Blue comes up behind all of them and growls. “I can’t believe this.”

“Blue-”

“NO! It’s not-!”

“Four...” You groan and reach your hand out. Green is quick to take it and pull it close to his chest. 

He looks at the others for a moment before swallowing. “I’m here.”

“Link...” You call and take a deep breath. All the colors can hear the amount of effort it take to inhale and how it barely fills your lungs.

“We should merge.” Vio whispers and reaches behind him for his sword.

Green nods and holds it up, waiting for the others to join. Red follows quick without a fuss and Blue joins after a tense moment of studying you. Four is left where Green was placed, sword raised and holding your hand.

His mind is loose and memories from the last fifteen minutes flood through his brain as he tries to stitch it back together.

“Link.” You call again and he leans down placing a chaste kiss on your hand. 

Thinking is very hard right now but he can get enough movement synched up to complete some sort of action to tell you that he’s here.

“You’re ok.” You mumble and grip him ever so slightly. The potion seems to be doing it’s job and the fairy continues to hover over you as it tends to your wounds.

“You’re ok.” Four finds himself saying. “You’re going to ok. Just hang a bit, ok?”

Four realizes a little belatedly that he has no other items to give you that would help. That was his last fairy and there’s no potions left either. Not to mention that it’s still just the two of you and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving you to go get help. 

“I am... So tired.” You say and take another breath.

“No. Don’t sleep.” Four whimpers. “Don’t sleep. You won’t wake up.”

“Four... I can’t even open my eyes.” You sigh. “You’ll watch over me, right? And we can wait for the others?”

“Don’t sleep.” He stresses, mind clearing as the panic seeps in. “Talk to me. Say something. How did you even meet that monster? What was it?”

“I don’t know...” Your voice trails away.

Four says your name, tears pooling in his eyes. “You can’t do this to me. I have nothing left to give you. You can’t die here.”

You don’t reply.

Four says your name again with more urgency, tugging your hand and beating it against his chest. “Come on. Say something, anything- please I can’t do anything else!”

You sigh and Four doesn’t see your chest rise again.

“No.” He cries and folds on your chest, pushing the fairy away even as it’s working. “No. You can’t leave me. You can’t leave like this. I never got to tell you. I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I should have been faster. I should have tried to find you faster or find anyone. I’m sorry you were alone.”

“Four I’m not dead.” You mumble.

Four shoot up and cradles your face with his free hand, his grip tightening on your own exponentially. For a moment he feels like slapping you for the scare but he’s too relieved to go through with it. “How dare you-”

“I had to gather my strength.” You explain. “I’m really close to sleeping but I think that fairy is keeping me awake.”

He lets a long breath go and folds over you again, placing his head over your heart. Your heart beat is strong and sturdy and Four could cry from the amount of relief that follows. “I thought I lost you there.”

“Did you mean it?” You mumble and weakly put your other hand in his hair. “Did you mean what you said?”

“What?”

“You said you love me.”

“I do.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why? I’m sorry.”

Four stops the incredulous laugh from overcoming his chest but he can’t stop the few tears that leave his eyes. “Are you asking me why I love you? Are you asking me to sing your praises? Because I will. I absolutely will. Don’t doubt me on this.”

“No, I believe you.” You smile and hum in contentment. “I love you too if that means anything.”

“It means everything.” Four chokes on his own breath and holds you close.

“Yay.” You place a kiss on his hair line and nuzzle him where you can. Your strength is slowly returning to you as the potion takes full effect and the fairy finally leaves you alone.

“Link?”

“Yes?

“Thank you. For saving me.”

“Thank you for not dying.” He grins.

“I have to live to give you all my love now. I don’t have the time to die.”

Time

Time was breathing hard as he lifts his shield to block an upcoming shot.

Metal clangs against metal. The brute force knocking him back enough that he has to dig his heels into the stone or else he’ll fall over. 

He grunts and pushes the beast away. He readjusts his sword in his hand and hunker downs further. 

The lizafos in front of him screeches in anger at the lack of damage done to him. Time nearly growls back at the monster in reply.

“Fowl beast.” Time spits instead. “This is where you fall.”

Time raises his arm to strike the creature until he hears you yell in anger.

You’re closer to him than he thought and the lizard sees the subtle eye shift on Time’s face. The lizard sees the opportunity and falls onto its four legs, dashing in your direction. 

Tim’s heart freezes and in a moment of desperation, he throws his sword in the direction of the monster. 

He can see everything slow down for this exact moment.

You strike your own monster down and turn around just in time to see the lizard rise up and unhinge its jaws. Time can see your eyes widen in fear and both of you make the calculation that you’re not going be able to block that attack in time. He sees his sword make contact with the monster right as the top row of teeth latch onto your tunic. The force from the blow sends the monsters careening away from you, the hooked teeth tearing at the fabric of your clothes. Ribbons of red fly from you and Time sprints in your direction.

“Time!” You shout and audibly gulp. He can see how shaken you are from that close call and you’re quick to place your back to his with your weapon out in front of you. “Bloody hell, was that you? I thought I was gonna have to have Legend sew me back together for a hot second. Stars, how hard did you throw that?”

Harder than was probably needed, Time admits in his head, reaching for his giant’s knife as you speak.

“Hard enough. Now focus.” He says.

“Right, right.” You twirl your blade in your hand, readjusting your grip and stance.

Time chances a glance behind him to look over to you. Your forearm is beginning to bleed profusely but your grip is still strong. You’re absolutely covered in dust and dirt alike from head to toe and appear to be sporting some blooming bruises under your chin and above one of your eyes.

Time can feel the frustration build up inside of him as he eyes the enemies down. He doesn’t doubt that he’s advertising his own injuries as he stands tall. He’s also doesn’t know where the rest of the boys are or if they’re handle it better that you both seem to be doing but he’s too focused on this fight in front of him to spend too much time on the thought.

The earlier lizalfos gets up again with Time’s original sword impaled right through it. The tip of the blade is poking out of the armor and it’s disconcerting how easily its still able to move around despite the major damage it should be doing to all its internal organs. From what little he can see, he can see black blood dribble down from his weapon onto the ground in front of him.

It’s infected.

Now he’s really glad he’s joined your side.

“Aces, how many are left?” He hears you ask over your heavy panting. He doesn’t think he’s the one you’re asking but he answers regardless.

“There can’t be that much left.” Time keeps his eye on the lizard, stepping ever so slightly to the side to keep the enemy’s eyes on him instead of you. He’s prepared to use his body as a shield if it meant your safety.

“Time.” You say and he can actually feel you lean against him. “I’m so tired.”

That’s probably the worst thing you could have said to him.

“You have to keep fighting.” He urges. “We’re not done yet.”

Time’s beginning to feel the buds of sheer terror for your well being.

“I know.” You sigh.

The lizard roars in his direction and charges toward you head on.

Time readies himself and times his swing. 

He knocks the lizard away again, cutting deeply into its side and nearly cutting off its arm in the process.

Time can feel you collide against him when another beast crashes into you and spins as fast as he can when you actually fall to the ground. He knocks the lower bokoblin away and reaches down to help you to your feet.

He grabs your shoulder and retracts his hand like he’s been burned.

His hand comes back covered in blood. All of the back of your neck is soaked and your hair is sticking in clumps because of it.

You have a deep head injury and he didn’t even know it.

The others are nowhere near you and there’s still an infected beast nearby with more monsters coming in behind you two.

Time thinks for a minute that this might actually it for him.

You won’t last much longer and Time can’t protect you with this many monsters flooding the area, even less so when there’s an infected one still standing.

You growl and try to hold yourself higher, to keep fighting, to keep going and defend.

He’s emboldened by your strive to go until the end and he focuses on the infected beast.

Time says with your name in the moment of pause, where both sides catch their breath.

“Yeah?” You reply breathlessly. 

“I need you to know something. It’s incredibly important that you know this.” Time grips his sword tight and swallows harshly.

“Now?”

“It’s now or never.”

“Time, you’re scaring me.”

“I love you.” He blurts out as confidently as he thinks he can manage. “I love you so much. On the chance that you make it out of here-” Because you will make it out of here, so help him- if the gods will grant him this one thing- “-I need you to know this. You need to know that I am completely in love with you.”

“Now?! You’re telling me this now?” You shout but he doesn’t turn around to look at you. The lizard is watching him, waiting for him to make a move. You call him again. “Link?”

You sound so quiet and weak. Time doubts that you’ll both actually get out of here.

“Link don’t do this to me. Not now. Not like this.” You sound on the verge of tears.

“Believe me, this not how I wanted this.” He admits and blinks away his own tears at the thought of it.

“Would you have ever told me if it didn’t come to this?” You ask and he goes to answer but the lizard get impatient and strikes first.

Time meets it halfway and blocks its attack. He’s quick to push it off and he belatedly hears you hop into your own fight once more. It’s already sounding difficult.

“Link!” He hears you cry and he nearly breaks down into sobs at how desperate you sound. “Time!”

He can’t go to you.

He can’t disengage.

“Link please!”

“I’m sorry.” He mummers. He knows you can’t hear him but he can’t risk the infected getting close to you.

“OH THANK GOD!” You shout and there’s the sounds of the boys.

Backup has arrived.

The split second in his distraction was what the lizard was waiting for. It strikes Time in his shoulder and he can’t stop the cry of agony that rips through him. It’s enough force that it knocks him onto the ground and to his knees. He picks up his sword and swing upwards slicing the beast through its armor and clicking against his other sword.

Wolfie comes up from the side and is quick to sink his teeth into the gizzard of the lizard, ripping and riding the beast down as it falls over. Time ditches his giant’s knife and jumps onto the beast next to the wolf. He reaches over despite his wound and grips the hilt of the impaled sword. 

In one swift movement he pulls it out and rams it through the head. He keeps stabbing until it is no longer moving. He sees one of the others come next to him and also begin stabbing the monster to hell and back.

He stops after what feels like an eternity and he’s struggling to breath. He wipes at his brow, nods to Wolfie and Sky, now that he sees him and spins on his heel to turn the rest of the group.

Hyrule, Legend and Wild are all crowding around you, each with their own manner of trying to heal your numerous injuries. Time feels relief flood his system and he falls to his knees, not caring if he stains his armor with the black blood that’s pooled beneath him.

He pauses to take his breath and he closes his eyes as the calm descends on the atmosphere.

“Time.” He hears you fight the others after a moment. “Where’s Time? I need to see Time. Where is he?”

“You’re covered in blood. You’re head isn’t even close to being fully healed.” Hyrule scolds.

“I have to yell at Time.” You speak.

“Don’t stand!”

“Where is he?”

“Sit down! We’re almost done!”

“I have to see him!” You cry and Time bites his lip at the desperation in your voice.

“I’m here.” He calls out. “Take care of yourself first. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.” You reply and somehow make your way closer.

Time forces his eyes open and sits straighter when he sees you wobble your way over determinedly. You fight off anyone who tries to grab you or guide you to him, making your way to him by your own power.

He looks up at you, speechless and so full of hope and concern.

You fall onto your knees next to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

Time hisses slightly and pulls your arm away from his wound. You whine at the notion and readjust yourself to lay against his chest instead, hands by his collar bone instead and your head on his good shoulder. Time instinctually wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight, the weight of the fight lifted from his shoulders and what could have been from the front of his mind.

“Did we miss something?” Wind whispers from the back.

“Let them have this.” Warrior replies.

Relief flutters over his shoulder and the aches around his body. Time glances upwards for a moment to see Wild unleash a fairy and Hyrule on his knees next to the two of you.

You relax even more against him and sigh, stretching your head upwards. Your breath tickles the shell of his ear and Time has to suppress the shudder of pleasure that follows.

“I love you too Link.” You whisper and Time curls over you ever so slightly at your admission. “That was the worst timing in history. Never scare me like that again.”

He nods and you smile against his neck.

Feeling warm and giddy, Time finds himself smiling back and leans his head against yours.

You’re ok.

You’re both ok.

Part 2

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #it's looonnnggg #the sass is lacking a bit #i think #admittedly i wasn't really trying for sass this time around

[denkineptune]

mha date headcanons- boys and girls :))

♡ request: “i love ur blog already, ur writing is so good!!! im so excited to see the content u’ll be posting !! :D since ur taking requests, how abt some date headcanons for the mha boys (or girls if u want!) ?” - @dianangels​ 

♡ thank you for letting me write girls aaa i chose to do some as first date hc. it was kinda hard to keep jirou’s gn because i wanted to reference wlw stereotypes but i succeeded in gender-neutral because i want everyone to be able to enjoy

♡ dedicating part of this to @anxious-botanist​ because she’s the one who inspired the momo cuddles hehe sorry it took so long

♡ fic details: headcanons, fluff, gender-neutral reader, 2nd pov

characters: kaminari, amajiki, jirou, ashido, yaoyorozu

kaminari- arcade

↠AR C ADE   DA T  E

↠you hear me??? arcade!! date!! ideal man, right here, someone claim him immediately or else i will be forced to take ownership

↠he’s super laid back and chill, pretty childish at heart. he only means the best, though, so i think an arcade is exactly what he would go for when taking you on a date! he doesn’t have a lot of money but still wants you to go home with something to remember the date by

↠he buys like $50 worth of tokens and splits it between the two of you, making sure that he tells you which games give the most tickets, because he’s definitely been here enough times to remember

↠his favorite game is either crossy roads or the big bass wheel- he loves crossy roads because of how cute the style is, but also there is impending stress and levels of  d o o m  as you progress further. big bass wheel is basically just gambling, and i think he’s yumeko jabami.

↠he hacks games to make you win sometimes,, his quirk is bascially designed to do this. it’s like he was born just to take you out on this arcade date. he uses his quirk to short circuit the game and trick the computer into giving you hundreds of tickets

↠he just wants to make you happy and see you smile!! there’s not a feeling quite like succeeding at something as silly as an arcade game, but there’s a certain pride to it that he loves seeing on your face. 

↠kaminari only does it a few times, since he knows that you should be earning your prizes ((not that you know when he does it, he’s really cheeky about it))

↠playyyy multiplayers with him! he loves DDR (dance dance revolution)- you do multiple rounds and are equally exhausted by the end of it akdflad you may not be good, and tbh neither is denki, but you still have fun, which is what matters

↠he also loves taking photobooth pictures, he puts on the most horrendous filters and does the dumbest poses, but it’s so adorable. he does the typical one smile, one “serious”, one silly face, one kith > <

↠kami gets cocky,,, it’s just how he is,, he gets overly confident whether or not he’s been on a winstreak

“heyy, y/n! look at my speedrun on this, i’m getting so many tickets, i’ll be able to get a house by the end of it!”

↠and then he CAN’T because he doesn’t get the jackpot eghgdhgeh

↠by the end of the day, you’ve spent hours at the arcade, laughing and screaming with denki as you terrorize the small children. yes, he’s that kind of guy

↠by “terrorize”, i don’t mean like a bully, but he’s unintentionally intimidating kids with his pockets overflowing with ticket chains, a crazed look on his face as he goes absolutely ham on the shooting games

↠there’s electricity coming off of him, kids sometimes have to dodge it when passing by

↠so anyways, by the end of the date, you’re basically being kicked out of the arcade, because, as kami puts it,

“we were here when it opened and i’ll be damned if we’re not here when it closes,”

↠between the two of you, you’ve aquired tens of thousands of tickets??? the employees probably hate y’all, they had to count those beasts of ticket rolls you’ve accumulated during the 10 hours the arcade was open

↠exactly 62,069 tickets (69 go brrr- kaminari’s brain), and you can basically buy the arcade with that currency

↠but here’s the thing: he lets you spend all of it. you heard me, all. of. it. he just wants to see you happy, and the best way he can think of to get a final glorious memory of your smile is to let you spend the tickets as you see fit, this generosity just to see you glowing as you walk out of the building, arms chock full of amazing junk

↠but of course, you’d feel bad if you spent all of it, especially since he was the one who took you out, so you offered him the half of the tickets that were won

“denki, you won most of these with your amAzINg gaming skills, it’s only fair you get to have something too,”

“my prize will be seeing you- your- your-- aw fuck, i forgot the line, it’ll come back to me, just give me a minute.”

↠he tried to be smooth and it failed, but you chuckled at the attempt, so all around, he considered it a success

↠denki gets a lot of dumb things that will probably end up being thrown away soon, but he also gets you a very soft bat stuffed animal that you should treasure and keep forever 

amajiki- a walk and picnic in a japanese garden

↠tamaki is very shy, very socially anxious. he’s the kind to wait for people to leave a section of a store before he goes there, purposely do his errands in the early morning to limit social interaction, and find any excuse to leave a situation. which, tbh, isn’t that all of us?

↠let’s be honest here, if it wasn’t y’alls first date, he’d probably not go anywhere. as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t really care for anything too fancy

↠but he’s convinced himself that he needs to do something reasonably big for your first date to make sure you don’t regret your decision to go out with him. so instead of deciding to stay in, he goes somewhere that’s only slightly anxious for him, but where he still feels comfortable

↠so he’s decided on a japanese tsukiyama garden! these places are beautiful by design, not cheap but not too expensive, and people are obligated by rules to be quiet and keep their hands to themselves

↠nobody goes to a garden to socialize, in fact, i’d argue most people go just to look around, rest, and clear their heads. there’s usually not any screaming children, no quirk usage, no villains, it’s a little safe haven. 

↠bonus: there’s butterflies :))

↠it’s so peaceful, and he gets to focus on you instead of whatever loud noise is making him anxious

↠he brings a picnic basket filled with all your favorite foods, and his! he makes a show out of displaying what he can manifest with different snacks, making a point to eat edible seeds so he can produce flowers for you 🥺🥺🥺

↠you walk around the garden for a few hours, marveling at the decor and how well-maintained everything is. there’s a koi pond, hanging wisteria trees, and multiple gazebos that create a really comfortable and calm environment

↠speaking of koi ponds, amajiki offers to buy you food so you can feed the fish! you stand on a bridge above the pond, sharing the container with him. the sMILE on his face when he watches you throw the food is so pure i’m-

↠he’s the walking embodiment of “uwu”- his face is so calm and his eyes are shining and he can feel his heart swelling with love i am GOING to cry my eyes out 

↠but honestly, he wishes he could stay in this moment forever- you’re happy, he’s happy, and it feels like you two are the only people in the universe. right now, he doesn’t have to worry about school, villain attacks, his future, or anything that makes him anxious; all that he can see right now is how beautiful and at peace you look. he took you out today, and you’re enjoying yourself. this is one of the few things that makes him confident: knowing that he’s able to make you happy

↠tamaki is silently celebrating; you’ve had a good time and he didn’t freak out, so it’s the best possible scenario!

ashido- rollerskating! ((look at her she’s adorable the smile n the eyes aaa))

↠mina is a very energetic and bubbly person, its quite obvious if you’ve spent any amount of time around her

↠for your first date with her, she’d already have a location in mind!!

↠the atmosphere of rollerskating rinks is so electric, she can’t help but feel happy there, and she wants to experience that lovely feeling with you, too :))

↠you enter the rink, and mina is already borderline bouncing off the walls alskdfj

↠whether or not you’ve ever skated before, ashido is super cautious with you- multiple times she’s fallen on her butt while learning how to skate, so unless you’re a pro, she’s watching your every move to make sure you don’t get hurt

“y/n! please be careful- you’re not getting hurt on my watch!”

↠she jabs a thumb in her direction proudly, with the cutest bigass grin on her face awh 🥺🥺🥺she’s really enthusiastic about sharing one of her passions with you

“try to balance, alright? don’t put too much weight on your heel or toes, because then you’ll fall on your butt. here, take my hand and i’ll help you! hey, there you go, you’re doing great!”

↠she pays for everything and will WRESTLE you if you try to disagree aldkfa if you’re the type of person to pay for everything as well, y’all are going to have to fight; mina will not give up

↠ashido comes here a lot, so she’s friendly with all the employees, she has the uncanny ability to make friends wherever she goes ((i mean she’s friends with bakugou,, if she can do that,, she can do anything))

↠she takes one of your hands and backs onto the rink, watching for anyone behind her. once you’re balanced properly, she shows you how to move your feet so that the two of you are in sync

↠skating isn’t super hard to figure out, it’s mostly intuitive, so you’ll get the hang of it quite quickly!! maybe you’re not too fast, but it’s still fun, so it doesn’t matter

↠while you’re moving with care, making sure to focus on your footwork, mina will definitely take the chance to show off her skating skills! she’s moving like crazy, weaving around other people and nearly toppling them over but shh she’s trying to impress you and if i’m being honest??? she’s really fucking good aldkdf 

↠it’s obvious that she loves this hobby, and the fact that she likes you enough to share it with you on your first date is so adorable aaaa

↠mina’s really agile- you don’t know if that’s all the hero training or just something that comes naturally, but the way she moves makes skating look like the easiest goddamn thing in the world-

↠she’s such a romantic, she’s definitely put in a request for the dj to play your favorite song, no matter if it fits the mood or not

↠heavy rock? sure!! as long as you’re having fun, who cares about what other people think? super vulgar rap?? w h y  n o t ? !

↠she just has that extroverted, positive, charming energy that’s infectious

↠you can’t help but feel at ease around her, she’s a genuinely a great person, and what you think the epitome of a hero is

↠all ashido really wants here is to have fun with you- i mean she really likes you, and hopes that she’ll get to go on another date w/ you, so she’s doing everything in her power to woo u

↠and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working 🥺👉👈

jirou- hanging out in her room

↠kyouka jirou, being the more introverted person she is, wouldn’t really want to go somewhere super public, like mina would

↠i also believe that she’d want to be friends (or at least acquaintances) with you before asking you on a date- she’s easily annoyed by people, so i think that she’d need to be comfortable around you if she was to be romantically interested 

↠and you’ve ticked all these boxes! you understand her sarcastic, blunt personality, and find it pretty amusing. beyond all that, she’s kind and caring, and deep down, she aspires to be a hero for all the right reasons. who wouldn’t love her for that?

↠so for your first date with kyouka, i think she’d want to be somewhere quiet and intimate with you. she wouldn’t want any interruptions ((specifically from jammingyay, who enjoys butting his head in other peoples’ business))

↠the most comfortable place for her would be her room, since it’s really just an extension of her personality, and since you’re quite close, she’d be okay with letting you in her private space. she trusts you.

↠just two guys bein dudes 🤠 ((if you’re a girl, it’s just sappho and her friend--))

↠music is one of the biggest things in jirou’s life, and i think she’d want to share it with you. that is, if you’d let her :)) she has dozens of different instruments, so if you want to attempt to learn something, she’d be totally down!! 

↠please show her what kind of music you’re into! no matter what it is, she’ll listen to it. she wants to get to know what kind of person you are when you’re not around other people, and music is a great way to do that. even if you don’t have the same taste as her, she wouldn’t mind, since a) she’ll listen to pretty much anything, she’s not picky; and b) it’s something that you’re showing her, and that’s enough to make her happy

↠she’s not a very formal person, so i think she’d just want to talk to you and hang out. i’d think kyouka would be more of a fan of a gradual relationship, one that starts from friends and slowly evolves into more. and yes, as you can probably tell, i am a sucker for mutual pining and friends-to-lovers tropes-- im a simple hoe 😌

↠she’s super fun to hang out with!! her sense of humor is really snarky, she also enjoys talking shit about people she doesn’t like. if you’re not into that, she’s able to carry on conversation really well. there’s not a moment of awkward silence between you

↠jirou actually really likes talking shit about people hsahsh- as long as it’s someone that’s been mean in some way. she won’t say anything bad about someone who hasn’t done anything to deserve it. but if you’ve wronged her in some way, boy, do you have it COMING

↠by the end of it, i just know your cheeks hurt from laughing 

↠she’s just a really fun person to be around, she may not be the most bubbly person ever, but she’s super easy-going and cool ((jirou bias incoming ekejke))

↠i do think she’d try to sneak some kind of affection if she thinks you’d reciprocate- if you’re really getting along well, she might snake her hand into yours when you’re sitting on the bed, laughing

↠honestly you might not even notice until she stops, because your hand feels empty and cold without her like your heart aa

↠if she’s really into you?? might get a smol peck on the cheek 👉👈 please try to get a smol peck on the cheek, it’s very cute and she gets so flustered

↠she goes up to you as you’re about to leave her room, grabs your shoulder, turns you around, and gives you an adorable if not slightly aggressive smooch

↠then she reFUSES to acknowledge what she just did akdfld- she turns away, beet red, and is completely silent

↠meanwhile you’re probably laughing your ass off because wow she’s so cute

↠kudos if you give one back to her, baby is on the verge of exploding ejkdjf 

↠her heart just can’t handle what you’re doing to her

↠and despite what her appearance is, her heart is doing backflips- she’s whipped <33

momo: tea and c u d d l e s

↠she’s a very fancy person, obviously. yaoyorozu wants only the best for everyone she loves, and that, of course, includes you! she loves showing affection through giving things to others. her family status only magnifies this aspect of her personality, as being born into wealth gives her the means to spoil you rotten

↠and even though she’s bougie as all hell, she also somehow maintains an elegant and simple air about her. it’s impressive, really. it’s not like she tries to flex her money, it’s just a part of her life, and she enjoys using her privilege well

↠that being said, what’s more elegant and mature than going for tea? it’s a lovely pastime that momo would love to include you in! 

↠lowkey,, she’s a whole sugar momma dfkdjla im not even joking- she doesn’t try to be, but virtually everything she does shows how rich she is

↠you arrive at the tea room, and by god is it fancy. there’s multiple chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, which is decorated with classic renaissance-style paintings. all the tables are set with white cloth, plates made of pure fine china, flowers and woven baskets set everywhere to create a cottagecore-like setting. the air about it is so sophisticated, from the patrons (wait is that a celebrity-) to the decorations

↠your face is kinda just,,, 😮,, because what in the world did momo get you into??

“momo, you’re so sweet, and this place is lovely, but don’t you think this is a bit much? not that i don’t absolutely appreciate it, it’s just that this seems really expensive, and i don’t want you to have to spend that much for just one date.”

↠she just chuckles, saying that it was “really nothing” (???? MISS GIRL???)

“don’t worry, y/n, this isn’t too much! i want to have fun today, and this place is so nice! let’s just find a table, alright?”

↠like, hunney, you’re so kind, but this is a LOT

↠but if you say so....

↠she looks at you with the most enthusiastic, wholesome eyes, and soon you’re following her like a puppy towards your table. the waiter sits you down, and leaves, giving you a moment to glaze over the menu to find a drink

↠and there’s so many types of teas, at least 30 on this page alone. you hadn’t even heard of half of these drinks, how would you know if you’d like them?

↠yaomomo seemed to notice your puzzlement, and said that you could get a pot of something simple, like jasmine green or earl grey, and she would get something fancier that you could try. why not?

↠a few minutes later, you’ve already adjusted to the sophisticated and intimidating environment, focusing only on the girl across from you, and how her eyes glittered with happiness

↠she orders a few normal tea foods, like scones with jam, lemon curd, and devonshire cream, and finger sandwiches. the fanciest thing she buys, though, is a blooming tea that arrives in a clear pot. it has an open flower inside of it, which is what the tea is infused with. it’s nearly 16,100 yen for one pot, though, and while you protest its expense, momo reassures you that it’s no problem (you just learned not to say anything about money, as it wouldn’t stop yaoyorozu from spoiling you)

↠ngl, it’s so fun to pretend to be fancy for a few hours at a tea room !! you acted as if you were a member of high society, using stereotypes to exaggerate your actions. it made some people only slightly irritated, but hey, it got a laugh out of a pretty girl, so who’s the real winner? 

↠yaomomo taught you some classy etiquette that you should definitely use, it makes her so happy to think that you’re learning about new things while still enjoying your time with her

↠she makes really good conversation!! her intellect seeps through everything she says, anyone who talks to her would be able to tell that she’s extremely well-spoken and mature. momo is modest, and deflects a lot of the compliments you try to give her, so if you try to display your admiration for her, you’d probably need to be very specific about it. she doesn’t have the best self-image when it comes to her heroism and field work. spoken affection sometimes doesn’t get through to her, but you know what does? physical affection!

↠she loves cuddles, and will regularly take you back to her house after a date to cuddle in her bed. her mattress is legendary, and it’s comfortable as hell. there’s an abundance of pillows and the bed isn’t too soft or too firm, and it’s always somehow an amazing temperature???? mattresses are investments, and this was definitely a good one

↠momo loves the intimacy and trust of holding you, it allows her to escape from overthinking and only focus on you, her beautiful partner. she doesn’t care if she’s the big or little spoon, but her favorite kind of cuddling is when you’re on your back and she’s curled into your side, head tucked under your chin and hand on your chest

↠she can do this for hours, please let her. she feels safe with you, confident, because you’re choosing to spend time with her in this quiet moment instead of being off somewhere else.

↠in conclusion,,, 💕women 💕

-denkineptune

#denkineptune #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #amajiki x reader #denkineptune fic #jirou kyouka x reader #kyouka jirou x reader #kyoka jiro x reader #jiro kyoka x reader #jiro x reader #jirou x reader #momo yaoyorozu x reader #yaoyorozu momo x reader #yaoyorozu x reader #mina ashido x reader #ashido mina x reader #mina x reader

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: VI

“I think I’m catching feelings

And I don’t know if this is empathy I feel

Just hold on

Remember when you said this was the last time?”

Sex, Eden

A/N: okay this chapter has probably been my favourite to write so far because we are finally. finally!!!!!! getting to a lil smidgen of softness!!!!! and the softness will only continue like originally I had a different lyric in mind for this chapter (a hozier lyric to stay on brand) and decided that it was too soft so I stocked it away to use in the future when things get even sweeter and harry gets even dumber 😌 we really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! and please remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated!!!! not just by us but by all content creators!!!!! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it!!!! spreading content keeps creators motivated!!!!! and so do messages about what you liked!!!! it lets us know what sort of vibe to add in later!!!! okay now that that’s out of the way!!!! let’s dive in 😼  

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

word count: 29.1k

content/warnings: a good healthy dose of denial and justification to deny feelings, the defamation of gherkin pickles, pet names (literally), a strong independent woman who don’t need no man, a (not quite) man who definitely needs a strong independent woman, brunch served with a side of emotional trauma, breaking promises, nsfw social distancing, and Harry once again ignoring the phrase “bros before hoes”

///

Harry knows he’s good at a lot of things.

He’s good at picking up on fashion trends and turning them into timeless styles, molding each piece to fit his own persona with ease.  He’s good at identifying the locational origins of wines within five seconds of the sweet liquid crossing over his tongue.  He’s good at mixing his own drinks as well, always managing to craft the perfect concoction that suits each drinker’s needs.  He’s good at creating gallery walls in his apartment, at charming anyone into giving him what he wants with a slip of his mouth, and at pissing off his friends until they’re threatening to stake him just to get a little peace and quiet.  Harry is good at chess, at reciting poetry from memory, and at painting his non-dominant hand’s fingernails without smudging any nail polish onto his icy skin.  Harry is fucking excellent at coaxing orgasms out from his lovers.  He knows that he’s good at a lot of things.

The issue, he realizes the day after he asks Y/N out on a real date, is that planning a real date is not one of those things.

This, Harry rationalizes to himself, is not his fault.  After all, the last time he’d been on a real date was during the Victorian era, and Harry is fairly certain that taking a chaperoned stroll around his beloved’s estate garden isn’t in fashion anymore.  And when the way all of those dates ended is taken into account, Harry doesn’t think his past experiences should be the marker for a good date, anyways.  

It’s this frustrating lack of knowledge that leads Harry to do what he always does when he doesn’t know the answer to something: he Googles it.

With the top of the line Macbook Harry had purchased a few months back with the money from a CEO of some candle company perched on his lap, Harry relaxes back onto his leather couch, kicking his brown boots up onto the matching footrest as he does so.  Once the search engine is open and the cursor is blinking in front of his face, however, the vampire pauses, his manicured fingernails perched over the keys.  What question could he possibly Google for his situation?

Harry twists his lion head ring around his cool finger as he thinks, his tongue tucked between his lips in concentration while potential queries run through his head.  Ideas for a first date with a girl you’ve been fucking for a month.  Things to do in L.A. with a mortal when you’re a two hundred year old vampire.  Places to take someone after drinking their blood.  A snort echoes from Harry’s throat as the last idea pops into his head.  Somehow, Harry isn’t confident in what results those questions will show him.

Tapping his black lacquered nails against the keys, Harry purses his lips as he loses himself in thought.  How had he even gotten himself into this position?  The reason he hasn’t planned a date in centuries is because he doesn’t date, and for good reason.  What use does a soulless vampire have for dating?  Mortals use romantic outings to open their hearts to one another, and Harry, in contrast, can’t open what he doesn’t have. 

Despite his wondering, however, he knows exactly how he got himself into this situation: he let himself get jealous of a fake-tanned, shaggy-haired idiot named Jacob, a name that Harry despises on principle alone.  It had been a perfectly fine name until that awful Meyer woman decided to make it one of the banes of Harry’s existence.  And while Harry doesn’t have a particularly forgiving nature, he had just finally begun to get over the association, but thanks to that hallway confrontation at the end of Y/N’s date with the obtusely orange fool, Harry is now reminded that he will forever hate the name with a burning passion.  And shaggy hair.  And fake tans. And while the irony of him, a vampire—with a middle name of Edward, for Christ’s sake—hating an insignificant mortal named Jacob, simply because he dared to make a pass at the object of Harry’s fascination, is not lost on him, all of that was pushed aside the moment Harry smelled the perfume his fascination wore for the mortal boy. 

Y/N never wears perfume for him. And though she had assured him that her dressing up had been for him, he can’t shake the fact that Jacob had gotten to experience it first. 

It’s not that Y/N needs to wear perfume for him.  In fact, if Harry’s being honest with himself, he likes that she doesn’t spritz artificial scents all over her body before letting him into her home and between her legs.  She has one of the sweetest natural scents Harry’s ever had the pleasure of inhaling, all lavender and honey and utterly intoxicating.  Of course, as all mortals are, Y/N is unaware of the mouth watering fragrance that drips from her skin, while Harry is all too aware of it at all times, but her obliviousness to her natural scent doesn’t change the fact that Harry would bathe in it if he could.  If it were possible, Harry would pump an entire room full of her personal cloud of lavender and honey, lay back on the floor, turn down the lights, spark a joint, and let himself get lost in the very thought of her.  That would be Harry’s personal definition of Nirvana.

But Y/N isn’t aware of her natural, skin sweetening aroma like Harry is, which means two things.  Firstly, that Y/N doesn’t feel the need to smear anything unnatural on her body to attract Harry; she knows she doesn’t need to go through all that trouble.  And that was fine with Harry, until he realized the second thing, which is that there potentially could be someone that Y/N would go to all that trouble for if he doesn’t keep her entertained and occupied.  She had told him her date with Jacob hadn’t been on her terms, and that she’d done it just to be courteous towards a co-worker, but that doesn’t sedate the truth: There will always be a maddening possibility that occasions could come into play in which Y/N will spray a choking cloud of gardenia and freesia over herself, all in the hopes of appealing a suitor.  The issue is that in those hypothetical cases, the suitor Y/N would be trying to impress wouldn’t be Harry.

Actually, that’s only the first issue. The second issue is that it could be another fraternity moron with an equally stupid name. 

After the vampire had come upon Y/N ending her date in front of her door, just minutes before their own rendezvous was scheduled, Harry had felt an initial burst of blind rage, and everything after is a blur.  He vaguely remembers trying to make Jacob uncomfortable and delighting in how he succeeded, until he saw the anger on Y/N’s sweet face.  He remembers a brief discussion about limits and honesty, and about how she was only interested in him, and that he shouldn’t waste his time stressing about her supposedly dormant dating life.  And, most importantly, he remembers asking Y/N to accompany him on a real date, one that would blow her date with the VeggieTales carrot out of the water.

Now, of course, he’s beginning to regret his impulsive decision, purely for the fact that he now has to figure out how to woo a mortal girl just enough to keep her away from creeps with horribly coiffed hair.

And yet, despite this regret…there’s something new curling inside his belly as he types the phrase date ideas for L.A. into the search bar, the blinking cursor reflecting in his eyes before he presses the enter key and millions of results pop up.  Ah, the joys of the internet, he thinks as he scours the results with inhuman speed.  It’ll take Harry a few different clicks to find the perfect activity for himself and Y/N, and his hyperfocus on the topic will stop him from over analyzing that new feeling twisting inside him.

It’s a win-win situation, if he can say so himself.

Harry’s halfway through the first disappointing article (somehow, he doesn’t think taking Y/N on a hike is very romantic) when the door to his condo opens and reveals Mitch in the frame, dressed in his usual casual attire, this time of blue jeans and a plaid shirt.  Harry has spent the last century trying to refine the older vampire’s taste in clothing, even going so far as to once donate the entirety of Mitch’s closet to a homeless shelter, but all his efforts have been in vain, as his friend still insists on wearing the standard (and boring) style for every decade they’ve lived through together.

“Hey,” Mitch greets from the end of the corridor with a nonchalant nod, shutting the door behind himself before sauntering further into the living room. “Thought we were meeting at the bar at eight?”

It takes Harry a moment to remember the agreement Mitch refers to, his brow creasing as his eyes flicker to the corner of his computer screen.  By the time he registers the numbers 8:41 shining back at him, the memory of agreeing to get drinks with Mitch after his evening gig has resurfaced. “Fuck, I’m sorry.  I lost track of time.”

“I thought so.” Mitch moves the decorative pillow next to Harry on the couch, taking a seat in his usual spot. His voice is slightly sarcastic as he gives Harry a knowing look. “That’s been happening a lot lately.  Lapses in your memory and such.”

“It's old age, I suppose.” Harry’s lips quirk up in amusement, although he knows that Mitch’s comment is pointed towards a subject they’re both acquainted with, courtesy of Harry’s absence on their annual Vegas trip about a week prior. “It’s finally getting to me.”

The long-haired immortal makes a vague sound of humorous acknowledgement, but offers no other response as he turns his gaze to the younger vampire. 

Harry watches as his friend’s expert eyes appraise his appearance, examining how the older vampire takes note of the messy state of Harry’s hair that indicates he’s been tugging on it in frustration, the redness of his lips, the way he’s curled over his open laptop.  Although he makes no further comment on Harry’s newfound tendencies, his brows furrow in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh—” The amusement is replaced by an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness that sweeps through Harry’s entire body. “I’m doing research.”

When he’s given no other explanation, Mitch prompts his younger friend. “On?”

“I...asked that girl from the club out on a date— Y/N. Like, I invited her on a proper one.” Harry elaborates, twisting his lionhead ring around his finger as he speaks. “But I don’t really know, like, what to do with her.  I’m a little out of touch with what a typical twenty-something woman wants to do on a real date.”

And this is another thing Harry is usually good at— being confident and sure of himself.  Normally, he speaks with ease and a nonchalant cadence to his words, lacking any worry about how he’ll be perceived.  Harry knows what he wants, and knows how to articulate it.  Right now, however, he feels the complete opposite.  There’s a tension aching its way through his muscles and settling into the pit of his stomach, curling around those organs that haven’t been truly needed in years, and the utterly bemused expression weaving its way onto Mitch’s face doesn’t help.

The quiet vampire cocks his head to the side upon receiving this news, propping one foot up onto Harry’s coffee table and addressing him with a mocking air. “Why are you taking her on an actual date? From what you’ve told me— which isn’t much, and that strains our best friend reputation, if I’m being honest— I thought you two had an...understanding?”

“We did.  We do.” Harry stumbles over his words as he half shuts the laptop, setting it down on the coffee table and giving Mitch’s foot a quick playful shove off the lacquered surface as he repositions himself. “But she went on a date with someone else, so I have to—”

“Are you jealous?” His friend cuts over him with an incredulous tone, and the disbelief sends a flare of something akin to shame through Harry’s body. “Because she had a date?”

“I’m not jealous.” With a firm voice, Harry manages to scoff at the very notion. “I may be a monster, but my eyes are red, not green. It’s just—”

“Well, technically, they are.”

The immortal ignores the shit-eating correction. “—occurred to me that our arrangement will end if Y/N starts seeing some mortal bloke. So, if she wants a relationship, then I can fabricate one for her.”

Although the excuse slips off his tongue easily enough, Harry refuses to meet Mitch’s eyes as he picks up his laptop and opens it again, clicking his way onto another article in the search results.  The older vampire’s stare feels as if it’s scorching his icy skin, and Harry can’t exactly say he enjoys the sensation, but it’s better than the alternative of admitting to Mitch—and to himself—that he may harbour the smallest trace of feelings for the human girl.

However, Mitch seems to buy the rushed explanation. “Fabricate a relationship?” He repeats, scratching the base of his chin slowly. “Doesn’t that seem a little...cruel?”

“It’s not.  It’s only for a bit, and once I’m done with her, I’ll probably just…” The words lodge in his throat for some unknown reason, but he forces them out. “I’ll probably just wipe myself from her mind, and she…” Harry’s sharp teeth tug on his plump bottom lip. “She won’t remember me.  It’ll be fine.”

Yes, Harry repeats to himself as he scrolls through all the results Google has to offer.  It’ll be fine.  It has to be fine, really, because what’s the alternative?  Harry’s kind aren’t exactly built for a long term commitment to anyone that’s less than immortal.  The kindest thing for him to do would be to let Y/N go now, without having to use compulsion at all.  It would be so simple, he thinks.  One small text, a few words along the lines of “it’s not working out, and we probably shouldn’t see each other again, I’m sorry. H.” would probably suffice.  And surely she’d be a little upset, but she’s mortal, and a mortal’s feelings never stay the same for long.  It would take her a few weeks, or maybe a month at most to get over the creature she’d begun a casual sexual relationship with.  Within a year, Harry and their short-lived friendship would be nothing but a small blip in her memory, and she’d be moved on to someone else.

Harry can see her future so clearly that he almost believes it’s shining through his laptop screen like an old film.  Y/N, going back out for the first time after Harry breaks things off.  Y/N, bumping into a handsome stranger with a bright smile and dull eyes.  Y/N, slumped over her kitchen table and fighting a hangover as the stranger hands her a cup of coffee.  Y/N and the stranger going for dinner.  Walking hand in hand.  Kissing goodnight at the door.  

Harry’s mind spins through scenarios faster and faster, racing through every possible future for Y/N before he can even take another breath.  Although some scenarios have different paths, different breakups, different faces, they always end at the very same place: Y/N in a white dress, walking down a flower strewn aisle, and taking the warm hand of someone who is not Harry.

If Harry needed to breathe, the wind would’ve been knocked out of him the moment he pictured those warm hands with blood pulsing beneath the skin lifting Y/N’s veil, cupping her flushed cheek, and sealing their lips to hers.  It’s a perfectly normal image.  A human pledging themselves to another human.  It’s natural, by human standards, as they seem to value monogamy over everything else.  The path Harry is seeing is the path Y/N was always meant to take.  So why does it make his icy blood curdle?

Mitch, who seems to be completely unaware of the wild road map his friend’s mind has just drawn, speaks out his concerns in a quiet but careful voice. “Are you sure you’re not getting too attached?” He asks, gauging Harry’s reaction to his question as if it’s a catastrophic statement. “You’ve been spending more and more time with her, you blew off the Vegas trip for the first time…” The older vampire gives a soft shrug of his shoulders. “If it were just for sex and blood, that would be one thing, but it’s almost like you’re getting…addicted to her.” 

Although the statement first brings a laugh to Harry's strawberry lips, the initial chuckle quickly fades away as the gravity of Mitch’s statement hits its recipient.  Certainly, he feels an indescribable draw to Y/N, but he knows, deep down, that any addiction he has to her is more so to her blood than anything else.  After all, what else could he possibly indulge?  The last time Harry let himself be addicted to a person, he ended up with a broken neck and newfound bloodlust.  He’s learned since then.  He’s not so naïve, or so foolish, as to let his emotions wander like that again. He knows better.

“There’s no addiction—I just like her blood more than others, that’s all.” Harry assures his friend, tapping his thumb against the band of his mother’s opal ring. “I know I’ve been a bit of a flake lately, but it’s just while I have her around.  I’ll get tired of her eventually; I always do.” He deliberately flashes his crimson eyes at his friend with a knowing smirk. “And then all it’ll take is a few choice words to take care of whatever lingering marks—metaphorical or otherwise— I’ve left on her, and it’ll all be done, and in the past. You know me, mate. Sometimes I like playing with my food.”

That last sentence makes his mouth go sour, almost as if his body is punishing him for uttering something so indifferently ruthless. Especially because deep down, there’s the smallest seed of doubt in his speech— the tiniest hint of uncertainty, telling him that the detachment he is playing up is not true. 

Harry forces it to be true. It has to be. Both for his sake, and Y/N’s. 

Mitch spends a long few minutes gazing into the blood red irises marching his stare, determined to find a crack in their façade. However, Harry’s good at hiding his feelings, given that he’s had decades of practice on how to keep a thick curtain draped over his innermost thoughts. He won’t let anyone see his weaknesses anymore, no matter how microscopic they might be. 

When the older monster’s search turns up empty, he repents with a long sigh, waving his hands free of the whole affair. “Whatever, Harry.  You seem to know what you’re doing.  Just be careful, alright?”

“I do know what I’m doing, thank you.” Harry elects to ignore the last statement Mitch tacked on, and instead flips his laptop around to show his friend his findings with a triumphant—albeit, forced—grin. “I’m doing brunch.  Google says girls Y/N’s age like brunch, and that the Persimmon Pantry in downtown L.A. has authentic crepes that are to die for.”

“Too bad you’re already dead.” The older vampire deadpans, pushing the laptop closed and raising himself from the couch into a standing position, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “If you’re going to be dating a mortal, do we get to meet her?  Because I think Niall may need a bit of a heads up after the accidental run in that happened last time—”

“Do you usually meet my meals?” Harry counters easily as he sets his laptop aside, standing to escort Mitch to the door. “Don’t be sentimental, Mitch.  I’m certainly not.”

When Mitch’s eyes meet his own once again, there’s a degree of clarity running through them that nearly stops Harry in his tracks. “Aren’t you?” Mitch asks, voice neutral by careful control. 

Harry sucks in a quick breath out of habit, pasting a bright expression over his face in lieu of actually revealing his swirling insides. “Not since I learned my lesson.” He says easily, tapping two fingers over his dormant carotid artery with a sly smile. 

The casual act does the trick, and Mitch’s eyes roll in a familiar jesting fashion as he steps towards the door. “Right.  You’ve got it under control, then.”

“All under control.” The words slip off Harry’s dry tongue like honey, his sweet cadence filling the space between them. “Not to worry.”

///

Y/N thinks this may be the most out of control she’s ever felt her entire life.

A few weeks ago, she would’ve said that taking Harry home from the club was the most out of control she’s ever been.  And three months ago, dropping her whole life and moving to L.A. might have been the answer to that question.  And another three months from now, Y/N might get herself into the middle of a new entirely stupid act— which is completely probable, given her track record— and that’ll become the new marker for the most out of control thing she’s done.  But right now, at this moment, the most out of control thing she’s done is say yes to Harry asking her out to brunch.

When compared to everything else she’s done with Harry—and let Harry do to her—brunch may seem entirely harmless, but it’s the connotation behind it that scares her.  Harry is taking her on a date.  A real date.  A date to a brunch restaurant, at 11 A.M. on a Sunday, when it’ll be completely bright outside, and people will see them together.  A date with both of them in presentable situations, rather than being coated in sweat and completely dressed.  A date where Harry refrains from whispering the filthiest fucking shit Y/N has ever heard into her ear, although she wouldn’t put it past him trying to do that over a plate of avocado toast.

Harry is taking her on a date.  And last time Y/N checked, she wasn’t exactly good at those.

Her ex hadn’t really been the romantic type, to say the least.  Their dates typically revolved around their high school’s dance and athletic schedules.  Bradley took her to homecoming and to prom, and football games on Friday nights, where all her friends would meet them at a diner after their school— more often than not— lost.  He would take her on long drives where they got nowhere fast, with the two of them sitting in silence, and his music playing through the speakers.  She went over to his house once a week for dinner.  He’d take her to a movie every second Saturday.  And while it was all fine, none of it was very romantic. ‘Robotic’ is a more appropriate term.

And even with the fear of actual romance aside, Y/N has no idea what to discuss on a first date with someone.  She had already known a lot about her ex when they began going out, so there wasn’t a period of “getting to know you” that needed to happen.  The few first dates she’d had after him hadn’t been stellar, or even noteworthy.  If anything, they had been guides for what not to do on a first date.  And the funniest thing is that, while she’s fairly sure her last first date had been the catalyst for Harry asking her out, the actual date itself had been awful.  But if she’s right, and that was the factor that set Harry off, then maybe she should be grateful for all those awful dates from her past, because Harry, in contrast to all those horrible dates, is different in every conceivable way.

Harry is just different.  When she speaks, he listens.  When he looks at her, he really looks at her, and he sees her in a way she’s not sure she’s ever been seen before.  And, honestly, he has seen her in ways she’s never been seen before, and that’s exactly what Y/N is worried about.  How do you sip a mimosa with someone at the Persimmon Pantry after they’ve throat fucked you on your couch, or bent you over the kitchen counter, or handcuffed you to their bed?  How do you ask someone about their favourite movie when they’ve coaxed multiple orgasms from you over the phone as Sinister played from the TV screen?  How do you listen as someone tells you about their childhood dog when the last dog you were concerned about was the position they bent you into as they spread your—

Y/N clears her throat and shakes her head of the thought, reevaluating her heated complexion in the mirror that hangs on the back of her bedroom door. “Stop it.” She mutters to herself, attempting to give her reflection a stern look. “You’re not going to be able to make it through this if you’ve thrown the towel in before Harry’s even picked you up.”

And that’s another thing, Y/N thinks, as she opens her bedroom closet and begins searching through it for something acceptable to wear.  Harry insisted on picking her up, even though the restaurant he chose was a fifteen minute walk from her apartment.  She’d brought this up to him when he asked her to brunch over the phone (which is a whole other thing in and of itself— he only called her when he had his hand wrapped around his cock and needed her voice to finish himself off; wouldn’t a text have been sufficient?), but Harry had blown off her concern without a second thought.

“Part of taking you on a date is picking you up, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but the Persimmon Pantry is between our apartments.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to meet there?  Then you wouldn’t waste your time driving past it to get me.”

“I don’t consider anything involving you to be a waste of time.” Harry had answered immediately, his voice stern, but still allowing a vein of tenderness to run underneath it. “Is that your only concern, then?  Me picking you up?”

No, Y/N had thought.  It’s not my only concern, but how the fuck do I explain everything else?

“Yeah.” Y/N had answered tightly, her voice weak. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, it’s not a concern of mine, so don’t worry.  I’ll pick you up at 10:45 Sunday morning.” And then there had been a pause, full of baited breath and nerves, before Harry’s thick accent rang through her phone again. “I can’t wait to see you.”

Those parting words had sat in her stomach since, warm and cozy and inviting, keeping a soft, constant glow filtering in her veins until the end of the week came. 

Y/N glances at the blinking clock beside her bed.  It’s 10:17 now, a couple days after that conversation, which means she has less than half an hour to pick something to wear, style her hair that’s currently dripping wet from her shower, and throw on enough makeup to cover up the bags under her eyes that have been developing over the last few nights.  After becoming so used to sleeping with Harry next to her every weekend, Y/N is now finding that not having him in her bed, smoothing her hair and rubbing her cheek as she cuddles into his cool chest is prohibiting her from getting a good night’s sleep.

Another concern, certainly, but not one she can deal with at this moment.  The best she can do is smear on some concealer and hope for the best, and with that in mind, Y/N turns her full attention to her evaluation of her closet.

“Brunch,” She murmurs to herself, slowly pushing her clothing apart to examine each article. “We’re going to brunch.  What do you wear to brunch?”

Brunch, she decides after a moment of consideration, is casual, but not sloppy casual, so jeans and a t-shirt are off the table.  It’s Sunday casual, like the outfits her mother would pick out for her to wear to Sunday afternoon teas with the other church women once she turned 15 and had to “start acting like a lady.”  Sunday casual, Y/N thinks, but maybe not those outfits.  The raised necklines and starched collars had made her neck itch the entire time, and she had picked at the hemlines of her dresses under tables until the seams began to unravel.  Sunday casual, but more of her actual style.  Sunday casual, but sluttier, maybe?  Could one describe Sunday casual as slutty?

Y/N groans as she takes a step back from her closet, clutching her towel to her chest with a tense hand.  Maybe she’s going about this the wrong way.  Maybe she should try to match Harry…? 

A sharp snort falls from Y/N’s mouth.  Yeah, like she could ever match Harry.  Harry, who is so obsessed with labels that even his handcuffs are embossed with the Gucci logo.  Harry, who is so attractive that it’s almost otherworldly.  Harry, who can make her tiny apartment look like a New York Fashion Week runway by simply walking down the corridor of her entrance.  Matching Harry is almost impossible.  She could show up in a full length gown, and Harry would still outshine her in a graphic t-shirt and flared jeans.

“Hey.” Y/N chastises herself lightly, catching her judgemental eye in her mirror once again. “Stop it.  Don’t be mean to yourself, just...just pick something to wear.  It shouldn’t be this hard.”

After returning to her closet search and trying on a few different combinations, Y/N finally settles on an outfit consisting of a pale yellow sundress with a sweetheart neckline and tea length skirt, but dresses it down with a denim jacket and a pair of cotton candy coloured vans.  It’s bright and fun, but still casual enough that it looks like she just threw it on.  

“Oh, this old thing?”  Y/N raises her eyebrows in mock surprise as she moves to her bathroom to begin to tackle her hair.  She keeps practicing the imaginary conversation in the mirror with herself, and while she knows she sounds insane, it oddly keeps her nerves in check. “Oh, I just pulled it out of my closet a few minutes before you got here.  Haven’t worn it in years.  Do you like it?” The mortal pauses as she reaches for her makeup, deciding to keep herself to a more natural look for the day. “Thank you, Harry, that’s so sweet.  You look nice, as well.”

She lightly fills her brows before sweeping some neutral eyeshadow over her lids, pausing her muttering to herself to concentrate on drawing her eyeliner as neatly as she likes.  Once she’s satisfied with that, she moves to mascara, adding a thin coat to her lashes and blotting off the makeup she smudges underneath her eye by mistake.  When that’s finished, the young woman takes a step back from the mirror, appraising her appearance.

It’s not awful, honestly.  She could do worse.  In fact, if it weren’t for the ball of anxiety currently twisting its way through Y/N’s stomach, she might even praise herself for the cute and casual look she’s managed to pull off.

“You look good.” She murmurs to her reflection as she reaches for her small silver hoops, slipping them through her lobes with a quick and practiced motion. “Good job.” With her eyes locked on her reflection, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Today is going to be fine.  Better than fine, actually.  And it would probably go better if you stopped talking to yourself, so maybe let’s get that in check before Harry gets here—?”

As if on cue, a now familiar knock on her front door causes the mortal’s mouth to snap shut, clamping off the rest of her third person monologue.  When she makes a quick pause to straighten her jacket and fetch her over-the-shoulder woven bag, Y/N impulsively decides to grab her favourite perfume bottle, giving her body a quick spritz before making her way to the door and opening it with breathless anticipation.

Harry, of course, looks fucking incredible.  Although his casual outfit consists of a black short sleeved button up shirt tucked into white slacks, Harry manages to work the whole number like a model.  His usual cross necklace, unique rings, and stately single cross earring adorn his body, drawing Y/N’s eyes to the glint of the metals as a pair of black sunglasses sit atop the man’s defined nose.  He meets Y/N’s eyes behind them, a grin beginning to paint itself over his cherry lips as his jeweled hand pushes the sunglasses from his face and into his chestnut locks, revealing his bright jade gaze full of genuine kindness. 

“Well, look at you. Proper model now, aren’t you, Miss Urban Outfitters?” Harry’s voice takes on a casual tone, but the flirty phrase sends a shiver of pleasure down Y/N’s spine. “You look so fucking good in yellow, love.  Why have I never seen you in yellow before?”

The shiver of pleasure reverberates throughout Y/N’s entire body. “Maybe because I’m usually naked when I’m around you?” She retorts quickly, reaching to the little hook next to her door to grab her keys. 

“Hm.  That’s true.” The pleased cadence in Harry’s voice catches Y/N’s ear over the click of the door lock. “Guess you go for the Victoria’s Secret look more often, hm? Though I’m not complaining. You look just as good in lace.” 

“Thanks. But not today, I guess.” Y/N says quietly as she pushes down the heat boiling her face, unable to bite her tongue before the words slip out. “We’re on a real date today.”

“Right you are, Watson.” Harry grins cheekily as he motions for the girl to walk past him, following closely with a guiding hand on the small of her back. “We’re on a real date.  It’s probably a little overdue, but you know what they say...better late than never, right?”

The moment she takes a step past him, it hits Harry.  Although her delectable signature scent of lavender and honey is still there, it’s faintly hidden behind the nearly overpowering scent of gardenia and freesia he smelled last time he was in her hallway, when that oafish buffoon had the audacity to try and seduce her.  And despite the fact that Harry prefers Y/N’s natural fragrance to any other scent on the planet, knowing that she took the time to spritz herself with perfume before greeting him brings a dimpled smile to his face.  Harry considers making a comment about it, but bites it back at the last moment.  The last thing he needs is to have to explain why he pays such particular attention to Y/N’s scent.

When the pair exit the apartment building, Harry takes the lead in front of Y/N, unlocking his flashy car with a click of the remote and opening the passenger door with ease.  He extends a hand, grasping the mortal girl’s hand in his own with care as he helps her into the car.  The click of the car door shutting comes a moment later than expected as Harry pauses to fix the hem of Y/N’s dress, making sure it’s free of the doorway before closing the door without clamping the light fabric.

Harry doesn’t even think twice before readjusting Y/N’s skirt, with the move coming as naturally to him as breathing once did, and merely notes the stuttering of Y/N’s heartbeat with a half hidden smug smile.  It’s not until he’s in the driver’s seat and stopped at a red light that he realizes what that stuttering rhythm is indicating.

Y/N is tense.  Even without his supernatural abilities that allow him to hear her heart, register her strained breathing, and feel the energy radiating from her body, Harry would be able to tell that some part of her feels...uncomfortable.  Nervous, even.  But for what?  What about Harry—aside from the obvious that the human is unaware of—could make her nervous?  After the countless hours in bed together, the lazy Saturday afternoons, the kitchen singalongs, Harry would think that Y/N would be as comfortable with him as he is with her.  After all she’d shown him when they have sex—

Huh.  Maybe that’s it, Harry thinks, giving the mortal a quick look from the corner of his eye.  The light ahead of them turns green, and Harry continues to ponder his realization as he presses on the gas.  If sex has become the norm for them, then maybe a date is outside of her comfort zone.  Or maybe, now that her brain isn’t fogged by the endorphins that roll through her veins whenever Harry coaxes an orgasm from her trembling body, Y/N is realizing how unnatural it feels to be around Harry.  

As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, humans aren’t dumb.  If they get too close to someone of Harry’s kind, some sharp-sighted mortals begin to sense that there’s something different about them.  Aside from the easy targets and quick decisions, part of the reason that picking up meals in clubs works so well for Harry and his friends is that a mortal’s senses are dulled in the flashing lights and inebriated atmosphere of a club.  If Y/N is beginning to sense that there’s something different about Harry, or if she’s beginning to feel uneasy about being around him, then she must be wondering why.  In Harry’s experience, mortals will relate their uncomfortable feelings about the supernatural into something they have more experience with to make sense of it all, and if that’s what Y/N is doing, then she’s probably attributing her newfound discomfort towards Harry trying to take advantage of her.  If he could read her mind, he might see a horrific scene playing out like an old movie: Harry buying her a meal, soaking her rational thinking in mimosas and other drinks spiked with God knows what, and then helping her back to his car, where he drives her back to his apartment, practically carrying her inebriated body through the door towards his bedroom…

The car takes a sharp right turn into the restaurant parking lot, and Harry guides it to a spot with his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.  The idea of Y/N thinking him capable of that, capable of hurting her like that...it takes Harry a moment to extract his clenched hands from the wheel.  If that was really what Y/N was thinking, then he could fix it.  All it would take to set her at ease would be a quick request, a repeated statement, and the girl’s breathing would even out, and everything could continue like he had planned.

“Y/N?” He begins, keeping his voice as smooth as silk as he sets the car into park and turns it off. “Look at me, please.”

And then she does.  And Harry forgets his plan within a moment.

There’s nervousness apparent in her eyes, yes, but no fear.  Although her lips are chewed red, they don’t tremble when she answers him with a quiet “yes?” Despite their close proximity, she keeps leaning closer to him, and whether she’s aware of the action or not, the constant inch of her hand closer to Harry’s softens the immortal more than he thought possible.  He can’t compel her to let down her guard when she already trusts him.

“I know that this is different for us.  Doing something like this.” Harry begins, keeping his eyes as sincere as possible without compelling the young woman in front of him, who is keeping her eyes on his emerald irises with steadfast attention. “But I want this to be a proper date, like...like what I should’ve probably taken you on a month ago.”

Warmth rises to Y/N’s cheeks at the confession. “So do I.  I like being around you, Harry.  A lot.  I’m just a little...nervous, I guess.”

Harry bites back a smile at how she sounds like she’s confessing something, as if her body language hasn’t been telling him that from the moment she got into his car. “I know.  So I think it would be best, just to prove that this is a real date, if we don’t have sex after we finish brunch.”

A choked sound falls from Y/N’s mouth, and Harry delights in watching her scramble for words before she manages to form a half indignant reply. “I didn’t say I was going to sleep with you!”

“You don’t have to say it, pet, because we both know you can’t keep your hands off me.  Exhibit A,” Harry nods at her hand, which is mere millimeters away from his thigh. “Being how you kept trying to grab onto me through the entire drive.”

Another gasp of indignation fills the car, and the emphasized outrage sets Harry at ease.  He’d rather Y/N be equal parts annoyed and—if the soft look hidden behind her eyes is any clue—endeared than have her equal parts nervous and anxious.  He’d take any anger directed at his expense if it meant she was at ease. 

“I wasn’t trying to grab you.” The mortal mutters under her breath, her eyes falling from his as the increase of her heart pricks Harry’s ears. “That’s just where my hand fell naturally.”

“Right.” Harry answers in a disbelieving voice, his smirk growing as Y/N rolls her eyes in response. “Well, either way…” He extends a jeweled hand and grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying how her breath stutters as he turns her head to look at him. “What do you say?  No sex after our date?  Think we can behave ourselves?”

“I can.” Y/N answers, irritation laced through her voice to hide the desire settling between her words. “You, on the other hand...I doubt you’ll be able to keep it in your pants.”

A wry smile works it’s way over Harry’s lips, and the vampire wets them with his tongue as he uses his gentle grip on Y/N’s jaw to tilt her head forward. “I have wonderful self-control, darling.” He breathes the words, letting the scent of mint roll over Y/N’s face, and delights in the way it intoxicates her with every syllable.  Harry ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw, smudging his kisses down her neck until he can feel her pulse thumping unevenly beneath his lips.  His mouth opens just slightly as he leaves a lingering kiss on the area, his tongue gliding carefully over her sweet-scented skin. 

Despite every instinct in his body telling him to sink his teeth into the beating pulse he feels and quench the thirst that burns in the back of his throat like a roaring fire, Harry manages to pull away. “See?” He murmurs softly, his cool breath still clouding Y/N’s every inhale. “Self control.”

While Harry is a master at withholding his desires, the effect his actions have on Y/N is apparent in her reply. “Good.” The mortal swallows thickly, her pulse fluttering again as Harry releases her chin and drags his fingers down her neck. “That’s good to know.  So no sex, then.”

“Right.” Harry grins triumphantly as Y/N attempts to collect herself.  The smug expression on Harry’s face lets her know that he’s completely aware of the impact he has on her, and it drives her insane to no end.  Although her conscience is urging her to play his game, and do her best to fluster him as he flusters her, the more rational part of her stops that thought in its tracks.  This is what she wanted, wasn’t it?  To open herself up again, to open herself up to Harry in a way she hasn’t before?  To prove that she can let someone know her without burrowing themselves between her thighs?

The latch of her car door brings her from her thoughts, and her head jerks to the right to see Harry with one hand on the door handle as he extends the other to her to help her from the car.  Y/N, still fumbling with her seatbelt, takes a moment to grasp his hand in return, too swept up in the fact that Harry remembers to open her door to ponder how he always reaches her side of the car so quickly. 

However, there are some new developments that don’t slip from her attention, like how Harry keeps her hand grasped firmly in his icy grip even after she’s out of the car, pausing only to click the lock on his keyring before walking with her towards the door.  Or how, despite his long legs, he never falls out of step with Y/N, making sure to keep his strides measured and even so as not to yank on her hand.  Or how, even though her hand is already half extended out of habit, Harry reaches the door of the restaurant first, opening it smoothly and stepping back, gently laying his hand on the small of Y/N’s back to guide her inside the restaurant.

“Uh, thanks.” The young woman murmurs to him, a tone of perplexity running beneath her words.  She’s not quite sure why all of this surprises her; hadn’t Harry already proved that, despite his harsh and suggestive exterior, there’s an undercurrent of manners instilled into him?  

Maybe, she thinks as she watches Harry step forward to the restaurant host, the surprise and confusion is due to the lack of manners she received from her ex.  Despite the “small town charm,” as her mother had called it, Bradley had lacked the ability to successfully perform any gallantry, and any attempts he made to do so had only annoyed Y/N.  Whenever he tried to do something that may fall into that category, like insisting on driving everywhere they went, or choosing where they’d go for dinner, Y/N never felt that the actions came from a place of protection or chivalry; on the contrary, Y/N felt like each action was taken on the basis that she herself was incapable of doing the same things Bradley did.  On the one occasion she’d brought it up to him, he had scoffed, and argued that he was just trying to be a nice guy, and why would she have a problem with him trying to help her, and if she was going to complain, then he wouldn’t—

An icy touch to the dip of her back jerks Y/N from her thoughts, both metaphorically and literally as her body spasms away from the touch.  Upon hearing the alarmed gasp that falls from her lips, Harry turns his head to the side, a look of concern painted over his face.

“Everything alright, darling?” He asks in a quiet voice, his hand retracting from her back with uncertainty. 

“Yeah, sorry, just—caught up in thought, I guess.” Y/N covers quickly, giving him an apologetic smile. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

If the way the mortal shivers is any suggestion, Harry can guess what exactly about his touch took her by surprise. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, his fingers hovering a few millimeters above the fabric of her dress. “The, uh, the table I reserved is just on the patio around the corner.” Although he lays his hand on Y/N once again to guide her, Harry is careful to place his palm further up her spine, where the sensitive skin of her back is covered by her jean jacket in addition to the thin yellow sundress.  As much as he usually adores making her shiver, there’s something different about the action when he knows it’s because of his inhumanly cold touch, instead of his inhuman ability to pleasure her. 

The pair move in a line, following the hostess in a beeline through the busy restaurant and out onto the sunlit patio, where there are fewer occupied tables.  Stopping in front of a table partly shaded under an umbrella that’s away from the other diners, the hostess turns to the two of them, her eyes flickering over Harry once again.

���Is this table to your liking, Mr. Styles?” She asks, her voice sweet as sugar.  The stickiness of it grates against Y/N’s skin, but Harry gives no indication of finding it irritating.  In fact, he seems to give hardly any notice to the hostess at all, only half glancing at her before nodding his head. 

“Yes, it is, thank you.” He steps out to the side, grasping the back of the chair facing away from the sun and pulling it out.  It takes Y/N a moment and a half step already taken towards the opposite chair for her to realize that he’s pulling it out for her.

“Oh—” Face flushing with realization, Y/N steps back around Harry, settling down into the offered seat as he carefully pushes it in. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Harry replies, pausing to be sure she’s comfortable before taking his own seat across from her.  The hostess, who had been watching his actions with a keen eye, gives another smile to the vampire.

“Alright, Paige will be your server today, but before I leave,” The hostess spares a short glimpse at Y/N before turning her full attention back to Harry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The creature is aware of the effect he has on mortals, and has been since he was first turned.  While he normally plays that to his advantage (and while that was, to be frank, part of the reason he was able to take Y/N home from the club the night he met her), the attention is beginning to grind against his nerves.  It’s easy enough for him to ignore a human, especially one he has no interest in whatsoever, but he can see the way Y/N notices the hostess’ preference for addressing Harry.  More specifically, Harry can see the way it bothers her, and it would be amusing if his jealousy over Y/N going on a date with someone else hadn’t been the catalyst to their date today.

“No, that’s alright.” Harry finally responds to the waitress, glancing at her just enough so as not to be rude. “Thank you.”

The hostess smiles at him again before nodding to Y/N and turning on her heel, marching back towards the kitchen, and it takes just a soft snort falling from Y/N’s lips to pull Harry’s attention completely back to her.

“What?” He quirks an eyebrow up at the noise, reaching for the menu in front of him and flipping it open slowly. “Something funny?”

Y/N gives a small shake of her head as she mimics Harry’s action, casting her eyes downwards towards the now revealed menu. “No, not at all.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” The vampire reaches across the table to touch his date’s hand, flipping her arm carefully so he can lay two ringed fingers against the thin skin of her wrist, the fragile hummingbird flutter of her heart thumping beneath it. “And I’m too excellent at reading people to let it go.”

“Too stubborn, you mean?” Y/N corrects him as she raises her own brow, but much to Harry’s delight, she doesn’t pull back from his icy touch as she did earlier. 

Harry shrugs lightly, an unconcerned air tinting his attitude. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.  Either way, I’d like to know why you’re laughing at me.”

The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek, the action of her weighing her next words clearly written all over her face. “You seriously can’t tell me you don’t notice it.”

Cocking his head to the side, Harry gently yet consistently continues to stroke two fingers over Y/N’s velvety skin, the heat of her veins burning beneath his touch. “Notice what?”

Although she opens her mouth, Y/N’s reply is cut off by the clicking of high heels approaching their secluded corner, and it’s only a moment before a waitress (whom she assumes is Paige) is standing in front of their table.  Like her coworker before her, Paige gives a brief hello to Y/N before turning all of her attention to Harry, smiling brightly at him as she gives her opening spiel.

“Hi!  My name is Paige, and I’ll be your server today.  Can I get some drinks started for you?” She asks, her hands clasped tightly in front of her (Y/N always hates when servers don’t write down orders; she knows it looks impressive, but the attention it takes to remember exact specifications gives her secondhand anxiety) as she addresses Harry.  

The order is right at the tip of Harry’s tongue. “We’ll have two mimosas, please.  And two ice waters, as well.” He replies, smiling briefly at her as his fingers continue to glide over Y/N’s wrist.  The girl catches the way Paige’s eyes flicker to the movement, her (just barely) professional smile shifting for a fraction of a second before fixing itself, and while Y/N knows that it’s irrational, a small part of her can’t help but be pleased.

“Sounds good.  I’ll be right back with those.” She chimes giddily, her heels clicking against the ground once more as she walks away.

The moment she’s left, Harry has his full attention turned back to Y/N. “You didn’t answer my question.” He murmurs, his emerald eyes alight with curiosity. “Notice what?”

An exasperated sigh sounds from Y/N as she makes a face. “The way they stare at you.” She answers, jerking her head over her shoulder towards the restaurant door. “The hostess, the server—they were both practically undressing you with their eyes.  Are you telling me you didn’t notice that?”

Harry’s curious expression drops as he begins to shift in his seat, the stroking of his fingers over her wrist pausing for just one moment.  Ah, Y/N thinks.  Here it is.  A confession that, yes, Harry did notice it, and Harry (and his ego) loved the attention, and he—

“I noticed it, yeah.” He begins, a reluctant look painting itself onto his statuesque features as a finger on his free hand rubs over his lion head ring.

A glum feeling of satisfaction settles into Y/N’s stomach, and she pulls her hand back a few inches, completely removing it from Harry’s grasp. “I thought so—”

“But I didn’t see the point in mentioning it.” Harry continues, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m here with you.  Why would a spare look from a hostess or a server be anything but inconsequential to me?”

Huh.

“I…” For once, Y/N is stunned into silence. “Well, I just thought—”

“Y/N.” Her name sounds like a melody when it falls from Harry’s mouth, and the sincerity layered in his voice makes her snap her eyes to his. “Do you truly think I would flirt with a waitress on a date I asked you on?  Does that sound like me?”

“Well, honestly…” Harry’s stare bores into hers, prickling Y/N’s skin with the new and nearly uncomfortable sensation of being seen. “I don’t want to think so, but considering how we met…”

“Ah.” Harry’s lips turn down into a small grimace, but quickly right themselves as he once again grasps her hand in his two large palms. “I won’t pretend that I’m not a bit of a—”

“Whore?”

Harry’s lip twitches in amusement again at the blatant tone of the girl’s voice. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about you slut-shaming me?”

The flush that overtakes Y/N’s face indicates that she remembers. “Yes, we did.  But I seem to recall you agreeing.  After you teased me for it, of course.”

“Of course.  We both know how much you love teasing.” Harry digs his nails ever so slightly into her wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull a small gasp from her mouth as his grip begins to mimic the handcuffs that she had begged him to use on her. “But all that aside...I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what they think of me.  I’m here with you.  Despite most of my flaws, my mother raised me right.  I wouldn’t do that to you.”

The thunderous thumping of Y/N’s heart rings through Harry’s ears, a constant reminder of why he’s here.  Beneath her soft skin, beneath every telltale mark and scar, beneath her glittering eyes and silky lips, there’s the thing that keeps Harry alive.  Rushing through this girl’s arteries is the sustenance that Harry needs to survive, the sweetest liquid he’s ever consumed, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it at his beck and call.  If being the gentleman of Y/N’s dreams is what will keep her available for him, then that’s what he’ll do.  The pounding of her heart is the beat that keeps him in time with the tune of his life.  It’s nothing more and nothing less. 

Still, Harry chooses his next words attentively, to bring back a joking manner to the conversation. “Someone must have done a number on you, huh?  Was everything not so charming in Smalltown, USA?  Did your parents split when you were a kid?”

And although Harry asks the questions with a smirk on his face, laughter in his voice, and mirth in his eyes, he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest, how her hand tenses beneath his, and how her eyes drop for a fraction of a second.  He’s touched a nerve, one that is obviously frayed and hurting, and the regret that instantly washes over him is tinged with the confusion of how he’s capable of feeling such an emotion so intensely. 

“Um—” While Y/N knew that she had to tell Harry about her disastrous dating history sooner or later, she had really hoped it would be later rather than sooner.  Is a discussion about one’s scumbag ex appropriate first date talk?  Can she bring it up now, or should she wait until they’ve finished their appetizers? 

“Alright, so I have two mimosas and two waters for you…” Paige’s return distracts Y/N from her dilemma for just a moment as the server sets down the four glasses in front of the respective recipients.  With her attention turned back to Harry, she takes a step back from the table. “Are you ready to order?”

Y/N’s eyes snap to the open menu in front of her, which had become the least of her concerns over the last few minutes. “Oh, I haven’t—”

“We’ll get two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, please.” Harry closes his menu before reaching for Y/N’s and repeating the motion, handing them back to Paige with a charming yet neutral smile. “And a side of hashbrowns, please, to share.”

Brow furrowing as the server scurries away without giving her a second glance, Y/N gapes at Harry, her voice wrought with confusion. “Why did you order for me?”

Harry raises his mimosa to his lips and takes a long sip, setting the condensation-covered glass back down on the table before replying. “You didn’t know what you wanted, and the crepes are delicious.  Did you want something else?” With a lick of his red lips, he glances over his shoulder. “I can call her back if—”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Y/N wraps her hand around the alcoholic drink, swirling her finger over the cold glass. “I can order for myself.  I’m a grown woman.  Do you think I’m not capable or something?”

Harry cocks his head to the side, appraising how the mortal’s expression is closing off with every passing moment.  This bothers her, he realizes.  The idea of him not thinking she’s capable of something bothers her, enough that she’s clenching her glass, and her normally clear eyes are swirling with anger more and more with every passing moment.

“I know you’re capable, Y/N.  I just thought that…” Shifting in his seat, Harry clears his throat as he gathers his words in his mind.  Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking the questions? “It’s supposed to be polite.”

“In what century?” She replies, her mouth falling agape in surprise as her eyes widen. “Men used to order for women because women weren’t allowed to, right?  Because men made the decisions?  Holding open a door is one thing, but choosing for me—”

“Okay, maybe choosing for you was impolite.  I thought you were unsure on what to order, but I should’ve asked first.  I’m sorry.” Harry half mumbles the apology as an uncomfortable feeling of shame begins to buzz in his stomach. “But the ordering thing, that— men did that as a sign of respect, so women wouldn’t have to talk to someone they didn’t know.  I really didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.  My mum just taught me that it was polite, so I...it’s a habit.  I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again.”

He watches as Y/N chews her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating the authenticness of his apology.  Everything he had said was true, of course.  His mother did teach him that it was polite to order something for a date so she wouldn’t have to speak to someone she doesn’t know.  Of course, it was also true that the practice had died out a century ago, and most women now preferred to speak for themselves.  Harry can’t begrudge Y/N if she dislikes what he did; she’s proved time and time again that she can be rather independent.  However, Harry’s surprised at the disappointment he feels about her reaction.  If this is going to be a proper date, he’d like to hold it up to his standards of proper.

“Alright.” The mortal says after a moment, releasing her lip from her teeth and finally raising her mimosa to her mouth. “You’re forgiven.  But I think I’ve earned the right to compensation for your assumptions.”

“Compensation could be arranged, I suppose.” Harry leans forward with a sly grin, his fingers finding the delicate skin of Y/N’s wrist once more. “I feel like I’ve been fairly firm on the no sex thing, but I could pencil you in for some compensation tomorrow evening, if that works for you.”

Y/N swirls the liquid in her glass as she bites back a smirk. “I was thinking of something a little different than an orgasm, actually.”

“What could possibly be better than an orgasm given by me?” Harry questions, his free hand fingering the cross around his neck. “Didn’t you once compare them to a gift from God?”

“I don’t recall ever saying that, actually.” The mortal girl replies in a dry voice, setting her glass down with a decisive thunk. “I don’t want an orgasm—”

“Oh, that’s a bloody lie—”

“I want information.” Tapping her fingers against the table, Y/N stares Harry down with firm eyes. “Like where did you grow up that your mother taught you it was appropriate to speak for a woman?  Or why have you avoided any personal questions I’ve tried to ask over the last month?”

Harry retracts his hand from Y/N’s wrist as she voices her inquisition, settling his fingers on the rim of his mimosa to begin tracing the smooth glass. “To be fair, pet, you haven’t asked many personal questions.  You’ve been too busy bouncing on my cock, haven’t you?”

“Maybe, but I won’t be today, as per our agreement.” Y/N steeps her fingers together as she leans towards him, the comical sight of her posture forcing Harry to repress a snort. “And you brought up personal questions first, Holmes.  So you kind of screwed yourself, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did.  I’ve gotten so used to you doing the screwing, Watson.  Guess I’m getting sloppy— although you seem to like that.” Harry can’t help but get in one last dig before conceding, taking a long gulp of his beverage before smacking his lips. “I’ll tell you what.” He says, pointing a jeweled finger at his date with his glass still wrapped tightly in his hand. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N quirks up an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Let’s play a little question game.” Harry sets down his glass as he elaborates, his signature smirk growing over his cherry lips. “We alternate questions back and forth, asking whatever we’ve wanted to know.  And the other person has to answer it honestly.”

Or as honestly as possible, Harry amends in his head.  For obvious reasons, he’ll have to fabricate the majority of his answers, but that’s nothing new to him.  Over the years, he’s had to create multiple spiels about his childhood, taking tiny pieces of truths and weaving them together with updated lies.  Spitting out a few standard stories about where he grew up and why he left London is small change compared to his burning desire to know more about Y/N’s past.  

The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek again, weighing her options in her head as she holds Harry’s questioning stare.  As much as she hates to discuss her life story, and as much as she’d been hoping to hide it from Harry, she knows that she has to be honest with him if she wants him to be honest with her.  As awkward as it may be, she’ll have to tell the stories sometime.

“Alright.” She relents after a moment, blowing out a harsh breath and lifting her mimosa to her lips. “But I get to ask the first question.  Ladies first, and all that.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harry flashes a cheeky grin at her, his left eye dropping into a quick wink. “Start your inquisition, Watson.”

Harry’s been in this position millions of times, so he knows the types of questions that are about to tumble from Y/N’s pretty lips.  She’ll start off by asking where he grew up, and where he went to school, and how many siblings he has, before moving to things like why he moved to L.A., and how he made friends, and—

“What else did your mother teach you, besides manners?” Y/N asks suddenly, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop of liquid on her bottom lip as she lowers her glass. “And what was the most important thing?” 

The nature of the question catches Harry so off guard that he doesn’t remember to quell the throb in his chest where his heart used to beat at the mention of his mother, and the old half healed wound flares with pain.  What had his mother taught him?  Harry ponders the question as Y/N’s curious eyes ponder him.  What hadn’t she taught him? 

“My mother taught me…many things.  Many good things.  She was a wonderful woman.” Harry begins honestly, albeit carefully, speaking in a measured voice as his eyes fall to her opal ring that sits upon his pinky. “She taught me how to read as a child, before I began school.  She taught me...she taught me how to cook a bit.  I’m not nearly as good as she was, but I’m passable.  And yes, she did teach me how to behave around women, how to be respectful.  But the most important thing…”

Y/N watches as Harry’s eyes bore into the ring on his finger, as if he’s staring into a crystal ball of the past to search for an answer.  Perhaps, in a way, he is. 

“The most important thing,” Harry repeats again, his eyes finally snapping away from the entrapment of the ring. “Was how to let someone know you appreciate them.  It’s easy, I think, to go about your day without telling someone you care for them.” Stroking his thumb over the band of the ring, Harry thinks back to the countless ways his mother had wordlessly shown Harry and his sister how much she adored them. “Little touches, or little favours, things like that— those go a long way.  They help someone feel less alone.  They can be the difference between a good day and a bad day.  She used to, um,” A lump suddenly develops in his throat, and Harry struggles to swallow it down as he voices a memory he hasn’t spoken aloud in over a century. “She used to comb her fingers through my hair when I was a little boy, whenever I was upset.  I’d come home from—“ Harry cuts himself off before he mentions his father’s blacksmith forge, where he was an apprentice. “—from school, and she would take one look at me and be able to see I was frustrated.  She always sat in this big chair in front of the fireplace, and she’d pat her lap, and I’d sit in front of her knees and lay my head on her leg, and she’d card her fingers through my hair as I told her every bad thing that happened that day.” Unconsciously, Harry raises his own hand to his chestnut curls, raking his fingers through them.  The motion doesn’t bring nearly as much comfort as it once did. “She always listened.  She never made me feel like my problems were silly.  She just listened.  It made me feel better.  Made me feel…” The vampire’s hand drifts from his hair to his lips, rubbing over them pensively. “Loved.”

The mortal girl’s eyes soften as she listens to the memories of the man in front of her, who begins to look younger and younger with every word that falls from his lips.  Although she’s surprised by the candor of his answer, it pleases her; she thought pulling truths from Harry would be like pulling teeth.  One note of his story, however, catches her attention with an ache. 

“You said...you said she was a wonderful woman.” Y/N murmurs, carefully gauging Harry’s reaction to the question. “Is she...not anymore?”

“I’m sure she would be, but she passed away a…a while ago.” Harry’s eyes shift to the ring again, the dainty band with its opal stone standing out from the rest of his chunky jewelry.  Y/N wonders if that’s because it once belonged to someone else. “She got sick, and couldn’t get better.”

With a careful but tender motion, Y/N slides her hand across the table and settles it on top of Harry’s, cupping his larger hand in her smaller grasp. “I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in her voice snags Harry’s attention, and the vampire looks up to find the mortal staring at him with understanding eyes. “I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.  You must miss her very much.”

It takes Harry a moment to clear the lump from his throat enough that he can choke out a response. “I-I do, yeah.  Every day.” He’s not sure if it’s his icy skin or the burn of Y/N’s touch, but he slowly pulls his hand from beneath her grasp, reaching for his glass of ice water instead.  He gulps down half the liquid, setting the cup down with a decisive thunk before pasting a strained smile onto his face. “But that’s enough of my sob story, don’t you think?  It’s my turn to ask a question.”

A small frown works its way over Y/N’s face as Harry pulls away, and she clasps her now empty hands together around the stem of her mimosa glass. “Fine.  What do you want to know?”

“The answer to my previous inquiry.” Harry’s emerald irises sweep over her figure, his tongue poking between his teeth as his simper becomes more genuine. “Someone must’ve really done a number on you if opening a door for you is a shock.  What’s the story there?”

Although she knew that this would be Harry’s first question, Y/N still bides her time by knocking back the rest of her mimosa in one swift gulp, wrinkling her nose at the lingering taste that catches in the back of her throat. “His name was Bradley.” She begins, tapping a fingernail against the delicate glass. “And he—”

“So sorry to cut you off, darling, but,” Harry raises a finger to pause her speech, his rings glinting in the L.A. sun. “Bradley?  You fucked someone named Bradley?”

“It was a small town!  It’s not like I had many options!” Y/N argues hotly, her eyes rolling harder than they ever have before. “Now are you going to be quiet and listen politely, or are you going to keep interrupting me before I can even begin?”

Harry laughs once, shaking his head with an amused air. “Sorry.  Continue.” Despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, Harry raises a hand to the corner of his mouth, pretending to lock it shut with an imaginary key.  He even takes care to slide the invisible key into his shirt pocket, patting it with satisfaction once the deed is done. 

Y/N takes one more moment to glare at him, but Harry’s newfound silence continues, and so she does, as well. “His name was Bradley.  I met him through a mutual friend in our freshman year of high school.  I’d seen him around before, but we’d never talked, really.  And after he asked me to Homecoming, he just kind of…stuck.” The girl shrugs in a way of explanation. “Like, he started coming around more to my house, taking me out to movies.  And it was nice.  The attention, I mean.  There was no one else I was really interested in at school, and Bradley was cute, and he was friendly, and our families really liked each other.  It made sense.”

As she speaks, a crease works its way between Harry’s perfectly sculpted brows.  Most mortal romances, he’s come to find, are rather dull, but this one seems more boring than others, and he can’t stop himself from raising his jeweled hand in the air as if he were in one of the classes Y/N mentioned, waiting for the teacher to call on him for an answer. 

When Y/N notices the hand, an exasperated sigh falls from her mouth, but she leans across the table and retrieves the imaginary key from Harry’s shirt pocket, her warm fingers leaving pinpricks of fire across his chest.  A small smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as those warm fingers touch the lifted spot, mimicking an unlocking motion before she sits back in her seat. “Yes?”

Harry rests a bent elbow on the table, propping his chin up on his fist as he leans forward. “I have a question.” He begins innocently, watching as Y/N narrows her eyes at his sudden polite intrigue.

“Yes?” She repeats again, wariness written into her tone as she evaluated the suspicious air of Harry’s behaviour. 

“I was just wondering how big Bradley’s dick is.” Harry’s grin grows to wicked proportions as Y/N’s mouth falls open in shock. “Because, honestly, he doesn’t seem to have that much going for him, and I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why you dated him, and the only answer I can come up with is—“

“That his dick must be huge?”

“That he’s well endowed, yes.” Harry finishes smugly, tapping a finger against his chin. “I’m curious.  Are we talking about a carrot?  A cucumber?  A zucchini?” Lip twitching again, Harry stifles a laugh as Y/N’s face hardens with exasperation. “A stalk of celery?  I suppose the length could be a selling point, but if there’s not enough girth to fill you—”

“His dick wasn’t the reason I dated him.” Y/N replies flatly, a deadpan stare meeting Harry’s mirth filled eyes. “Although, since you’re curious…it was the size of a cucumber, but not an English cucumber.  More of a garden variety.  Not incredibly girthy, but good for a beginner.”

“A beginner?” Intrigue sparks at the pit of Harry’s belly (along with what he thinks is jealousy, but he’ll wait to dissect that at a later date) as the vampire leans forward more. “This bloke was your first?”

“We were together for years, so—” Y/N cuts herself off with a shake of her head, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger nervously. “No, wait, that’s another question!  You don’t get another question if I didn’t!”

“But you haven’t finished answering my first question—”

“I would if you’d stop interrupting!” Silencing Harry with a stern look, Y/N holds up her left hand, pinching two of her fingers together. “Do I need to pretend to lock your mouth again like I would a seven year old, or can you sit and listen like an adult for five minutes?  What happened to that old fashioned chivalry from earlier?”

Harry lets out a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair with proper posture.  He takes a moment to adjust himself, straightening his back, fixing the fall of his shirt, adjusting his cross, planting his feet on the ground of the patio, and finishing off the show by rolling out his shoulders before squaring them. “Alright, I’m sorry.  I’m ready to listen.  Please continue.”

The young woman inhales deeply, testing Harry’s rapt attention as she takes her time sipping her ice water.  When she sets the glass down and finds that Harry has stayed perfectly still, his irises glued to her, she continues. 

“So Bradley and I got together our freshman year, and stayed together for the rest of high school.  It was comfortable.  His mom liked me, and my parents liked him.  He came to church with us—” Y/N notes that Harry’s eyebrow lifts a quarter of an inch, but only for a moment before dropping back down into its neutral state. “—and he and I went out once or twice a week.  He was…nice.  But he didn’t do the stuff that you do, the…etiquette stuff.” She taps an index finger against the table, thinking back to all the movie and diner dates that have blurred together in her mind. “Well, he’d try, I suppose, but not in the way you do.  Whenever he did something that was supposed to be chivalrous or gallant, it felt like he was doing it because he thought I was incapable.  And when I brought it up, he got mad.” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shy shrug as she smiles apologetically at Harry. “That’s why I didn’t understand you ordering for me.  I know you didn’t mean it in the way he did, I can tell that, but it just kind of…reminded me of him.  It left a bad taste in my mouth; he left a bad taste in my mouth, I guess.”

A beat of silence falls between them, and the intense way that Harry is looking at her is prickling the hair on the back of Y/N’s neck. 

“I get that.” The brunette speaks after a moment, voice low and accent thick. “Being haunted by someone.  Even after they’re gone, even after time passes…something can remind you of them, and it can be enough to bring you to your knees.”

Although Harry’s eyes are locked on hers, Y/N has the distinct feeling that he’s seeing someone else in her place.  Before she can ask what he means, however, he’s blinked himself out of the self-imposed trance. 

“So what was the final straw?” Harry clears his throat quietly as his mind comes back to the present. “Between you and Cucumber Dick?”

A tiny giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth despite her far from humorous answer. “Well—”

The telltale clicking of heels interrupts the unspoken thought, and within a moment, Paige is standing next to their table once again, a tray balanced on her hand with precision as she offers another one of her smiles to Harry. “Here you go—two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, and a side of hash browns.” The server sets the first plate down in front of Harry, but he quickly lifts it again and sets it down carefully in front of Y/N before accepting the second dish.  He repeats the motions with the hash browns, sliding them to the middle of the table and within Y/N’s reach. 

“Thank you.” Harry speaks with a kind tone, but offers no other comment to the girl, who’s allowed her eyes to slide to the dark ink that decorates Harry’s arms. 

“Of course.” Paige stutters, giving no pretense of paying attention to Y/N. “Could I get you anything else?”

Harry glances at Y/N’s empty mimosa glass, raising an eyebrow in question. “Would you like another drink?” He asks her slowly, his voice unsure.  Normally, he’d just order a second one for her without a thought, but now that he knows how she feels about him ordering for her, he’ll have to work on beating back that particular bit of Victorian etiquette. 

“I would, yes.” Y/N replies with a smile as she touches the stem of her empty glass. “Thank you.”

A strained smile flickers over Paige’s lips. “No problem.  I’ll be right back.”

Harry nods in satisfaction as he watches the server retreat. “There.  We have a few more minutes.  Keep talking.”

“Ah ah ah.” Y/N picks up her fork and sticks it into the hash browns, pulling away a crispy bite for herself. “I think I get to ask a question now, especially since you’ve crammed a few different inquiries into your last turn.”

“And here I was, thinking you loved when I crammed things into—”

“Harry.”

A teasing smile breaks across the vampire’s face, more genuine than Harry thought possible. “Fine.” He relents, cutting the corner off his crepes and popping the savory bite into his mouth. “What else would you like to know?”

Where to begin?  Y/N considers his question pensively as she takes a bite of her own crepe, her expression raising in surprise when she finds that she enjoys Harry’s entrée choice.  The smokiness and spice of the chorizo is undercut by the tangy saltiness of the cheese, all wrapped together with a few garnishes in the perfectly cooked crepe.  Savoring the bite as she chews, Y/N begins to run through the list of questions in her head. 

She could ask more about his family, but if the aching sadness that had radiated off of him at the mention of his mother was any hint, any answers Harry could give on that topic may be off tone for a first date.  And while inquiring about what he said before, about being haunted by someone seems promising, it may also be a bit too much.  As much as she dislikes talking about her personal life, she gets the feeling that Harry absolutely abhors it, and while she was surprised about him asking her on a date, she’s been even more surprised to find herself enjoying it.  The last thing she needs is to fuck that all up by interrogating him about an ex. 

With those two possibilities pushed aside, only one burning question is left on the tip of Y/N’s tongue, and she hurriedly swallows her mouthful of crepe before letting it fall. “Alright, I’ve got it.” Cocking her head to the side, Y/N points her fork at the man in an accusatory manner. “Did you ask me out on this date just because you were jealous I was out with Jacob?  Was that the only reason?  Because you saw me with him, and you didn’t like it?”

Harry wraps his ringed hand around his water glass, the metal of his jewelry clinking against the surface as he pulls a face.  Even if he wanted to be honest with Y/N about this, Harry isn’t quite sure what the honest answer would be.

“I’ll admit, I was a little…bothered by it.” Reluctance is threaded through every word that Harry manages to spit out. “Moreso by your taste in men than anything else— Jacob wasn’t exactly up to par.”

“It wasn’t like I chose him myself.” Y/N retorts, pulling a grape from the bunch of side fruit on her plate and popping it into her mouth. “Was that really all that bothered you?  That he wasn’t up to par?”

Tapping his fingers against the wooden table, Harry takes a moment to ponder the question. “No.” He says finally, deciding to continue his honesty streak. “No, that wasn’t all that bothered me.  You’re right, I didn’t like seeing you with him, but it wasn’t because of him.  Not entirely, anyways.  I can’t imagine I would’ve liked seeing you with anyone.”

A light flush works its way over the mortal’s cheeks, and Harry can hear the stuttered thumping of her heart. “Why?” She asks in a half whisper, her teeth worrying her bottom lip unconsciously. “Why is that?”

Harry muses the various answers he could give as Paige brings them refills on their mimosas.  It’s not like he can tell her that he wants to keep her available for snacking whenever he gets a little thirsty.  Well, he could, but then he’d have to wipe her mind, and he’s not particularly inclined to do that at the moment.  And, if he’s being honest with himself…he’s not entirely sure that’s the truth anymore.  Is sheer convenience the reason behind his terrible reaction to Y/N seeing someone else?  Or is that reaction linked to the way he felt when she opened her door to him that morning, and the sight of her all dolled up for him hit him like a truck?

Either way, none of those answers are suitable to confess in the moment, so Harry merely gives a dimpled grin. “That’s another question, darling.  We’re not very good at limiting ourselves, are we?”

“I suppose not, no.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as she takes a sip of her fresh mimosa, her eyes watching Harry over the rim of the glass. “Your turn, then.  What else do you want to know?”

What else would he like to know?  Harry thinks, taking another bite of chorizo as he mulls over the question.  Now that the floodgates have opened, now that he has the opportunity, now that he has the ability to ask, Harry wants to know everything.  He wants to know what makes Y/N tick, what her pet peeves are, and if she prefers mornings or nights.  He wants to know what her favourite school subject was, if she was ever in her school’s plays, or on any of the sports teams.  He wants to know her favourite flavour of ice cream, what TV shows she binge watches when she wants to distract herself, and if she’s really read all those books that line the floor to ceiling shelf in her room.  He wants to know her, he realizes.  She’s more fascinating than he ever thought possible, and her blood is more addicting than he knew.  He wants to know every aspect that molded her into the person sitting before him.  And one of those aspects is—

“Why did things end between you and Bradley?” He finally asks, his voice low and cautious. “Was it mutual, or...?”

Despite the time Harry took to think of his question, Y/N knew exactly what it was going to be, and she has her answer ready to go the moment the words roll from Harry’s pillowy lips. “He was cheating on me.” She admits with a sigh, her eyes glued to her mimosa glass as she swirls the orange liquid within it. “He went away for university, and I stayed home.  I guess he met someone at school.” Allowing her eyes to flick up to Harry for a moment, Y/N finds the man staring at her blankly with a harsh crease between his brows. “I kind of thought it was going to end, honestly.  He began to get more and more distant...we’d talk less over Skype or the phone...but I didn’t think he’d…” She trails off for a moment, thinking back to the day she found out. “Well.  He did.  I found out from his roommate, and the next day, he and I were through.  And almost five years of memories, time together, shared moments...all of that was just gone.”

Although it’s been years since things ended, and Y/N has moved on in tenfold, she can’t help the way her voice aches at the end of her explanation, which acts as proof of how the raw wound had healed in a way that wasn’t quite right.  No matter how much time passes, no matter how many people she’s been with, no matter how little she cares for Bradley now...nothing will change the fact that he hurt her.  Nothing will mend the jagged scar he created.  Sure, it may fade with time, but it’ll never disappear completely.  And as much as Y/N hates that Bradley still has an effect on her after all this time, she can’t change it.  She’s tried.

“That…” Harry’s cool hand wrapping around her own drags her back to the present, and she lifts her eyes to find the man staring at her with the most tender expression she’s ever seen his sculpted face wear. “That’s awful, Y/N.  I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“It’s—it’s fine.  Really.” Y/N half mumbles the words, distracted by the small circles Harry’s thumb is rubbing against the bone of her wrist.

Chestnut curls swaying, Harry adamantly shakes his head, the crease between his brows deepening with each passing moment. “Don’t.  It’s not fine.  You don’t have to make excuses for someone who hurt you.”

“I’m not making an excuse, I just—”

“Did he hurt you?” Harry’s jade irises fixate on her own with determination. “Yes or no?”

Once Y/N locks her eyes with Harry, she can’t look away.  His gaze nears hypnotic the more she looks. “Yes.  He hurt me.”

“Then he doesn’t deserve you making excuses for him.” The vampire squeezes her hand to emphasize his answer.  Although he’s not compelling her to understand him, Harry looks at her with an unfamiliar sincerity that he hopes makes the depth of his words resonate within her. “You may be fine now, or you may not be, but the situation itself wasn’t fine.  Don’t use your healing as an excuse for his behaviour.  You shouldn’t have had to heal yourself in the first place.”

The gravity of his words rings in Y/N’s ears, and the girl gapes at him for a moment, her mouth half open in shock, before the realization of what he’s saying hits her.  The way he’s staring at her…it’s nearly uncomfortable, the way he sees her.  She almost can’t bear it.  How does he know to say exactly what she needs to hear, even if she doesn’t know she needs to hear it?  Since the first night they slept together, when he reassured her that she could relax and let loose, Harry has been honest and reassuring.  And although Y/N has greatly appreciated that trait in the bedroom, when she’s been at her most vulnerable in a physical aspect…her eyes lock with Harry’s once more, finding them still as steadfast as ever.  This may be the most vulnerable she’s been emotionally in a long time.  And the idea of that, for once, doesn’t completely terrify her. 

The questions get more and more personal from there.  Although there’s a few lighthearted inquiries sprinkled in to ease the tension (“What was the name of your first pet?” “It was a cat named Mr. Snuffleupagus.  I named him after the Sesame Street character.  What’s your earliest childhood memory?” “My sister nearly drowning me in a lake.  She thought I would float.”), the majority of questions asked are things that neither person ever thought they would admit to someone else.  

Those questions range from vaguely prying (“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” “Seventeen.  It was with—” “Bradley and his beginner penis, right.” “Alright, smart ass, who did you lose yours to?” “My first girlfriend.”) to diving deep into memories, stories, and opinions that neither have so much as breathed to themselves in the dark of the night, let alone someone else.

Despite the plan having been to leave after brunch, the pair find themselves engrossed in their conversation, drinking mimosa after mimosa as the late morning bleeds into early afternoon, and they continue to discover each other. 

As Y/N takes a sip of her fourth beverage, Harry regards her with curious eyes, which are focused on picking apart every moment of her body to dissect and devour in his head when he’s alone that night. “So you said pretty much everyone from your hometown marries their high school sweetheart.” He asks slowly, rubbing a jeweled finger over his ice-swollen lips. “But you didn’t, obviously.”

“No, I did not.” Y/N says in agreement, a tipsy snort sounding from the back of her throat as she raises her fluted glass in a toast. “Thank fuck, honestly.  Could you imagine me as a wife right now?  And a mother?  With children?”

Finger tapping against his lip, a cheeky grin tugs at the very corner of his mouth. “No, I couldn’t, frankly.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he answers. “But what I’d like to know is…do you believe in it?  Marriage, I mean?  Because you said your parents had rough patches, and you thought they mostly stayed together just to stay together, and you and Gherkin Pickle didn’t last—”

“I’m sorry, Gherkin Pickle—?”

“So what I want to know is…” With his thumb and knuckle still grazing his chin, Harry points his finger at the girl across the table. “Marriage.  Do you think there’s value in it?  Do you think someone can be monogamous for their entire life?  Do you want to get married someday?”

The alcohol is beginning to soak into Y/N’s brain, making her bolder with every thump of her heart in her chest.  She leans across the table to ghost her fingers over Harry’s knuckles, continuing to glide them over his cool skin until she reaches his statement rings. “Why?” She asks, a smirk twinkling its way onto her face. “Are you asking?”

“Not quite yet, no.” Harry can feel the alcohol beginning to buzz through his stagnant veins, and he’ll later blame his flirtatious response on the pleasant feeling. “Although you in that dress has me half considering it.”

“Only half considering it?” Y/N clicks her tongue in feigned disappointment, swirling the tip of her index finger over the opal ring that sits upon Harry’s pinkie. “That’s a bit disheartening.  I’ll have to up my game, huh?”

The sight of Y/N’s lithe finger tracing his mother’s ring sends a shock through Harry’s buzzing body.  He can’t quite tell if it’s the witty banter that she matches perfectly and with ease, the lighthearted smile that lifts her soft lips, the gentle pulse he can feel reverberating through her fingertip, or the cleavage that’s just barely slipping out of her dress as she leans over, but Harry can’t tear his eyes away from the mortal girl, not for one second.  He doesn’t want to miss a single moment of her like this.  How it’s all for him. 

“You know, I’m starting to regret my earlier proposal.” He murmurs quietly, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he watches the mortal take a long sip of her mimosa. “How much begging would it take to convince you to follow me to the bathroom right now for a little fun?”

Despite the warmth pooling between her thighs at the offer, Y/N shakes her head. “Too much begging.” She replies, setting her glass back down on the table with a soft clink.  She can already tell there’s a good chance that she’ll go back on the agreement they made, but she wants to make him sweat first.  As much as it tortures her, she knows it tortures him more.  And he’s certainly done his fair share of torturing.  Now it’s her turn. “But speaking of proposals…”

To his credit, Harry doesn’t push the subject of bathroom quickies again. “Right.” He pauses with his glass half raised to his lips. “Marriage.  Thoughts?”

Harry’s attention is rapt as his eyes drift to the mortal’s lips, which pucker slightly as her lightly inebriated mind thinks through the question.  Not for the first time, he wishes he had the ability to take a look inside her head and see how her thoughts form before she voices them. 

“I think…” She fixes her fork against her plate with a clink, her voice light but thoughtful as she forms her response. “I do think there’s value in marriage, but not inherently.  It’s not valuable just because it exists; I think it becomes valuable based on the work you put into it.  My parents, for example…” Her finger begins to circle Harry’s icy knuckle absentmindedly. “My parents didn’t put much work in, so I don’t think their marriage has that much value in comparison to what it could have if they tried.  But if two people put effort in, and strive to be the best partner they can be…I think there’s tremendous value in that.”

Harry responds with a low hum in the back of his throat. “That stands to reason.” He wishes he could take her hand in his own, but the sensation of her warm fingers tracing his skin is too wonderful to pull away. “What about monogamy?  Do you think it’s realistic?”

“I suppose my answer is the same.” Y/N shrugs lightly as her soft skin catches on the corner of Harry’s H ring. “It’s different for everyone, but I do think it can be realistic.  What’s not realistic is the idea that it’s easy.  People change over time, right?  Sometimes someone can change into someone completely different.  You have to expect that, and be flexible with it.”

For the first time since the beginning of their date, an uncomfortably negative feeling buzzes in the pit of Harry’s belly.  Of course Y/N thinks people change—she’s mortal.  But Harry, on the other hand… Harry is forever frozen at twenty-six.  Harry is static.  Harry is stagnant.  However Y/N will change, Harry cannot match it.  Ever. 

That realization helps him identify the uncomfortable feeling as his eyes fall on the girl’s finger tracing his rings.  It’s longing, he discovers, unable to look away from the way her fingernail scratches his immortal skin without so much as leaving a pinkening mark.  Harry will never change again, while Y/N has a whole life of it ahead of her.  Millions of possibilities that lead to millions of more possibilities, always shifting, never staying the same from one moment to the next. 

“As for your last question…” Y/N’s familiar cadence pulls Harry from his thoughts. “I’m not sure.  I wouldn’t completely rule out marriage, but it’s not an active goal of mine.  It all depends on finding someone I think I could grow with and still love at the end of every day.  And despite how simple that sounds,” The short laugh that leaves her mouth is wistful, but hides a tinge of bitterness. “It’s surprisingly hard to find.”

“It is, yeah.” Harry agrees, finishing the remnants of his mimosa with one fell swoop. “Incredibly hard.” His gaze sweeps to Y/N’s glass, which has about one more gulp of liquid left in it.  With the hand not within her grasp, he reaches across the table, picking up the glass and lifting it to her lips. “May I, pet?”

He can hear the way her heartbeat stutters in her chest, and feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she nods slowly.  Harry places the glass between her lips, carefully tilting it back until the drink runs out of the crystal and into her awaiting mouth.  A small droplet streaks from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, and Harry is sure to catch it on his finger after setting the glass down. 

Y/N knows that Harry is doing his best to fluster her, and while it’s working, she knows that she can play the game just as well as he can.  Keeping her eyes on his like a challenge, she grasps the hand touching the corner of her mouth, guiding his finger beyond her lips with a firm grip.  The sweetness of the orange juice and champagne concoction swells across her tongue, but that’s nothing compared to the sweetness of watching Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. 

Pulling his finger from her mouth with a quiet pop, Y/N sets his hand back down on the table, squeezing it once before releasing both of his hands and resting her elbows on the table.  She steeples her fingers together, setting her chin on the makeshift rest as she regards Harry’s darkening eyes. 

“Thanks.” She murmurs, tilting her head to the side lazily as Harry shifts in his chair. “Didn’t realize I missed a drop.  That was a sharp catch, Holmes.”

Harry can’t help but flex his finger as his gaze drops to the digit, catching how a light sheen of saliva covers his skin.  Heat floods between his thighs, making him regret his choice of fashionable linen pants over standard jeans.  “Thank you, Watson.” He matches her banter, albeit with a slightly strained voice. “Shall we order another drink, now that we’ve both finished?”

The question hangs in the air between them like an invitation, open ended and carefully calculated.  Y/N leans forward again, unlocking one of her hands to run a finger over the dark ink staining Harry’s exposed forearm. “I think we should grab the check, actually.” She wets her lips with a swipe of her tongue as she feels Harry’s muscle tense under her touch. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.  Have you?”

All the moisture in Harry’s mouth disappears, his throat burning as the mortal girl’s scent envelops him with every move.  His eyes flicker to her neck, where the thumping of her heart is practically visible underneath her fragile skin.  With his inhuman eyes, he can just make out the ghost of a bruise he sucked into her neck a few nights before.  

Has he had enough to drink?  No.  He’ll never get enough.  But that’s not what Y/N means by the innocuous question. 

“I’ve had my fill, yeah.” Jerking his head in agreement, Harry motions towards the window, where he knows Paige has been analyzing every move between them.  Her displeasure at the close interactions between Harry and Y/N is nearly palpable as she makes her way back to their table, and Harry wonders if Y/N can also sense it, as she seems to be more perceptive than the average human.  When he turns his attention back to her, however, his brow creases in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching as Y/N shifts through her woven bag and extracts her wallet. 

“Grabbing my wallet?” Her expression is just as confused as his own when she replies. “To pay?”

“To—?  No.  Put that away.” Harry says sternly, using the same dominant tone he adopts in the bedroom (only half on purpose). “This is a date.  I’m paying.”

“This isn’t the 18th century, H.  We can split the bill.” Y/N begins to roll her eyes as she opens her wallet, reaching for the debit card stamped neatly with her name.

“I’m well aware it’s not the 18th century, love.” Lip twitching from the wry irony, Harry gently places his hand on her own and closes her wallet. “But it’s a date— our first one, at that— and I’d like to pay for you.  It’s just manners.” 

Although he can feel the grip on her wallet loosening, there’s still a degree of hesitancy apparent in Y/N’s eyes. “Harry—”

“And I don’t mean that in a chauvinistic way, and I don’t mean to imply that you’re incapable of paying.” He swipes his thumb over her knuckle once, letting his physical touch reinforce his words. “I asked you out, yeah?  So I think it’s only fair that I pay.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s pillowy lips as she worries them between her teeth, her resolve getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment.  It only takes three more beats of her heart for her to give a small nod, and Harry, satisfied that she’s agreed, reaches for his wallet to pay the bill.

Despite the temptation to short change Paige on the tip for her disregard for his date, Harry still leaves a sizable tip, saying goodbye to the server with a polite— and only polite— smile.  Once she has her back turned, however, Harry flashes his most genuine grin at Y/N as he scoots his chair away from the table to stand.

Y/N’s hands grip the sides of her chair to match Harry’s motion, but she freezes once she sees the man step towards her.  Within a moment, his jeweled hands are wrapped around the back of her chair, carefully pulling it out before offering her a hand to help her stand.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Y/N asks, nodding to their clasped hands as she pulls her bag over her shoulder. “Pulling out chairs, opening doors—”

Placing his hand on the small of her back once again, Harry scoffs. “It’s always been a thing,” He argues, guiding her to the patio door and through the restaurant. “You’ve just been dating pricks, apparently.”

Despite his answer, however, even Harry can’t deny that the urge to resurrect his Victorian etiquette is as strange as it is sudden.  And, truth be told, there is something deeply pleasing in the light flush of blood he can hear work its way over Y/N’s cheeks when he opens the door of the restaurant for her, opens the car door, takes her hand to help her in, and shuts the door carefully before making his way to the driver’s side.  

It’s easy to spend the short drive back to her building with his hand entwined with hers, their fingers woven together as Harry’s thumb moves over her knuckles.  Y/N’s skin, like usual, is so warm, almost as if she’s made from sunshine herself.  At this point, Harry wouldn’t be surprised to learn that; her blood could certainly pass for being made from stardust. 

It’s all too soon that Harry is pulling into a parking spot in front of Y/N’s building and turning the key in the ignition, his favourite car smoothly powering down in one fell swoop.  Once the sound of the engine dies down, his eyes refocus on the girl next to him. 

Y/N, in comparison, is just as focused on Harry as Harry is on her.  She knows that it’s time to let go of his hand, time to climb out of the car, time to return to her apartment alone.  Time to fall out of the fantasy that has been this afternoon.  Despite knowing all of this, however, she stays glued to the seat, her eyes locked with Harry’s emerald irises in a soft battle. 

Harry is well aware of the predicament he’s found himself in.  While he was the one to establish the no sex rule in an attempt to keep Y/N comfortable, it’s becoming harder and harder to stick to it with every passing moment.  If he was smart, he’d bid the girl goodbye here, allow her to walk herself into her building, thereby erasing any possibility of him charming her into allowing him inside her apartment.  Then, once he was safely back home, he could draw himself a hot bath, scent it with lavender epsom salts, close his eyes to picture the way Y/N looks with laughter in her eyes, the sun spilling across her cheeks, her dress’ neckline falling dangerously low, and tug himself to a tension-relieving climax. 

However, Harry has never been known for his intelligence. Not as much as he’s been known for his recklessness.

Before he can second guess his most likely terrible decisions, Harry is out of the car and opening Y/N’s door.  He’s helping her out.  He’s guiding her into her building, and climbing up the stairs of her fifth floor walk up with her hand locked in his.  And now he’s standing in front of her apartment door, with Y/N shyly looking at him as she bites her fucking lip, completely unaware of the rampage raging inside the vampire before her. 

And the most infuriating, frustrating thing about the entire situation is the way Y/N is looking at him, like she can barely hold his gaze, but can’t force herself to look away.  Harry can feel the waves of need and uncertainty radiating from her, hear the thumping of her heart in her chest.  The last time she looked at him like this, like she’s unsure of where they stand, was the first night they met.  Harry remembers how she fumbled with her keys, nervously invited him in, and then let him use her in a way that literally drove him to his most primal state.  He remembers the euphoria of sinking his teeth into her neck, tasting her ridiculously sweet blood for the first time as his orgasm rolled over him, wave after wave of intense pleasure blurring together as his eyes burned crimson, the lewd sounds of their bodies moving together, the desperate whines that echoed from her throat...

“Thank you for lunch.” Y/N’s sweet voice interrupts his walk down memory lane, and with good timing— five more seconds, and Harry would have been pushing her against her front door to rut her dress up and slip inside her. “And the drinks.  I had a really nice time.”

Clearing his throat, Harry pushes the indecent thoughts from his head as best he can.  He can take care of this later, he tells himself.  He just has to be a gentleman for a few more minutes, and then he can go home, and be as depraved as he needs to be. “I did, as well.” The vampire squeezes her hand in preparation of letting go of it. “A really lovely time, actually.  I’d like to do it again.”

The way Y/N’s eyes widen ever so slightly as her breath just barely hitches, both of which would be imperceivable to human senses, makes Harry bite back a laugh. “I would too.” A more reassured smile rolls over her face as she leads his hand to her waist, setting it just over her hip and squeezing his fingers around her love handles. 

Even after everything Harry has done to her, all the ways he’s seen her, felt her, made her feel— even after all that— his hand on her hip over her dress still sends a shiver down her spine. “I don’t want you to go…” She confesses in a quiet voice, rubbing her thumb over his icy knuckles. “It feels strange, not having you come inside…”

“I know.” A sigh escapes Harry’s lips as he leans down, brushing his forehead over hers as he murmurs his response, his voice dangerously low. “But if I come inside, I know what I’ll do.  And I promised that I would behave myself today.”

“I don’t mind breaking promises.” Y/N wisps, closing her eyes as Harry’s breath, tinged with orange from the mimosa and mint from the candy the restaurant gave them with the bill, rolls over her in a delicious wave. 

Nudging his nose against her own, Harry shakes his head with the smallest of motions, his fingertips digging further into Y/N’s love handles. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over hers, barely even brushing before he pulls away again. “One of us needs to have some self control.”

Y/N wedges her free hand between their bodies, resting it over Harry’s chest with her fingers curled along the unbuttoned edge of his shirt. “If you insist.” Her fingernails dig just the slightest bit into Harry’s sturdy chest, savouring the way she feels his body tense beneath her. “If you want to be boring, then that’s fine.”

Harry laughs quietly at the small attempt to tease his ego, and although his instinct tells him to prove her wrong, he just nods his head. “Am I too boring to receive a goodbye kiss?” He brushes a loose hair back from her forehead before cradling her warm cheek, guiding his thumb over her cheekbone in a repeated action. “Haven’t kissed you in hours.  Feels wrong.”

Butterflies burst into flight in Y/N’s stomach at the innocent request coupled with the sweet explanation.  They’ve done everything in the wrong order, she thinks, as she allows Harry to smudge small pecks along her chin and cheeks.  The very first night they met, she allowed him to use her in any way he wanted, and he allowed her the same luxury.  They’ve spent the last month exploring each other’s bodies, getting to know every nook and cranny, every preference.  They’ve grown accustomed to how the other moves in their sleep, how they wake up in the morning, if they shower at sunrise or sunset.  And now, after all that, they’ve finally had what has probably been the best first date in the history of first dates, and this man, who has already coaxed countless orgasms from her shivering body, who has learned all of her likes and dislikes, is asking for a goodbye kiss like a nervous teenager walking his crush home from biology class.

How could she refuse him?

The answer is simple: she can’t.  In fact, she’s not sure she could refuse Harry anything he asked of her.  And maybe that would be worrisome— it probably should be worrisome— if the idea of giving Harry whatever he wanted didn’t bring a wave of warmth to Y/N’s belly that travels from her center to the very tips of her fingers.

“No,” She wraps the loose fabric of his shirt around her fingers, clutching him as close as she possibly can. “You’re not too boring, H.  You’re never boring.” Y/N sucks in a breath as she feels Harry’s teeth graze over her jaw, marking her ever so slightly as her lover makes his way back to her lips fervently. 

He smudges a kiss at the corner of her lips, pulling a strained whimper from her as she waits for him to kiss her properly. 

“Ask me.” He whispers, grazing his fingers over her cheekbone again and again. “Ask me to kiss you.  I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

The request is so innocent compared to everything else Harry has ever asked her to do, and his voice lacks the dominant command it usually carries over her, but Y/N feels just as weak as she would if he ordered her to get on her knees. “Harry…” Her voice floats through the miniscule space between them, so quiet that it’s barely audible over their laboured breathing, but Harry still thinks it sounds like a song. “Please kiss me.  Kiss me goodbye.”

A groan reverberates in the back of Harry’s throat, and the tiny molecule of composure that he has left in him slips away as he glides his lips over her own silky pair, his fingers threading into her hair on instinct.  Although he does his best to restrain himself, it becomes more difficult with every passing moment, and becomes damn near impossible when he hears the way Y/N whines at the sensation of their lips brushing together with more and more force.

Despite his best efforts, Harry soon finds his hands moving of their own accord as his palm travels from Y/N’s hip towards her ass, ruffling her dress as he grips her and thrusts a leg between her own.  He backs the mortal up into her door, her back hitting the wood with a delicate thud, and the groan she releases worries him for a split second before he feels her grind against his thigh situated between her legs.

Harry knows that the pretense of this just being a goodbye kiss went out the window the moment he touched her, and although she’s responding in kind, he has to live up to his word.  He has to.  He swore that he wouldn’t fuck her today, and as much as he wants to, as much as it seems that she wants to— and if the red hot heat burning his thigh is any hint, she very much wants to— he has to regain some self control.  Despite all his shortcomings, or how his thirst for her blood outweighs any other desire he has for her, he has to remain a gentleman.  Even if it means peeling himself away from the beautiful girl who is scratching at his chest, moaning into his mouth, grinding against his thigh, and speaking between ragged gasps—

“Fuck the promise.” She groans into his ear, her teeth grazing over his lobe with more pressure than Harry thought her capable. “Please, H.  I know what we said, but I need you.” 

Harry curses under his breath at the sensation, his eyes rolling back into his head for a split second, and he knows that if he doesn’t distance himself, he’ll succumb to her begging. “I can’t, darling.  I can’t.” He chokes out the words between pants, bumping his forehead against Y/N’s as he struggles to catch a breath that he’s forgotten he doesn’t need.  It’s funny, he manages to think, how he teased Y/N for not keeping her hands off him earlier, when he’s the one who can’t bear to be away from her touch now. “I want to— Christ, I want to— but I’m trying to behave.”

“Behaving is stupid.” Y/N mutters, smudging her lips across Harry’s stubbled jaw and down his neck, leaving small marks in her wake. “What happened to giving into desires?”

Good fucking question.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly, a choked laugh escaping his heaving chest. “That was when we were just fucking.  Now we’re…”

Y/N regards the man with hooded eyes, a flutter of hope shining through the desire that’s settled in her chest.  What exactly are they?  They’re not dating, she knows that for certain.  But they’re not exactly just fuck buddies anymore. “We’re what?” She prompts after Harry trails off. 

“We’re…” Harry struggles to form a coherent thought, too entranced by the feeling of Y/N in his arms to think straight.  Sucking in a deep breath, the fragrant scent of the girl’s arousal burning his throat, Harry forces himself to take the smallest step back from her, although his hands stay locked around her hip and her cheek. “We’re saying goodbye.”

A defeated sigh falls from Y/N’s swollen lips, but she nods gently at the man before her, brushing her thumb over his exposed collar bones with great care. “Alright.” She mumbles, disappointment laced through her voice. “Goodbye.”

The glum tone brings a small smile to Harry’s cherry lips. “It’s just for a little while, love.  Not forever.” Harry teases her as he swipes his thumb over her flushed cheek. “Couldn’t stay away from you that long.” 

The breathless flush turns into a pleased warmth as Y/N struggles to hide the smile threatening to break across her expression.  Taking the change in mood as a hint, Harry ducks his head, pressing his lips against hers with an earnest softness for just a moment before stepping back and releasing the mortal girl from his grasp.

“Goodbye.” He murmurs again, his belly aching at the thought of leaving Y/N alone for the rest of the day.  It really does feel unnatural, he’s surprised to find.  Has he really gotten that used to being around her?

It’s a strange process, leaving Harry at the door.  After she finally says goodbye again, shuts the door, locks it tightly, and slips on the chain, Y/N finds herself touching the wood, her palm pressed flat against the surface as if she can feel Harry on the other side.  It takes her a moment to walk away from it, the buzz of the mimosas and their first date streaming through her veins.

Checking her phone for the first time, Y/N is surprised to find that it’s nearly 4pm— had they really been in the restaurant for almost five hours?  No wonder the server had been giving her a dirty look; they’d spent so long just talking and sipping drinks, ordering no other food, and not giving up their table.  She’d probably be glaring too.

Admittedly, there is a slight rumble in Y/N’s stomach, as they ate over four hours ago, but she ignores it as she takes a seat on the couch to untie her pink vans, tossing them into the corner before slipping off her jean jacket.  She tosses that over the couch too, running her hands through her mussed hair.  She’s not quite sure what she’ll do with the rest of her day now that she’s alone.  She could indulge some reading, or answer some messages from relatives, or maybe even—

A pounding on the door disrupts her thoughts, jerking her eyes from the book on her coffee table to her front door.  With her brow furrowed in confusion, Y/N rises from the couch and walks to the door, gliding the chain free and turning the lock before swinging the door open.

Braced in the doorway with shining eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a heaving chest as if he’s run all the way back up to her apartment, is Harry.  He takes a moment to compose himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as she takes in her more relaxed appearance.

“I couldn’t go.” He confesses, answering the question on the tip of Y/N’s tongue before she even has the chance to speak it. “I made it down to my car, and then—”

Y/N grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him into her apartment, slamming the door behind them before reaching for Harry again.  His hands are already outstretched to receive her, having grown used to their intimacy routine, and she’s pleased when he automatically rests his palms on her lower back and her neck as she wedges her lips between his once again.

“I don’t want you to go.” Y/N gasps the words against his mouth, barely peeling herself back from him to utter the sentence. “I need you so fucking bad, H, please—”

With great difficulty, Harry attempts to think straight, but it gets harder when Y/N bucks her hips and— well, it gets harder. “I meant what I said, Y/N.  I did, I—I made a promise, and I have to—”

“What do I have to do?” Y/N demands, tangling her fingers in Harry’s chestnut curls and forcing him to look her in the eye. “I fucking need something, Harry, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

Christ.  Harry’s had his suspicions, but now he’s convinced that this girl has some direct line to all his weaknesses, because she knows exactly how to stroke his ego like no one else has before.  She presses every one of his buttons every time.  She’s allowed him to handcuff her, take her in every position, manhandle her, slap her around, and she still begs him for more.  Is there anything that she hasn’t done better than anyone else?

And that’s when it hits him.  The perfect loophole.

Harry is so excited at the possibility of relief that he nearly whimpers, just barely managing to bite back the sound at the last second as he smooths his fingers over his lover’s wild hair. “What about when I’m not here, pet?” He goads her softly, a glint shining in the corner of his darkening eyes. “What do you do then?”

“I…” Although confusion is present in Y/N’s voice, she answers him promptly— she’s gotten used to obeying his sexual requests over the course of the month. “I call you.  And you...you tell me what to do, usually.”

“Tell you what?” Harry hungrily prompts her again, tugging on her hair with the lightest of touches.  Like before, he wants to hear her say it. “What do I tell you to do?”

“You tell me how to—how to touch myself.” The mortal girl stammers, shyness creeping into her tone despite having begged for Harry mere moments earlier. “And then I do.”

“You do.  You behave so well for me.” Keeping his voice as smooth and sensual as possible— which isn’t hard for him, if he’s honest— Harry twirls a lock of Y/N’s hair around his finger, wrapping it around the length as his fingertip brushes over her lip. “I tell you what to do, and you do it.  And you moan for me, and send me the prettiest pictures.” He presses harder against her lip, dragging her mouth open as a whimper escapes. “And I always think: what would it be like to see that in person?”

Although the effect of the mimosas has faded by now, Y/N’s head is swimming in a cloud of Harry’s cologne and her own lust, and she struggles to understand the double meaning in his words. “What—what do you mean?  You’ve seen me in bed—”

The innocent confusion in her voice tantalizes Harry in the best way. “When I’m touching you.  But that’s not what I want.” He murmurs, grinding his hips back into her own. “I know how to get around my promise.”

He watches as the realization dawns on Y/N’s face, her heart stuttering as warmth floods through her body. “Y-you mean—?  You want to see me…?”

“I want to see you touch yourself.” Harry finishes her thought as his eyes darken, and he licks his lips at the image of Y/N laid out on her bed, legs spread wide, showing off just for him.  Only for him. “Will you let me?”

And there it is.  That wave of warmth and desire spreads through Y/N’s tummy, begging her to say yes to any request that falls from Harry’s mouth.  The urge is so strong that she nearly begins to strip, her fingers edging to the hem of her dress, before she manages to form a clear thought of pause. “Are you sure you want to see me…?” She dances around the word for a second time. “Like, I—I don’t know if it’s very sexy, or—”

“Is that a fucking joke?” Harry laughs incredulously, his thumb swiping over the edge of Y/N’s jaw.  He could leave so many pretty marks… “Of course it’ll be sexy.  Christ, love, it’s fucking you.”

The statement that Harry makes is so sure, so confident, that it nearly sends Y/N reeling.  The human’s eyelids flutter as he begins to pepper kisses along her cheekbones and down her jaw, his tongue swiping over her sensitive skin every few moments. 

“Anything you do is sexy.” He whispers the words against her skin, his voice low and accent thick enough that it seems to fill the entire hallway. “Literally anything… How you lick your lips after taking a drink, how you get in and out of my car so delicately… It’s all so fucking erotic.” Y/N shivers when a breath of cool air hits the damp skin of her neck as Harry laughs lightly. “I’ve got a bloody hard-on nearly every moment of the day.”

Hearing the confession that tumbled from Harry’s cool lips, Y/N thinks, is the verbal equivalent of doing three shots of tequila and chasing with a vodka soda.  The words wash over her as easily as Harry’s cologne does whenever she gets close to him, and her fingers tug on his brunette locks with need. “Really?  Even today?”

“Are you kidding?  Especially today.  Look at what you’re wearing…” His icy fingers skim down her neck before tracing over the cleavage that the neckline of her yellow dress leaves exposed. “Every time you leaned over to take a bite of food, I nearly came in my trousers.”

Despite the desire curling itself around Y/N’s core, she can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “That would’ve been a sight.” She scratches her nails lightly against Harry’s scalp, the motion surprisingly tender for their topic of conversation. “Would’ve had to ask Paige for another napkin.”

“It would’ve been properly humiliating, yeah.” Harry agrees easily, unconcerned with the thought as his lips follow the path led by his fingers. “But it would’ve been worth it.”

While the pair’s position is rather incriminating— Y/N’s hands in Harry’s hair, Harry clutching her as close as possible, his lips travelling over any exposed skin he can find— there’s an air of careful consideration floating around them.  As much as Harry wants to see the girl in his arms pleasure herself, he wants it to be her decision.  Anything less wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying. 

“Y’don’t have to do it just for me, Y/N.” The vampire takes the slightest step back to give her some room to breathe without his close proximity to cloud her judgement. “But if it’s my reaction you’re worried about…” Harry untangles one of her hands from his hair, ghosting it down his body before cautiously laying it over his white linen trousers, where his bulge is growing more prominent by the second. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

A desperate whine nearly escapes Y/N’s mouth, but she manages to bite it back at the last moment.  She wants him.  As nervous as she is to have him watch her touch herself, she’s more turned on than anything.  When she sends Harry explicit texts and photos that are most certainly not safe for work, part of the thrill is the reaction she gets from him.  A dirty photo is only as sexy as the other person’s reception of it.  To see Harry’s reactions in person… it would be a lie to say she’s not into the idea. 

But it would also be a lie to say that she doesn’t want something in return. 

“Alright.  You can watch me.” Y/N relents with a sigh, and she takes a moment to enjoy the triumphant look in Harry’s eyes before tacking on her addendum. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” 

Y/N squeezes her hand over his bulge, making the slightest stroking motion upwards towards his belly as a low groan rolls from Harry’s mouth. “I get to watch you touch yourself, too.”

There’s not even a moment of hesitation. “Done.” Harry seals his lips over hers firmly the moment the word exits his mouth, grinding against her hand as he backs her into the wall.  Her back hits the panel with a quiet thud, but Y/N is too busy twisting her fingers around the button of Harry’s pants to notice. 

“Ah ah ah.” Harry tuts as his jeweled hand grabs her wrist, pulling it away from his hardening cock while making sure not to use too much strength on her fragile joint. “You don’t get to do that, pet.  You’ll only be undressing yourself tonight.  It’s only fair.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about fair.” Y/N huffs her reply, but doesn’t pull her wrist from her lover’s grip. “You’re the one who made the stupid rule in the first place!”

Clicking his tongue, Harry takes another step back from the young woman while keeping his other hand floating over her hip. “And you agreed.” He reminds her as the corner of his lip tugs up. “So I think it’s best you behave, don’t you?”

Although the statement turns her legs to jelly, Y/N doesn’t let it show, and instead steels her resolve as best she can. “I’m behaving.” She mutters, crossing her free hand underneath the arm in Harry’s grip. 

“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Harry swipes his thumb over the delicate bones of her wrist, feeling her pulse stutter beneath his touch.  The vampire swallows the venom that spills into his mouth at the thumping rhythm.  He’ll have time for that later. 

Chest heaving, Y/N wets her dry lips as best she can despite the lack of moisture in her mouth. “So where are we…?” She trails off as she glances down the hallway of her apartment. “The living room is probably best, position wise…one of us can be on the couch, and the other on a chair.”

“That’s true…” Harry nods his head, but a frown settles over his pillowy lips. “But it’s not very comfortable for you.  You usually lie down when you get off, don’t you?” Like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it’s spoken with a tone of efficiency and casual observance, simply to find the best approach for any situation. 

And, like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it sends a shock of warmth into her panties. 

“I-I do, yeah.” Y/N stutters her response, clearing her throat before adding onto the short statement. “I’m usually in bed.”

Harry nods expectantly, like her reply is just a confirmation for him. “We’ll go to your bedroom, then.” He says decisively, his grip on her wrist loosening. “You can lie down, get comfortable.  I’ll stand.”

Leading the mortal to her bedroom, Harry slides open the door, guiding her inside before shutting it with a firm click.  When he turns back around to look at her, she’s looking at him expectantly, her fingers twisting around each other as she stares at him with wide eyes.  She trusts him, he realizes, not for the first time.  She really does trust him. 

Although the anticipation is written clearly across her pretty features, Harry knows she needs a small prompt to begin. “How are you usually dressed when you do this alone?” He asks quietly, his own fingers working over the buttons on his shirt smoothly. “Completely bare?  Fully clothed?  Underwear only?” One of his dimples makes an appearance as he smiles with half his mouth. “Wearing only that sweater of mine that you’ve pretty much stolen?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that sweater’s too warm.” Y/N replies with an eye roll, tugging off the jean jacket covering her smooth shoulders. “I, um…it depends.  If it’s just quick, then usually I’m clothed, but if I’m taking my time, then I’ll just, um, I’ll be in my underwear.  Sometimes just my bra.”

Harry’s fingers finish with his last button, and he leaves his open shirt draped over his tall frame. “We’ll be taking our time, angel.  So just get as comfortable as you usually would.”

Y/N nods her head in a jerking manner, sucking in a deep breath through her parted lips in an attempt to calm the heave that threatens her chest.  The erotic tension in the air could be cut with a knife as she tosses her jacket to the side and works her fingers over the zipper of her dress, which catches for a moment and puts up a struggle as she fights to undo it.  Once she wins the battle, she tugs the yellow dress down her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out of it and tossing it to the side.  Her bra and panties aren’t matching, with the former being a delicate baby pink lace, while the latter are lavender cotton, but she doesn’t let herself focus on that detail.  Instead, her fingers hover for a moment at the waist of her panties, hooking in the elastic before she changes her mind at the last minute and decides to keep them on.  For now, at least. 

Harry watches the entire ritual with starved eyes.  He wants Y/N to start before he does, so she can get into a natural rhythm herself, but he can’t resist palming himself over his trousers like she did a moment ago, despite his icy touch not being nearly as satisfying as hers. 

Y/N, however, has different plans, regarding him with heavy lashes as she takes a step back towards her bed. “Your turn.” She murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed and curling her fingers around her ruffled comforter. 

“All in due time.” Harry assures her with a wry smile, ghosting his fingers along his inked abdomen. “Get comfortable, baby.  Pretend I’m not here.”

“Like that’s possible.” The mortal girl mutters under her breath, unaware that Harry’s supernatural hearing can pick it up as if she were shouting in his ear.  Nevertheless, she does as he says, scooting back on the bed until her shoulders reach her pillows.  She lays back on the soft cushions, shifting around until the padding feels comfortable beneath her back.  She lays there for a moment, her arms folded neatly over her bare stomach as she licks her lips expectantly. “Now?”

“Now…” Harry flicks open the button of his trousers. “Do whatever you like to do.  Whatever feels good.”

It takes Y/N another moment to work up the courage to actually do something.  The trick, she realizes, is closing her eyes.  If she so much as catches a glimpse of Harry watching her, her entire body tenses, and she can’t even manage to move a finger over her stomach.  With her eyes closed, however, she can imagine that Harry isn’t there, and she’s just in her room, with his only influence being in her mind as she touches herself.  It may not make much sense, when she could just use the real image of him to fuel her thoughts, but Harry’s presence is so dominating that pretending he’s not there seems to be the only solution.

And so, when her eyes are shut tightly enough that she can’t see the man, but loose enough that she’s comfortable, Y/N begins to touch herself lightly, her fingers tracing over the dips of her stomach with the smallest amount of contact she can manage.

Her touch moves over her skin like a flutter, its only purpose to warm herself up and ease herself into being watched, and while the small brushes against her own skin would normally have no effect on her, in this moment, with Harry standing by her bed, the action feels more erotic than she ever would’ve thought possible.  She slowly glides her hands up to the pink lace of her bra, tracing her finger along the edge of the cup before sliding over the lace to the hardening peaks of her nipples.  She’s more sensitive than she thought, and Y/N’s breath hitches for a moment as she brushes against one nub, tweaking it once more with her finger before repeating the motion on her other breast.  When a quiet but harsh exhale sounds from Harry’s direction, the human girl amuses the idea of removing her bra to give more visual stimulus, but quickly decides against it.  Harry said he wanted to see what she does to herself, she thinks, keeping her eyes closed as she massages her breasts once more.  He didn’t ask her to perform a strip tease for him.

And, in truth, a strip tease is the farthest thing that Harry wants in this moment.  Any girl can take off her clothes and touch herself to put on a show for a voyeur.  If Harry really wanted to watch that, he could easily find countless porn videos depicting the real thing.  But the sight of Y/N gliding her fingers over the soft lace of her bra, tracing unseen roadmaps over the mountains and valleys of her chest and abdomen, parting her lips just slightly as she twists her nipple once more… that’s what Harry wants.  Despite the countless erotic activities Harry has engaged with Y/N, this may be the most intimate, even without touching her.  Maybe that’s why, he muses, only half in the thought as he slowly tugs down the zipper on his trousers, doing his best to make no noise so as not to startle the girl in front of him.  She’s letting him see what she does to herself when no one is around, when she just wants to make herself feel good.  It’s a selfish act, in the best way.  And it’s making Harry’s cock throb like never before.

Y/N’s hands have reached the edge of her panties now, and with her legs spread wide open, Harry can see the dampened spot staining the lavender cotton a shade darker.  Her scent wafts over him as she moves, slipping her hand beneath the fabric, and Harry’s own eyelids flutter as she fills every one of his senses.  There’s a small part of his more instinctual mind cursing him for thinking of this— for establishing an activity where he can see her, smell her, but not touch her.  However, there’s a larger part of his mind thanking him for this.  For the opportunity to bask in Y/N’s own sensuality and pleasure.

The dampness that greets Y/N’s fingers as she slides into her panties isn’t a surprise, but still provides relief.  For a brief moment, the girl had been worried that she’d be too nervous about the situation to let herself enjoy it, but as she teasingly circles her index finger around her clit, she knows that enjoying it won’t be a problem.  Although she misses Harry’s cool touch, the feeling of his rings sliding over her clammy skin, and although it may seem untrue when Harry is in bed with her, no one knows Y/N’s body like she does.  No one can instantly know what feels good and what doesn’t, what needs to be touched with more force, what needs to be gently caressed with a feather light pressure.  Y/N alone is the keeper of those secrets, and although she’s begun to whisper those unspoken tokens to Harry in the dead of the night as he lays between her thighs, she alone knows the real truths.

She continues to circle her clit for a few moments, gradually applying more and more pressure as her free hand clutches her bare thigh, her fingertips digging into her squishy flesh.  It doesn’t take long, however, for Y/N to need more, and she allows her fingers to run over her entrance a few times before dipping her index finger into her hot core. 

While the sound that leaves her mouth is quiet and could potentially go unnoticed, it’s the loud groan from Harry that snaps the human’s eyes open, and the sight in front of her that stops her movements in their tracks.  With her index finger still half inside her, and her grip on her thigh tightening, Y/N gapes at him unabashedly, because Harry looks like a fucking god. 

Her eyes sweep over him methodically, committing every inch of his appearance to memory so as not to ever forget what he looks like when pleasuring himself.  His chestnut curls are tinged with sweat, just beginning to plaster to his damp forehead and neck.  His jade eyes are darkening by the second, while his strawberry lips are parted and dry, despite him swiping his tongue over them every minute or so.  His toned chest is bare, displaying his dark ink for Y/N’s viewing, heaving with every movement of his tattooed arm.  And lower… Y/N moans again as she clutches her leg tighter, nearly enough to bruise.  Harry hasn’t completely removed his pants, but he’s pushed them down low enough that he’s freed his cock, which stands tall and proud and angrily red at the tip that pokes through the tight fist he has wrapped around the length.  Despite the tension in his body, however, Harry flicks his wrist lazily, teasing himself as much as Y/N did earlier, and she wonders if he does it for the same reason she did.  To give their lover something to look at. 

With her eyes locked with Harry’s, Y/N pushed her middle finger inside herself, whimpering at how the extra digit stretches her out.  She curves her fingers as they move in and out of her at a leisurely pace, focused more on reaching deeper than reaching a quick speed.  While her hand busies itself inside her panties, she slides the other from her thigh back up to her breast, gripping and massaging it as her lashes flicker. 

“Look at you.” Harry utters with a groan, breaking the silence between them as he thumbs over the leaking head of his cock. “Christ, you look so fucking filthy.” His eyes shift from hers for just a moment, glueing themselves to the shadows of motion he can see beneath her underwear. “Does that feel good, angel?”

A high pitched whine falls from Y/N’s mouth as she presses the pads of her fingers against the spongy spot inside her, setting off a wave of bliss inside her belly. “Yeah.  Feels—feels really good, Harry.” His name leaves her lips in a breathy mewl as she tweaks her nipple over her bra, throwing her head back against her pillow. 

The newly exposed skin of her neck beckons Harry.  It’s completely covered with a thin veil of sweat, with the heat radiating from her throbbing pulse seemingly reaching towards him at the end of the bed.  He takes a half step forward without realizing it, only catching his action when his knees bump the edge of the mattress. “Fuck—” He closes his reddening eyes to collect himself as his hand quickens its pace around his prick, only opening them again when he’s sure he’s under control. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have a bit of an idea.” She mutters in reply, stroking small circles over her clit with her thumb. “It’s not like you can hide it.”

“But you’re hiding.” The vampire replies in a strained voice, tightening his fist around his cock as he nods to the girl’s covered core. “Take those off for me, pet.  Please.”

Y/N withdraws her fingers from her dripping center, her skin shining in the light of her bedroom as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of the panties. “Wait—” she says suddenly, pausing her obedient motion. “Wait, I—”

The moment his foggy mind registers the word, Harry’s palm stills over his length, and although he doesn’t let go completely, he forces his body to calm down as he appraises the human. “What?” He questions, concern laced into his thick accent. “What’s wrong?”

Sitting up on her elbows, Y/N raises her head from her pillow as she scoots closer to her bedroom wall, stopping once her heated skin grazes the tapestry. “I want you next to me.” Her eyes are pleading as the words fall from her mouth, quiet and desperate. “I promise I’ll stick to the rule— I won’t touch you. I just want you to be comfortable, too, and… and I like it when you’re close.  Please?”

The idea of refusing her doesn’t even enter Harry’s mind.  Within seconds, faster than a mortal ever would, Harry has stripped off his trousers, leaving himself in just his dark blue boxers that are still half rugged down.  He crawls onto the bed quickly, only letting his knee brush against Y/N’s leg before situating himself six inches away from her.  Even with the distance between them, he can still feel an electric energy radiating off of her as her fragrance becomes thicker and all encompassing, making his head swim in the intoxicating honey and lavender perfume. 

“M’here.” Harry murmurs the assurance softly, his fingers aching to reach out and touch her.  Surely that’s not against the rules?  After all, caressing someone’s cheek, and only for a moment, isn’t necessarily sexual.  With that rationalization in his mind, his jeweled fingers brush against the young woman’s flushed cheek, grazing upwards to push a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Y/N whispers back to him, her hands now resting on her tummy as she stares longingly at the figure next to her in bed.  She wonders if the comforting touch is allowed, but decides not to question it.  Questioning it may make it stop, and that’s the last thing she wants.  Instead, Y/N simply places her hand over Harry’s, interlocking their fingers together and bringing his hand to her mouth to smudge a soft kiss over the back of his icy knuckles. 

Harry can feel the pulsing of her heart through her lips, and it takes all of his inhuman strength to pull his hand from hers as carefully as he can. “I think you made me a deal, didn’t you?” He asks, disguising the want in his voice behind a teasing tone. “You said that if I got up here next to you, you’d…” Harry clicks his tongue as he nods at her cotton panties. “Hm?”

Despite the small laugh that escapes her, Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’ve got a one track mind, I swear.” She hooks her fingers into the edge of her panties, lifting her bum off the bed to tug them down her legs and toss to the side. “Happy?”

Harry licks his lips as he watches the girl’s hands drift back to her bare thighs, gliding over the silky skin with small strokes. “Very much so, yeah.” He replies, pushing his own hair back from his face before trailing his fingers back down his stomach.  He wraps his right hand back around his leaking cock, stroking it once as he glances at Y/N again. “Keep going, dove.  Don’t stop on my account.”

It’s like they’re back at the beginning,Y/N thinks, as she dips her index and middle fingers back into her wetness before she circles them around her clit.  With Harry next to her, his presence so very there, Y/N has to close her eyes again to compel herself to relax.  It takes a few moments of massaging her clit and focusing on keeping her breathing steady before she can open her eyes again and allow her gaze to slide back onto Harry. 

The vampire, as expected, looks like an erotic renaissance painting.  His hand is moving faster over his cock now, which is bubbling precum with every few strokes.  His hips buck into his hand every so often, searching for more and more friction as he chases his high.  Like herself, Harry has his eyes closed for much of his movements, but when he does open them, they’re pinned to her form and how she touches herself, like she’s his own personal show.  And, in a way, she is.  And she likes that.

It’s not long before Y/N needs more stimulation, and she thrusts her two fingers back inside herself as her other hand begins to rub over her clit.  The dual sensation sends a hoarse moan falling from her lips, her tummy contracting with the wave of ecstasy that she knows is getting closer, but it’s the feeling of Harry’s lips on her temple that has her breath stuttering. 

His slightly chapped lips move over her skin in slow and sensual movements, opening and closing as he speaks against her. “That’s it, darling.  You’re so close, I can tell.” He sucks in a long breath while bucking his hips into his fist, a whining moan echoing from his throat and into her ear. “Fuck, you’ve got me wrecked…”

Curling her fingers inside, Y/N prods against her G-spot with fervent desire, leaning her head closer and closer to Harry’s mouth as she does so. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, I—” Her words cut off with a broken whine as her spongy walls clench around her fingers. 

“Wish I could touch you.” Harry mutters the dirty confession in her ear, his lips still meeting every inch of skin they can find. “Wish I could make my pretty girl cum…” His brow furrows at the whimper that escapes Y/N at those words. “But at least I know you can—Christ—” He swipes his thumb over his tip again as his other hand moves to his balls, massaging over them with a gentle touch. “—can take care of yourself when I’m not here.”

When Harry’s lips find her neck, suckling at the sensitive spot where it meets her jaw, Y/N moans again, louder than before as she bucks her hips into her hand. “Fuck, Harry—” The way she sobs his name is music to his ears. “Can—can I cum?  Please?” The question rolls off her tongue without prompt, sounding as natural as breathing to the girl. Harry’s not even sure she registers that she’s asked, but the question for permission goes straight to his throbbing cock. 

“Yeah, baby. Cum for me.” He drags his teeth over her fragile skin, aching to bite down but restraining himself from giving in.  Instead, he redirects his reaction to his hand, speeding up his strokes until he feels his balls tighten. “Cum for Daddy.” The way he feels her heart stutter at his words feeds his ego like nothing else, and he brings one hand up from his abdomen to rest on her throat, stretching his fingers to grip her chin and direct her face towards his. “Show Daddy how good you’re making yourself feel.” He demands, his lips ghosting over her own as they both work themselves towards the edge.  His voice sounds less himself and more like a growl with every passing moment. “Cum.”

It’s the final harsh demand that pushes Y/N to thrust her fingers into herself faster, matching her motions over her clit to the new speed.  It only takes a few more moments for the tight ball of pleasure inside her belly to burst, the waves of her orgasm washing over her repeatedly as her walls pulse around her fingers. “Daddy—” The name falls from her mouth and into Harry’s freely.  Her only thoughts are of him as her climax consumes her; only his emerald eyes and cherry lips, only his brunette curls and inked skin, only his calloused hands and thick cock.  He’s all she can think about.  Has there ever been anyone else? “Please, Daddy…”

Harry watches with hungry eyes as the human’s body spasms through her release, the movements of her hands shuddering as the pleasure becomes too great to move. “That’s it, sweetheart.  Good girl.” He grunts the praise through clenched teeth as his own orgasm nears, his hand twisting around his cock more and more. “Prettiest little slut in the world, y’know that?”

Y/N releases a whine of acknowledgement, her chest heaving as she comes down from her high and withdraws her fingers from her core.  Resting her hands on her clenching belly, she turns her heavy lidded gaze towards Harry, watching him eagerly as he works himself. “Your turn.” She murmurs, her lips finding the edge of his sharp jaw and giving it a teasing bit. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?  All over your stomach?”

“If—fuck—if that’s where you want it, baby.” Harry groans loudly as his stomach clenches, the butterfly flexing beneath his strained movements. “You want to watch me cum?  Hm?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums the agreement against his skin, clasping her hands together to stop herself from reaching for Harry’s cock. “You’re usually inside me when you cum, so I’ve never seen it.  I want to see it.”

“God, I—” Harry reaches over with his free hand and grasps Y/N’s warm palm, dragging it up to his hair and tangling her fingers in his dark locks.  It’s a poor substitute for the craving he has to feel her touch over his cock, but the sensation of her tugging on his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp manages to provide the contact relief he desires. “Fuck, right there—” Harry’s abdomen contracts once more as he works himself over the edge and begins to shoot thick ropes of cum all over his tattooed tummy. 

Y/N continues to work her lips over his jaw, whispering anything and everything into his ear to continue to stimulate him through his orgasm. “Looks so pretty, H.” She utters once his cock has finally stopped spurting and he releases it from his grip. “You’re so pretty…”

A breathless laugh leaves Harry’s mouth as he shifts in the bed, wiping his damp hand against his indigo boxers before pulling them back over his shaking hips and exposed cock. “You’re one to talk.” He murmurs, twisting his head to the side to press a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead. “You don’t happen to have a wash cloth handy, do you?”

“I have tissues in my bedside table.” Y/N points to the object in question, and Harry reaches over and tugs open the drawer to retrieve the box of Kleenex.  Pulling a few squares from the box, he makes quick work of the cleanup, doing just enough to save him from the trouble of a sticky stomach. 

“I could’ve done that, you know.  Cleaned you up.” Y/N watches as the vampire stands to dispose of the used tissues, and reaches for her discarded panties to tug them back over her still shaky legs. “You know I like it.”

“I know, but if you did, then I would’ve broken the no sex rule right then and there.” Harry chuckles lightly as he climbs back onto the bed, wanting to reclaim his close proximity to Y/N as soon as possible. “And we’d already come so far.” 

When he opens his arms, Y/N doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle into his cool chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder with a sigh. “I suppose that’s true.”

Harry lets his jeweled fingers trace down her back, drawing random shapes on the damp skin as her breathing begins to even out. “Did you like it?” He asks curiously, a seed of worry planted within the words. “Having someone watch you?”

“I liked having you watch me.” Y/N clarifies her answer as if it were the most natural and easily explainable thing in the world. “Did you like watching?”

Harry giggles again, almost incredulous as he nods his head at the damp spot on his boxers, a symptom of the copious amounts of precum that had leaked from him. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, Watson.  I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself has to ask.” 

“Asking questions is never a bad thing, Holmes.  I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself doesn’t know that.” The girl counters, delighting in the small laugh that shakes Harry’s shoulders.  A laugh falls from her lips as well, followed quickly by a yawn that she unsuccessfully tries to stifle. 

“Tired?” Harry murmurs, his fingers still keeping a steady pace against her back. “It’s only the late afternoon— not exactly late enough for bedtime, is it?”

Y/N sighs into his musky skin, relaxing completely against Harry’s body. “Not exactly, no.  But I think a little post-orgasm nap may be in order.” She raises her head from the crook of Harry’s neck, looking at him with soft eyes. “Will you stay?”

If Harry’s heart could beat, the tender question would make his rhythm irregular, and the knowledge of that fact dries out the venom that had been flowing freely through Harry’s mouth. “Wow.” He tries to disguise the reaction with a laugh. “Our first date, and you’re already asking me to sleep over?  What kind of man do you think I am?”

“Shut up.” The mortal nudges her forehead against his shoulder in a playful manner. “I’m serious.  Will you?  I sleep a lot better when you’re here.” 

The confession falls from her lips as easily as a sigh, but her words lock Harry’s chest in a tight chain, restricting his every breath.  And yet… the pressure is comforting, like a hug from someone you haven’t seen in years and you’ve sorely missed. 

“Alright, yeah.” He whispers gently, caressing Y/N’s mussed hair without tugging on any tangles. “I’ll stay.  We can order some dinner later, if you want.”

Y/N’s voice is already far away when she replies. “That sounds nice.” She whispers, her eyes fluttering closed as her full weight falls against Harry.  Within a few minutes, her breathing has leveled completely in time with her steady heart beat, which thunders against Harry’s own silent chest. 

The vampire sighs as he shifts on the bed, keeping Y/N locked in place against his body as he does so.  How did he end up here, in her bed, staring at that fucking tapestry again?  How did he end up agreeing to stay over, to grab dinner with her after she sleeps?  How does he know that, if she asks again, he’ll stay over tonight as well, even if it means lying still in bed and counting her heart beats until the sun rises through her curtains? 

And why does that sound so appealing?

Carefully, so as not to wake her, Harry shifts Y/N onto her own pillow, removing her from his chest with gentle movements.  Once he’s arranged her in a comfortable position and made sure that she’s still asleep, he cages himself over her, brushing her hair back from her face and inhaling deeply.  This is why, he thinks.  This is why he’s agreed to all of these dates, to holding her as she sleeps, to spending night after night in this tiny human apartment.  Her blood. 

Harry nudges his nose along the length of her throat, breathing in her fragrance as if it were the bouquet of a fine wine.  Her signature honey and lavender scent is as prominent as ever, only amplified by the orgasm-triggered endorphins that are still swimming through her veins.  Letting his lips drag over her fragile skin, Harry smudges kisses along the base of her throat with a light touch, searching for the most tender part that he’s come to adore.  When he reaches the mark just above her carotid artery, he presses a firmer kiss to the skin, admiring how the mortal’s breath floats from her lips in her sleep.  Still, he pauses for a moment to make sure that the sound is just that, a symptom of sleep, and once his suspicions are confirmed, Harry sinks his teeth into Y/N’s satin skin. 

As usual, the relief is instantaneous.  The warm blood that flows into his mouth quells the dry, burning ache in the back of his throat like nothing else, and Harry clutches the girl closer to him as he drinks more and more.  She’s just as sweet as she smells, and there’s that familiar depth of flavour to her that Harry can never quite place a finger on.  Perhaps he could if he spent more time analyzing it, but it’s never too long before he loses himself in her taste, and all rational thought goes out the window completely.  In the reflection of her mirror, Harry can see that his eyes are blood red and black-veined, and that he looks every bit the monster that he actually is.  If Y/N were to wake up right now and see him like this—pale skin, black veins, mouth stained red with her blood—she’d probably scream in horror, and do her best to shove the supernatural creature away.  She would be thoroughly repulsed, Harry is sure.  And, honestly, he couldn’t blame her.  He remembers the first time he saw the red of a vampire’s eyes, and the terror that had seized his entire body like an icy dip in the English Channel.  It would only be a natural response. 

Harry had come to terms with what he is a very long time ago, and though it took a lot of trial and error, a lot of sleepless nights doused with self-loathing and denial, and a plethora of blurry memories full of strangers’ veins bulging under soft skin and glassy eyes dulled by compulsion, he is in a place in his eternal life where his identity doesn’t phase his peace of mind anymore. He hadn’t become a monster willingly, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy having to do the unspeakable acts required for his survival— not consciously, anyways. 

From an instinct-driven perspective, he does enjoy the taste of blood, but it’s only because his supernatural carnal impulses demand it. Ethically, he isn’t proud of his affinity, but it’s not like he has any say in the matter. This isn’t his fault— he was forced to become what he is— and that moral claim is what has kept him tethered to his last few shreds of humanity for the past twenty decades. He’s not doing this to Y/N out of malicious intent, he’s doing it because he has no other choice. Therefore, he assures himself that the traces of guilt tightening his chest at the moment are completely misled and invalid. He hasn’t felt guilt much before— not for years— and he refuses to let it plague him once again. This is just the way things are. This is just the way things have to be. 

So why does he feel so fucking shitty right now?

Pushing the discomforting dwellings to the back of his mind, Harry continues to drink from Y/N, using his final remaining strains of functioning thought to monitor the human’s heart beat and breaths.  When his thirst is satiated enough, and before either one of those human traits begins to falter, Harry releases his bite on Y/N’s neck, licking over the wound with relish to temporarily seal it.  He turns to check his reflection in the mirror again, and finds that, yes, his suspicions are confirmed.  Although he’s managed to keep himself halfway presentable, there’s still a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, and his lips are stained a dark merlot colour from the sweet substance.  Harry swipes his tongue along his mouth, cleaning up any evidence of his late afternoon snack, before bringing his index finger to his mouth and pricking the tip on one of his fangs.  Then, while carefully holding the girl’s jaw open with his other hand, Harry slips his finger into her mouth. It’s practically a ritual by now. 

It takes only a few seconds for the bite mark on her neck to heal completely, leaving behind only a faint purple bruise in its place.  If Y/N were to see it tomorrow, she’d assume it was a half-healed hickey, and wouldn’t bat an eye at it.  She’d have no idea that the real cause of it was—

“Harry…” His name falls from her lips with a quiet stutter, her brow furrowing as if troubled by something the vampire can’t see. “Harry…”

“Y/N?” He whispers in reply, his limbs sealing over with ice as he freezes in place as if he were a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Everything alright, love?”

“Harry…” The human utters his name once more as a frown begins to tug at her pillowy lips, and it takes another moment of her shifting in the bed for Harry to realize that she’s still asleep, and the murmuring of his name is merely a symptom of her dreaming of him. 

Oh.  She’s dreaming of him. 

There’s a spark of something in his chest—happiness?  Excitement?— but it’s quickly extinguished by the realization that, if Y/N is dreaming of him, her body language is making it clear that the dream isn’t a pleasant one. 

Harry releases a frustrated sigh as he sinks back down into the sheets.  That’s to be expected, really.  After all, he did just feed from her; if she’s having a bad dream about him, it would only be logical. 

Still, the sight of her shifting in bed with a distressed look on her face pulls an equally distressed look from the immortal, and he only hesitates for a moment before carefully maneuvering the girl back onto his chest, positioning her so that he can easily rub her warm back with his cool hands.  

“You’re alright.” He murmurs softly into her ear, his voice low and melodic despite no one being around to hear it. “You’re fine, sweetheart. I’m here, hm? Go back to sleep.”

It takes a few more minutes of back rubbing, whispering, and a handful of strategically placed forehead kisses, but Y/N’s face finally relaxes as she falls back into a deep, untroubled slumber against Harry’s chest.  As her breathing evens out again, Harry breathes a gentle exhale of relief.  That was a close call.  The next time he feeds, he’ll have to make sure she’s truly unconscious, and has been so for a while.  Her bad dream, whatever it was, had probably been caused by him digging into her prematurely.  Next time, he’ll wait until the dead of night, when she’s deep in REM sleep.  She’ll be more comfortable then. 

Which reminds him— he has plans he has to cancel tonight, and the sleeping girl on his chest mixed with his phone being in his trouser pocket on the floor make a difficult combo to surpass. 

Despite the testing task, Harry manages to retrieve his phone from his discarded linen pants after a few minutes of awkward stretching, some light grunting, and a few curse words, but he manages to do it without waking Y/N up (she moves a couple of times, but a few soft words and tender hushing Harry’s behalf sends her right back into her dreams).  With one hand still wrapped around her back, Harry manages to type out a quick message to Niall. 

Won’t be able to make it tonight— something came up with Y/N.  Have fun at the bar. 

Harry references her by name, knowing that Mitch had probably already blabbed to their entire friend group about the date he’d had, and about how a human girl had recently become the target of his fascination. Juicy gossip is indisputably one of the aspects that keeps eternity from growing stale, and the vampire’s crew believe that to be so more than anyone. There’s not a single doubt in his mind they’d eaten every word up, and that he’d probably get drilled on it later.

He keeps his phone clutched in his hand, waiting for a (sure to be ridiculing) reply from Niall that comes a few minutes later. 

The girl from last time? Jesus, again?  Weren’t you meeting her for brunch?

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Harry’s lip. I did meet her for brunch.  And then I met her back at her apartment, and I’ll probably be meeting her again later after we get some dinner.  Don’t wait up.

After that text, Harry drops his phone on the bedside table, expecting Niall to just leave him on read in a fit of annoyance.  He’s surprised, however, to hear the quiet vibration of his phone a moment later, and picks it up to skim the message with pressing curiosity. 

You’re a fucking incubus, you know that?

The smirk on Harry’s swollen lips suddenly drops.  

While it’s not the first time he’s been called an incubus, it is the first time the label has ever bothered him. Why is that?  It’s not like it’s untrue; he frequently seduces various people, many of them being women, in order to sleep with them and drink their blood. That’s what an incubus does.  The label shouldn’t pester him.  In fact, it should boost his ego. 

But the title being applied to his relationship with Y/N… that gives him pause. It reminds him of a certain person— a certain disgrace, if he’s being pettily honest— who he had sworn never to think about again, out of respect for his sanity and emotional stability. It reminds him of how when he himself was mortal, he was under similar circumstances to what Y/N is under right now— he was a human blood bag to a vampire who took pleasure in his body. 

This is different, Harry tells himself.  I’m not going to ruin her life. She’s not going to end up like me. And we have an understanding, which I never got to have. This isn’t the same. I’m...I’m not the same.

In his steadfast opinion, the immortal isn’t an incubus when it comes to Y/N and it’s that simple, point blank. Saying he is… that sets the implication that he could be doing this with anyone, and that’s just not true.  Even though he’s keeping Y/N around as a convenient fuck with delicious blood, he wouldn’t go to this much trouble for anyone else; no one else is worth it.  No one else has her honey and lavender scent, or contagious laugh, or can match him so easily in banter without flinching or blinking an eye.  And though he’s too attached to his own pride— to the inherent coldness and indifference he’d worked so hard to build over the last two centuries— to let her know, he’ll admit that there’s no one else like her. There’s no one who’s company he enjoys quite the same. 

Harry doesn’t indulge Niall with a response, simply closing his phone and setting it back on the bedside table.  His friend can think what he wants, Harry decides, returning his attention to tracing figures on Y/N’s back.  Harry knows what this really is.  He knows, and it’s not some evil plan to permanently damage her. It’s just a simple loose relationship between two people who float an inch above the friendzone. That’s all. 

Friends, just slightly more. 

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

[unbound-space-trash]

Heartbeat (part 2)

summary: din wakes up and does a little bit of self-reflection (part 1) [ao3]

words: 1,638

a/n: coolcoolcool so what was supposed to be a oneshot has... evolved...

warnings: a sprinkle of language, a smidgen of fluff, and a dash of self-deprecation

~~~

Din becomes aware of two things as he’s unwillingly pulled into wakefulness for the second time this sleep cycle.

The first is the familiar crick in his neck that he tends to get when he sleeps with his helmet on.

The second is your warmth. At some point during the sleep cycle, you’d draped yourself over Din like a blanket, entangling your legs with his, all while still keeping an arm curled around the Child. Your face is buried in Din’s neck, and his skin threatens to break out in goosebumps at the warm puffs of your breath over his collarbone. 

Din shifts himself a little to try and get comfortable, but stops when you nuzzle further into his neck. He feels his face warm up a little as he feels your lips brush against his skin when you mumble something unintelligible in your sleep before you settle again.

In the quiet of the bunk, Din’s mind starts to wander. He thinks about how your lips felt as they brushed against his neck in your sleep. Wonders what they’d feel like as you leave trails of kisses across his skin. How they’d feel against his own, how you’d taste-

No. Din feels his face heat up again, this time with embarrassment and shame as he drags himself out of that line of thought. He berates himself for those thoughts. You were in here for warmth because the Crest’s heating had crapped out, not so he could live out some far-fetched fantasy of having you in his bed, no matter how brief or innocent.

Much like you had only a couple hours earlier, Din begins to slowly make his way out of the bunk, taking care not to wake you or the Child. He quickly shoves his feet into his boots before the chill of the floor can steal too much warmth. 

At your groan, Din turns around and watches as you unconsciously seek his warmth, his lips twitching with a small smile when you give up and roll both yourself and the Child into the warm space Din had occupied. Reaching in, Din adjusts the blankets to make sure you’re both properly covered before closing the bunks door and making his way up to the cockpit. 

After securing the cockpit door behind him, Din slumps down in the pilot's seat, pulling off his helmet and setting it on the floor within reach. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs, absent-mindedly watching as the cold air in the Crest turns his breath to fog. Din came up here with the intention of seeing if there was any way to fix the heating without fucking around with the wiring, but his mind clearly has other ideas because he can’t seem to focus on anything aside from how you felt in his arms. 

Din could get by before, back when the feeling of you pressed up against him was something he had to use his imagination for. Back before he’d felt your lips against his skin. 

But now? Knowing how it feels to wake with your legs tangled with his? How your breath makes his skin break out in goosebumps? Din wants to have that forever. Wants to be able to wake up next to you every morning. He wants to be able to wrap you in his arms and hold you. 

And damn it all, Din wants to know how your hair feels when he buries his face in it. He wants to know how your chapped lips feel against his. And certain parts of Din’s anatomy definitely want to know how you’d feel under him, how you’d sound when you moan his name while he-

Stop it, stop it, stop it! 

Din kicks the edge of the console in frustration and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes go away. He knows he could never have you. He doesn’t deserve you. You deserve to be able to settle down on a nice planet with someone who can give you everything. Someone who doesn’t hide behind a wall of silence and beskar. Someone who doesn’t jump from one end of the Outer Rim to the other, chasing people down and shoving them in carbonite. 

Never someone like me. 

Din lets out a shuddering breath before shaking his head a little and shoving all those thoughts behind a mental wall. Self-deprecation sure as shit won’t get anything fixed. 

He’s just turned his attention back to the console when he hears a rustling and then a knock on the cockpit door. 

“Mando?” Your voice is rough with sleep, and muffled through the door. “You in there?”

Din grabs his helmet from the floor as he stands and puts it back on before going to open the doors. 

Your hand is raised as though you were about to knock again, a look of surprise on your tired face. You’ve got a blanket clutched around your shoulders to ward off the cold, and your feet shoved into your unlaced boots. Your hair is a disaster and your eyes are red rimmed and bleary with sleep, but fuck, you are by far the most beautiful person Din has laid eyes on. 

“What are you doing up?” he asks softly. 

You lower your hand back to your side. “I, umm, I woke up and you weren’t there,” you shuffle your feet a little and peer around him into the cockpit. “I- wait… you- you weren’t sleeping in there were you?! Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own bed!”

Din rolls his eyes, and a small smile tugs at his lips at your worry. “You snore. I came up to see if there was anything I could do to get the heating back up.”

You shake your head. “Nah, I’m almost certain it’s something to do with the wiring or the heating element. I’ll take a look at it in the morn- wait...” you frown as what he’d said catches up to you. “I do not snore, you ass!”

Din tilts his head and doesn’t say anything, knowing it’ll get a reaction out of you.

You cross your arms and scowl at him. “We’ve been travelling together for too long for me to fall for that, Mando. Stop trying to make me doubt myself.”

He’s glad that the helmet hides the growing smile on his face as he continues to stay silent. 

“I don’t snore, you snore,” you grumble. 

Din shrugs as he moves past you and heads down the ladder. “If you say so.”

He waits for you down in the cargo hold, his brain doing the math of a ladder plus loose boot laces plus your tired, clumsy self. And sure enough, halfway down the ladder, you step on your own laces and fall into Din’s waiting arms, your back against his chest. 

He chuckles as he makes sure you’re settled properly on your feet. “Shu’shuk.”

You turn around and give him a confused look. “‘Shoe shook’? My shoes didn’t shake. I… tripped…”

Din snorts. “Not ‘shoe shook’. Shu’shuk. Disaster.” He turns and takes the few steps towards the bunk.

“They sound the same to me. Also; rude,” you say as you walk over and sit down on your cot. 

Din turns around at the creak it makes. “What are you doing?” Surely you’re not going to try and sleep out here in the freezing cold again?

“Going back to sleep?” You look down at your lap uncertainly. “I- I didn’t want to assume…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He waits until you look up before he gestures at the bunk with his head. “C’mon.”

You stand and walk over, and the soft smile on your face leaves a warm feeling in his chest. “Thanks, Mando.”

Din pushes the button that opens the door, and both of you immediately focus on the lump of blankets in the middle of the bunk that’s snoring louder than it has any right to. 

“He snores,” you and Din say at the same time. 

“Looks like the blame was misplaced,” you whisper with a grin on your face. 

“Looks like,” Din murmurs and he leans in to pick up the Child masquerading as a pile of blankets. He kicks off his boots and climbs into the bunk with the still-snoring Child in one arm, and after shifting himself to one side, he holds his other arm out in invitation.

You toe off your own boots before clambering into the bunk and sitting next to him. “Pass him here, might as well sort ourselves out before we lay down.” You hold out your arms and the Child is gently deposited into them. 

Din pulls the blankets up over your laps and manoeuvres so that he can lie down on his side, then he gently helps you to get comfortable so that the Child doesn’t wake up. Once you’re laying with your back to his chest, your head pillowed on his arm, and the Child tucked into your own chest, Din finishes pulling the blankets over all of you. He reaches a foot out of the blankets and presses the interior door controls to seal in the warmth before shoving his foot back under the blankets. 

“Night again, Mando,” your voice is already slurring as the cocoon of warmth lulls you back into the waiting arms of sleep. 

“G’night shu’shuk,” Din hums, and he rests his free hand on your hip again. 

“St’ll rude,” you mumble before your breathing evens out with sleep. 

Din lies awake for a bit longer, just listening to you breathe. Maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but in this moment, he just wants to savour the contact, enjoy the warmth of you against him. 

Just this once.

(part 3)

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x gender neutral reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian

[stoneworldsimp]

I know the songs

senku x reader

warnings: kissing in the end, crying

senku wakes up to the sound of the floorboards creaking.

peeling his eyes open, he looks around while keeping his body in place; nothing moved out of place. no pots of minerals have been taken. good, he thinks, it isn’t a thief. closing his eyes again, he slowly turns to his other side and faces the door that is now open. moonlight shines on his face.

he opens his eyes once more to see you sitting outside on the ledge of the hut, your back bent from hunching over to hug your legs to your chest. he couldn’t see your face, but it seemed you were looking up at the sky. he smirks to himself, wondering why you were up so late when you all had a big day ahead of you tomorrow.

before he realizes it, he’s getting out from under his covers and making his way next to you. the floor creaks once again, but he tries to be quieter. he knows you sense him behind you.

“why are you awake?” he asks once he’s sat next to you. his head is turned toward your face.

you keep your eyes on the sky. “thinking.” you don’t continue.

senku stays quiet, copying your body by peering up at the stars and resting his arms on his knees.

the weather was perfect, no wind was passing and it was almost, almost too warm to sleep with some sort of cover. stars were scattered by the billions, clear for anyone to see if they stopped and looked for a moment. neither of you knew what time it was. time passes slowly; senku believes more than an hour goes by before you speak again.

“before we turned to stone, i used to be a musician.”

his ears grew hot. his mouth opens slightly as if he were to respond to you, but you continue before he has the chance.

“i was a pianist. i played for lots of concerts before i turned eighteen, and it was amazing. playing with huge groups of singers or musicians in school made me realize i wanted to do it as a career. and honestly, i wasn’t super amazing in any other regard. playing piano was the only thing i was ever good at.”

you pause for a moment, and senku thinks to ask about your favorite song; he goes against it, in case you have more to say.

“this is the longest i’ve ever gone without doing anything..music related. even when i traveled from home and stayed with another family, there was a conservatory that was open for anybody who wanted to practice. normally i could at least listen to some arrangements or concertos online, but..obviously, we don’t have that.

“but, what if i forget how to play one day? it’s bound to happen, i’ve been itching to play for months but i’m barely remembering melodies to songs i thought would never leave my head. and no offense, but despite you moving relatively fast on creating certain contraptions, i doubt it’ll be quick and easy to build a piano. even if we end up finding materials, and building the shell, and the wires, and the hammers, and the keys, its going to be super hard because hell, if we can get the correct intervals for each key and build one thats at least two or three octaves...what if i stare at it forever, and can’t even touch it, because i just,”your voice wavers and lowers to a whisper,”because i just forget all of it?” you feel a tear halfway down your cheek and promptly wipe it away, glancing at senku for a split second before turning your head away. hopefully the moon wasn’t that bright.

minutes pass slowly and you’re about to give up on hoping for any kind of comfort when he lightly laughs. more tears fall from your eyes; dumbass. i knew i shouldn’t have opened up to this guy.

“that’s not going to happen.”

at his sudden change in emotion, you whip your head back around. senku faces you, the moonlight accentuating half of his face.

“you aren’t going to forget how to play just because you haven’t been physically playing. most of the time, memorization isn’t remembering melodies but also muscle memory too. if you think about the movement of your hands while running through anything in your mind, the memory’s gonna grow even stronger. you’re not going to forget how to play, because you are constantly strengthening your skills internally. from what ive seen in the mere months of us working together, you have an excellent memory. you’re strong on the inside.”

he feels relieved when he sees you smile, no longer sniffling with your body turned away. before you can say anything back, he mumbles,”i can also tell youre practicing in your head because i have to repeat what i say to you about four times before you can actually comprehend—hey!”

you push his face away with your hand as you laugh quietly. he laughs with you while his head comes back and you reply,”thanks, i think, senku.”

the both of you are closer than when he first sat next to you; your body is now facing his, only one leg dangling over the ledge of the hut. both of his legs are hanging but his torso is turned completely to you, and your faces are only a couple of inches away from each other.

with a small inhale, you close the gap and push your lips onto his. it’s awkward, it’s wet; you stay connected for a long time before pulling away. senku’s smirk is plastered on his face but he’s burning a bright red from ear to ear. due to the overall darkness and your own blushing face, you don’t seem to notice. you can only feel yourself getting hotter, and see the way his lips are slightly glistening from your spit after kissing him. you’re the first to talk, and it barely comes out as a whisper. “uhm, sorry. it’s uh, it’s been kind of, well, it’s kind of been a long time. since i’ve really done something like that.”

“let’s try again.”

you feel your heart drop at his immediate response. it must have shown in your face, because his smirk grows even bigger.

“it can be better, yeah? i’m ten billion percent sure that practice makes perfect.”

#dr stone #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ishigami senku x reader #ishigami senku #senku ishigami #dr stone imagines #dr stone scenarios #senku ishigami fluff #this was fun. hardcoreeeee skimping for this fucker #oh my god

[kimjihyun-archive]

Hi!! I love your writing 💗 idk how to request but can you do ❝I wouldn’t mind wasting my time on you.❞ With Jumin and mc please. I picked this cuz i remember on the first days in the game Jumin would say that he has no time to talk or he doesn’t like wasting his time and hangs up quickly. So it’s sweet that after he caught feelings for mc he starts to make time for her even when he’s busy. Thanks 💗

devotion | jumin han

WARNINGS: more fluff baybee, you know, you get it, this is entirely self indulgent, i’ve had so many headaches this week, help

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this took me FOREVER i’m so sorry. and yes!! this is such a lovely concept!! i was so excited to write this, thank you so much! i hope this is alright!

When Jumin placed his briefcase on the counter that night, he cursed himself for growing so accustomed to her presence.

To the sounds of her presence, more specifically. The humming of kitchen appliances, or gentle footsteps across the floor, or the buzz of the TV when she played some soap opera that she never quite paid attention to. Hearing a hollow silence throughout the penthouse felt off. The sounds of her daily motions had ceased, leaving Jumin’s mind to reel in the quiet air.

He called out to her, lining his shoes up at the door, and waited.

Nothing.

He peeked his head into the living room, then the kitchen and—

Nothing.

He called out to her again, his voice tugging at the silence. He knew he could go exploring if he so wished, but this was close enough to their usual routine that it didn’t make his mind stutter at the unfamiliarity quite yet.

Then, a hum from the bedroom. His feet trailed the hall until he caught a glimpse of her at the doorway. She was curled into a ball—a rolling entanglement of sheets and pillows—settled into the middle of the mattress.

“My love,” he hummed, stepping into the room, just in front of the bed. “Are you alright?”

She groaned in reply, further twisting herself into the comforter as a soft ‘no’ fell from her lips. His brows raised.

“Headache.” Her fingers curled around the sides of her face, massaging her temples. “A bad one.”

“I can call the doctor if you’d like. I’m sure he can—”

She shook her head before he could finish his statement, leaving the words to hang on his tongue.

“No, no.” She tucked her head further into the pillow beneath her with a defeated hum. “I’m sure it’ll go away… eventually.”

Jumin sighed at her stubbornness but opted not to push her further. He knew that he could insist for eternity and she wouldn’t budge. He loved her—adored her, but he firmly believed she was the only one on the planet who was more insistent on getting her way than him. Normally, it was something he admired. Here, however, he started to believe it would be the death of her.

Eventually, he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders, draping it over the bedside table, and leaned forward, pressing his knees into the mattress. His fingers, frigid as ever, met with the center of her forehead and she leaned into his touch, cold skin quickly becoming solace to her aching skull.

“Have you been staying hydrated? It might alleviate the pain to some degree.” He brushed his thumb across her forehead, watching as her expression softened under his fingers.

“A bit,” she replied quietly. “As much as I could handle.”

“Good,” he nodded as the pad of his finger traced her hairline. “And have you tried medication?”

“Mhm…” She dragged out the hum, reaching up to grasp his wrist softly. Her fingers directed his hand so it sat in the middle of her forehead, her body settling at the temperature. “Could you just… stay here for a while?”

Her eyes fluttered open, a certain dullness tugging at her features, and Jumin chuckled at her.

“Of course.” His body slipped onto the mattress as he rolled up his sleeves, situating them in the middle of his forearms. Her movement towards him, though sluggish, was immediate as she rolled towards him, settling against his chest.

The winter air still stung at his skin from when he entered the building, but he suddenly found himself thankful for it as she tucked her chin just above his collar. She was warmer than he’d expected and, if he had to guess, her body was nearing feverish temperatures. If it were up to him, the physician would already be on his way to the penthouse, but she requested he lie there and he was never one to go against her wishes.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled softly into his chest, leaving his face to twist in confusion.

“For?”

“Wasting your time.” Her arm slipped from the ball of sheets to wrap around his chest—a desperate plea to god for her to melt into him. “I’m sure you still have work to do.”

He laughed at that. His voice was soft enough to not further extend her headache, but still evident enough to make his chest shake. He knew she meant it, but the idea of giving him such an apology as she pulled him closer to her was oddly comical to him. There was no question that she felt bad, but there was also no sign of her letting him go anytime soon.

“Darling,” he chuckled, planting a kiss to her forehead. “You’re not feeling well—it’s no waste of time.”

Her hand stretched to rub at her eyes with the bottom of her palms as he traced his fingers along her face, lightly massaging her temples.

“And, for your information, I wouldn’t mind wasting my time on you. In fact, I would gladly do so if it made you happy.” His voice held a gentle lilt, but it was stern enough for her to know he meant it.

From the moment he slipped a ring on her finger, and even well before that, he knew he was willing to do anything for her. If he could, he would grant her every wish and fulfill her every need. He only hoped to provide her with the solace she had long given him, and any semblance of such made his heart thud in his chest.

She giggled at his reply, though not without her face contorting in pain. Another sigh fell from his throat, but adoration still clung heavily on his features as his fingers met her hair, brushing a loose stand behind her ear.

Something about her was rather funny to him. Jumin, for as long as he could remember, prided himself in being completely infatuated by his work and only his work. Over time, much of his devotion had traveled to Elizabeth, and keeping her happy—but to be so unbelievably smitten for another human being was, even after months of engagement, still very much foreign to him.

“Thank you,” she finally said, pressing a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “You mean the world to me, Jumin Han—did you know that?”

Oh, how his heart sung.

If he could, he would lay like this for the rest of his life. He wished nothing more than to ease the ache that had bloomed throughout her skull, but to have her remain this close to him forever seemed utterly divine.

“I love you,” was all he could manage to reply. The words tumbled from his mouth, but his adoration was clear. “Unbelievably so.”

#jumin han #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #han jumin x mc #mystic messenger

[necros-writing-stuff]

Fucked up love interests you say? Can I request Eden getting sick of Avery keeping his kid from the woods, so Eden breaks into Avery's place, ties to to a chair and makes him watch as Eden ruin's his kid. He wanted to rail them in his cabin, but fucking them stupid in front of their dad works too. Better if it starts as noncon, but the PC is addicted to Eden's cock by the end.

Would Avery get off on watching this, even with how much he hates Eden?

Got a little carried away here, so under the cut for length

Eden comes into town looking for supplies, same old, same old, only this time his eyes end up falling on non other than stuck-up Avery coming out of an expensive looking jewelers with the prettiest little thing Eden has ever seen following soon after.

He's overjoyed when you call out "Father!" to get the businessman's attention. He's your dad, not your daddy. That's good, Eden doesn't like the thought of that fucker having touched you.

Immediately, fantasies about bringing you home and having you sit in his lap so you can cockwarm him while he reads rush through his mind, and the hunter finds himself trailing the two of you to Avery's car. And memorising the make, model, and licence plate.

It takes so long to find out where you live. Big, fancy house with a pristine garden - no suprise there. Then he has to watch and find out when you'll be home alone. Easier to get you that way. Then he had to call in favours from Bailey to get some stuff to disable the over the top security system.

One day, when he's walking past, he bumps into Avery by accident. The rich prick had the audacity to sneer at him and tell him to get out of the neighbourhood, that his mere presence is bringing down the property value, before shoving past and entering his gated community. Looks like someone hasn't grown since school. If he'd stayed a moment longer, Eden would have started throwing punches.

Instead, Eden's plans to get you alone and take you away secretly morph into something else. Something more vengeful.

When the time comes, he slips in through a window and silently makes his way up to the master bedroom. Avery sleeps peacefully, in silk pyjamas of all things, and the hunter gags him before he begins binding the man. He wakes up half way through, but its too late at that point.

Avery struggles against the rope and tries to scream, skin going red at how angry he is. Its funny to see, actually. Such a high and mighty man reduced to this. The hunter drags his catch out of his room, across the hall, and into the room of his sleeping prey.

You wake up, hearing the racket, and freeze in shock at what you see before you yell out for your father. Still, you hide beneath your blanket - as if it'll protect you from anything. You don't need to be scared anyways, you're about to have the ride of your life.

Eden drops Avery on the floor, maybe purposely letting his head bounce against the wood for his own entertainment, before marching over to you and ripping away the covers.

Kick and scream all you like, the hunter finds it easy to tear your clothes off and wrestle you into submission. You're so small and delicate, you need to be protected and cared for properly - and considering what happening now, clearly the businessman isn't capable of doing that.

Just like your father, Eden ties you up. Unlike him, you're not gagged. He wants to hear you beg for him at some point tonight. Wants to hear you moan out when you cum on his prick.

"You did a good job making this one," he praises as his hands trail all over your bare skin. Avery still flails on the floor, voice going hoarse from all that screaming he's been doing. Tough luck, he's stuck until Eden decides otherwise.

You're crying and shaking, begging to be let go as the hunter flips you onto your back and spreads your legs to get a good look at that pretty little hole. His mouth waters, and he can't help himself from having a taste.

He's never gone down on someone before. He hopes you enjoy the way his tongue teases, the way he fucks you open with it.

"Please, mister, please stop!" your voice quivers as you say it, obviously affected by the stimulation he's giving you. Maybe you're just trying to put up a front for dear old dad, so he doesn't think you're a whore. It's okay, Eden will still give you what you need.

Your taste is amazing, he thinks. You're amazing, body so perfect, voice so sweet. He could tongue-fuck you all day, but tonight he has other things in mind.

The hunter is breathing heavily by the time he comes up for air, desperately hard in his pants. He nearly tears them when he shoves the fabric down his thighs, letting his massive cock out and laying over you so you can see exactly how deep it will go. The thing reaches your belly-button.

Eyes wide, you try to wiggle away. "No, it's too big! Please, it'll hurt, mister, please-"

Not listening, Eden presses the thick head to your spit-slickened hole and starts pushing in, savouring how you gasp out and go stiff. A loud bump from the floor let's him know Avery is still trying to get loose. Frustrated screams tell him it's not coming along great.

Bottoming out, Eden leans over your body and starts fucking into you like an animal, squeezing out every whimper and whine that he can from between your lips.

Full, is how you feel. So incredibly full and it's hard to breathe from how this stranger batters your poor hole. Each drag of his dick against your gummy walls send a million jolts of pleasure through your body, and you want to cry harder from the guilt that it makes you feel.

Your father is there! Bound, being forced to watch as you're raped - as you enjoy being raped - in your own bed! Who was this man, anyways? A competitor? No, he's not dressed like a man your father would bother with. He looks wild and uncaring. Rugged. And unfortunately, handsome.

"Such a delicate thing, aren't you? You'll make a wonderful spouse when I get you home," he says as he pounds away, before turning once again to Avery. "You're not going to see them again after tonight. You don't deserve to have such a sweet thing as yours. Can't even protect them in your own home."

It makes you nauseous to hear the plans he has for you. That you're about to be abducted and kept god-knows where by this mad-man with a grudge. Will he hurt you? Will you be forever kept captive?

You can't look at your father. You can't see the heartbreak, anger, maybe even disgust that could be on his face. That would be a sight that would haunt you in your dreams, and you want your memories of him to be good ones. Like the times he takes you for icecream after you do well on tests, or takes you to wonderful parties where you can wear your best clothes. Instead, you study the wild man above you. Focus on the stranger's long hair and muscled body. Try to steady your breathing and hold in moans as a coil forms in your stomach.

One last time, you attempt to get away, only to be pulled right back onto his length. The change in angle makes it hit something inside of you just right, and you keen in a high pitched tone. So good, it feels so good, and you hate this man for it.

Eden loves the dazed look in your eyes as he hammers at that special spot. How he can see all logic leave, replaced by lust and a need to get off. So he stays consistent in his movements, giving you exactly what you need, so he can feel you tighten around him, ready to milk his cock like a good little pet.

Back arching, your whole body shakes as you reach your peak, incoherent babbling falling from your mouth. Its all so hot, so addicting to see, and the hunter joins you in your bliss soon after.

Dick still twitching, Eden stays buried inside of you. He'll be starting up another round in a minute or two, but he wants to treasure this moment. Treasure how you've become putty in his hands, not even whining when he leans over and kisses you. You have such soft lips.

"Good pet. There's plenty more where that came from, I promise. You just have to keep being so well behaved, just for me," he whispers into your ear, placing butterfly kisses along your neck as he does so.

Reluctantly, he pulls back. A certain someone had gone quiet, and the last thing he needs is the bastard getting free and starting a fight.

Luckily, Avery is still where he left him. Must have gave up fighting, instead laying there with his cheek smushed against the polished floorboards, breathing hard through his nose.

"Tired already? Come on, you've barely moved. Fucking pathetic, really. What, don't love your kid enough to make a real effort to save them?" there's no reaction from the businessman, so Eden pushes further. "Nah, you're all performative. Only pretending to care so they'll be obedient and keep your reputation up, right?"

That gets his attention. Earns Eden a seething glare that only makes him laugh. Then it's back to you. To caressing your cheek as he starts pumping his hips again.

"I'll care for you, genuinely. I promise. You'll never have to doubt me," he coos, a hand coming between your legs to play with your sensitive sex. You arch up into his touch with a moan, too tired to deny your body the things it seeks.

Preserve your energy, you tell yourself. Be pliant and good so you can fight back later. Don't think about how right it feels to be impaled on this man's prick, how mind-blowing your orgasm was.

Limp, covered in his own sweat, and full of solemn defeat, Avery watches from across the room. Sorrow is what he feels, along with rope burn across his skin perfect, cared for skin. Sorrow that, yet again, Eden has won. That he can't break free of these ropes despite working so hard to keep in shape. That his only child is being defiled by such a brute.

Avery can't do anything as his baby is fucked into oblivion over and over again. Can't tune out the moment you stop begging for it to end and instead ask for more. You're only trying to please the hunter, he reasons. Only being submissive so you aren't hurt, you're smart like that.

At least, that's what he hopes.

#Eden the Lonely #Avery the Moneybags #younger au #tw noncon #spill your guts #anonymous

[atinybitofau]

[ateez] S E O N G H W A ⤮ baby daddy au

HIS SON IS A PRODIGY AND HE NEEDS A (mommy) NANNY. MAFIA SEONGHWA.

a/n: in honor of the beautiful vlive from last night 😭😭. how ya’ll doing Seonghwa stans?

• Seonghwa’s proud of his son.

• even if he works dirty jobs—

• isn’t exactly proud of himself.

• he’s got pride, believe me.

• but it’s not ordinary pride.

• Seonghwa’s far from the ordinary.

• “The nanny quit.” Hongjoong teeter’s Seonghwa’s baby-double on his hip. “Hwa, you need to find someone who can handle Yeolhwa. Your son is as bad as you. If not, worse.”

• he chuckles lowly putting down his stack of papers before reaching over for his son.

• his son always curling at the scent and warmth of his father.

• he playfully glares picking at his cheeks before telling him, “Yeolhwa, you can’t just pull nanny’s hair when you can’t get something you want. That’s not good.”

• Yeolhwa’s too young to understand.

• because his son is spoiled by everyone he encounters.

• and Seonghwa expects nothing but when he works his ass off to get the things he wants.

• he doesn’t want his son to struggle the way he did when he was young.

• “What’s the mother doing?” Hongjoong is merciless when he asks. “That dumb skank only knows one thing and it’s popping kids and popping pills.”

• he admits he’s had too much leisure when having his fun in the past—

• but he never regrets having his son in a mistake he can barely even remember.

• “I’ve made it clear he needs no mother.”

• “Seonghwa, no matter what you do, that boy needs a mother.” the younger rolls his eyes. “A nanny can only make up so much for what you deprive. And your job doesn’t make things easier. You can’t take care of him like this forever. Not by yourself.”

• Seonghwa teeters his own son to sleep in his arms.

• staring and cradling his face like he’s the greatest gift not even money can buy—

• not even his power.

• he didn’t have to kill someone to get Yeolhwa.

• his son is everything to him.

• but he has to make sacrifices to give his son everything.

• nothing is ever just given.

• “I’m sorry it’s such short notice, Ms. y/n. But I hope the accommodations we have are enough to settle with.” Hongjoong opens the door for you. “Yeolhwa can be a little arduous when it comes to caretaking. Do be careful.”

• you are anxious you must admit.

• the home smells eerily like iron and musk.

• you can tell the job you took wasn’t just leisure or easy money.

• “Oh.” you shyly smile. “I’m sure he’s just a little hard to understand. Children can be unpredictable and we can’t blame them for that.”

• Hongjoong hears that too many times.

• knows that’s what they all say.

• chokes on his breath before he says something that might scare you away.

• “Well I must get back.” he hands you a cellphone and a book of references before pulling his suit. “Please don’t hesitate to call me. Everything you need is in that book. I’ll be back to relieve you at 9 pm tonight.”

• “Thank you, Mr. Hongjoong. I hope I don’t let you down.”

• he scoffs at that. “Good luck, Ms. y/n. You’re gonna need it.”

• you don’t know what that means.

• but you’re more concerned on taking care of a child who is claimed to be intolerable.

• and you stern by the idea of inexperienced children.

• because they’re not like us.

• they learn from what they’re surrounded with.

• “M-mr. Hongjoong. I’m sorry for bothering you but I was wondering if I can take Yeolhwa to the park today. I see there’s no schedule for outside play time and I—“

• “Unfortunately his father doesn’t approve of outside exposure.” Hongjoong’s fast to quib. “He’s going to have to settle playing inside.”

• “But Mr—“

• “I apologize y/n but that just can’t happen.”

• you observe Yeolhwa.

• he’s a quiet and kept child.

• but he doesn’t like the word no.

• no, he likes getting what he wants.

• and he plays with his toys like they’re not toys at all.

• holds his toy gun like it’s almost real.

• “Yeolhwa, what’s that baby?”

• he looks up to you with golden eyes. “Nanny y/n.”

• you smile at the small boy who offers you a book. “You want me to read to you?”

• he cracks a smile and curls in your lap.

• he’s a sweet kid and is quite capable.

• but you see why he’s not easy to deal with.

• not when he throws tantrums like he’s a grown ass adult—

• “Yeolhwa baby, put the book down.” you ease him in the best way possible. “Sweetie, you can’t play anymore. You have to take a nap.”

• he sobs again.

• hurling a heavy hard cover book in your direction.

• sighing, you only collect the things he throws never giving it attention.

• it only peeves him more.

• “You can cry all you want. But crying won’t get you your toys, baby. You have to sleep.”

• eventually fulfilling your hopes,

• he gets tired.

• curling in your lap when he seeks comfort and warmth for slumber.

• once he’s asleep, you pack your things ready to leave for the night.

• “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

• Hongjoong’s surprised the safe house wasn’t a complete wreck.

• he’s surprised nothings broken.

• but notices the bruising marks that formed on your legs.

• “I’m assuming you won’t be back?” he asks while teetering the small sleeping boy on his hip.

• “I’ll be back.” you affirm. “And I don’t intend to leave any time soon.”

• he’s convinced you’re different.

• that you have a certain will and composure that resembles someone he knows.

• tells Seonghwa immediately.

• “She’s worth watching. You should definitely see.”

• it happens again for the next couple days.

• but Yeolhwa’s toys hurt more than the books.

• and now you’re bleeding hard in the bathroom while he sleeps in his bed.

• “Children are unpredictable, y/n.” you mumble to yourself. “They grow learning from you.”

• Seonghwa watches through his monitor how you treat his child.

• sometimes peeved that you don’t give his son what he wants—

• but mesmerized when his son crawls into your lap every time despite it.

• “Hongjoong, I’ll be picking up Yeolhwa tonight. And prepare Yunho for babysitting duty.”

• Yeolhwa cries when he’s pulled out of your arms by a dark suited man,

• wants to stay in yours.

• crying for your name while you smile softly at him, hand to his cheek.

• “I’ll be back tomorrow, baby.” you coo. “Be a good boy okay? And I promise if you don’t cause trouble, I’ll come back every time.”

• he understands well for a child.

• curling obediently into the dark suited man who resembled him after you spoke.

• “I’m assuming you’re the infamous father?”

• Seonghwa studies you. “You take care of a child well. Thank you.”

• you shake it off pulling at your scarf. “I take care of a child as if it’s my own. Thank you for letting me.”

• your voice is soft,

• motherly and gentle.

• Seonghwa hasn’t felt this kind of delicate emotion in years.

• “I have dinner waiting. Care to join me?”

• you smile while holding at Yeolhwa’s reaching hand. “I have my own family I must attend to, Mr. Park.”

• “It’ll only be a couple minutes.”

• you notice the tattoos on his neck.

• the similar stamp of injustice that lingered on each of the men you’ve met prior.

• realizing days ago that Seonghwa’s son was a prodigy.

• one so that isn’t exactly safe or ordinary.

• “Your family relies on you.” Seonghwa keeps his eyes on you in midst of eating. “You’re a very lovely woman, y/n. Strong willed and captivating.”

• you blink softly unsure of how to respond. “I do what I must..”

• “Don’t we all.”

• your eyes meet his and you swallow your emotions harshly biting back at your lip.

• you don’t deny he’s a charming man.

• like his son, quiet and kept.

• “But you’re a beautiful woman too.” he admits. “Caring and gentle. My son’s fond of you for those reasons. He has good taste.”

• “Like his father I presume?” you tease making him laugh. “I have one request I want to light up though, Mr. Park. I want to bring your son out. Expose him to more than just the guns and walls.”

• he notes your observance.

• strong willed indeed.

• “I trust you.”

• you should be the one trusting him.

• but it’s inevitable what happens with his son as soon as he’s vulnerable, exposed.

• he’s a prodigy wanted by the best and worst of the world.

• and now your shielding a child with your own life.

• as if he was yours.

• “Hey baby, don’t cry. You’re gonna be okay. Yeolhwa, you’re gonna be okay sweetie.”

• he’s only crying because you’re crying.

• cause you don’t know what to do in this situation.

• but when Seonghwa appears from nowhere, spins you and his son around into his chest,

• you suddenly feel safe.

• him guarding you,

• you shielding his son.

• “Y/n, look at me.” he’s careful to touch you. “I’m gonna need you to come with me, okay?”

• you can only blink when his son is yanked out of your hands,

• the poor boy wanting only you.

• but with Seonghwa’s men, he’s safer.

• Seonghwa staying behind to protect you.

• “Y-Yeolhwa!”

• “He’s gonna be okay.” Seonghwa caresses your face shooting blank bullets over the car you two hide against. “I need to get you out of here okay? You need to be strong for me.”

• crying’s not gonna get you anywhere and if anyone were to know that, it would be you.

• so you follow.

• now safe from harm, Yeolhwa sleeping soundly on your lap,

• while his men try to console you with a cup of hot herbal tea and sweet talk.

• “This must be a lot for you. We’re sorry y/n.”

• you smile softly bouncing Seonghwa’s son up and down on your lap. “I don’t mind. I read the book Hongjoong gave and it was all in the fine print. A disclaimer that promised to keep me safe.”

• it’s no lie even Seonghwa’s men find you attractive.

• and it might be because you’re so humble.

• so delicate.

• Seonghwa has a proposition for you when Yeolhwa’s asleep.

• today being the day you should be quitting.

• but you promised Hongjoong your full effort and nothing but.

• “Y/n, stay with me.”

• Seonghwa leans his forehead against yours, hand cradling the line of your jaw.

• you feel warm against his touch.

• like a baby to a mother.

• in this case, a woman to a man.

• “Stay with me and Yeol.” he runs a finger over your parted lips. “He needs you. He needs a mother.”

• he admits his son has grown to love you.

• and maybe he’s grown to love you too.

• “I can’t take care of him the way you do.” he watches as your eyes lull to his voice. “He won’t be able to live without you.”

• “I’ll stay for as long as he needs me too.”

• it’s the first time Seonghwa’s ever stayed home.

• ever slept in his own bed with his own son curling into his chest.

• but it’s not the first time he’s slept in a bed with a woman.

• but it’s the first in his own bed with a woman he loves.

• “Mommy, hurry..”

• your eyebrows furrow and you whip around to face Seonghwa and his son,

• “M-mommy?”

• Seonghwa chuckles brushing through his sleepy son’s hair. “You heard him, mommy. Come to bed.”

• you take care of his son like he’s your own.

• but now Yeolhwa doesn’t need a nanny anymore.

• most of the time, looking for his father.

• “He doesn’t need me anymore, Seonghwa.” you playfully nudge at him when his chocolate haired son plays with new toys. “I don’t think I need to stay.”

• “Absurd.” the mafia boss spins you on your feet so your lips meet his. “If he doesn’t need a nanny, he needs a mother. But if he didnt need you at all then stay because I do.”

• you giggle against your boyfriend’s lips.

• “Hongjoong keeps having me sign a contract.” you pull at his collar, studying his eyes some more. “But the one this morning seemed to have unordinary discrepancies.”

• “That’s because that was a marriage contract.”

• “Ah.” you tease, him biting at your lip. “That must be why I saw your name instead of Yeol’s.”

• “APPA!”

• you two are suddenly pulled apart, the small boy holding out his arms protecting your legs.

• “You’re hurting mommy with your teeth! Bad appa.”

• you choke a laugh when Seonghwa furrows at the cockblock son of his.

• “Yeolhwa, you can’t just hurt me to get the things you want.” Seonghwa teases hoisting up his smiley son on his hip. “Who taught you that?”

• “You appa. You said we have to protect mommy from bad people. And that mommy should never get hurt.”

• “Oh yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

@atinybitofau

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