ginger, cracking an eyelid and thinking about opening requests for a little bit? its more likely than you think đđ
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made for lovin' you || e.m.
summary â after years of silently pining for your best friend, you finally accept a date at your favorite dive bar. but things never go as planned, do they? alternatively, jealous eddie, too many whiskey shots, and a friendship shattering, almost confession that leads to some delicious smut.
word count â 5.9K (yeah, yeah, i'm a wordy bitch, idk what to tell y'all).
warnings â insufferable pining (a real idiots to lovers), cursing, fucking in the back of eddie's van, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, please!), squirting, daddy kink.
extras â don't really have an excuse of this other than i'm entirely whipped by this man. as always, please give me some feedback! comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated and the askbox is open for requests!
âi literally have nothing to wear.â you protest, for what feels like the hundredth time, sighing heavily with disappointment.
still, you continue shuffling through your rather small selection of clothing, grimacing at the apparent lack of options whilst hoping something suitable will magically manifest itself.
âthen donât go.â eddie immediately suggests, half-chuckling. you brush his comment off with a roll of your eyes, trying instead to focus on putting together a semi-decent outfit.Â
to say that eddie had been uncharacteristically awkward lately was, in fact, the understatement of the century. the shift in his behavior had began shortly after you agreed to go on a date with none other that jason carverâs right hand man, andy.
from the moment youâd accepted the invitation, eddie had come up with an impressive amount of reasons as to why you had to cancel - it was dumb to start a relationship with graduation just around the corner, andy would undoubtedly try to take advantage of you, and maybe this was all just a mean prank concocted by jason and the entirety of the basketball team.
in turn, youâd done a pretty decent job refuting each and every one of his incessant pleas to bail, somehow managing to produce reasonable, well-thought out rebuttals. but a small fraction of your mind couldnât help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive behind eddieâs seemingly legitimate concerns.
could it be that eddie was jealous? that the thought of you with another man frustrated him? just as quickly as you had begun to contemplate the idea, you shoved the thoughts to the back of your mind, rationalizing that he was simply being an overprotective best friend. besides, now was certainly not the time to contemplate your rather confusing relationship with eddie.
âoh my god!â you gasped excitedly, a face-splitting grin forming on your lips. you'd finally found your long-lost, favorite pair of leopard pants tossed just behind your laundry hamper.
âwhat happened?â eddie queried at your sudden excitement.Â
âi know what iâm gonna wear!â you giggled, collecting a few additional items from your closet. âiâll be right back!â you added, hurriedly exiting your bedroom.
the trailer you shared with your mother was similar to eddie's and, arguably, far too small for the pair of you. the bathroom, of course, was no different. you shuffled into it sideways, leaning back to shut the door and making quick work of removing your clothes in the cramped space. as you shrugged out of the oversized metallica shirt that hung from your shoulders, you silently wondered where youâd acquired it from, though you were almost certain youâd stolen it from eddie the last time you'd helped him with his laundry.
you quickly slipped into your pants, before tugging on one of your all time favorite belts. you proceeded to squeeze into the only push-up bra you owned and slid into a cropped, black tank top. you took a moment, then, to touch up your makeup - you reapplied some powder, refreshed your black liner, and swiped on mascara. you ultimately decided on a deep, crimson red lipstick, applying it carefully onto your lips. satisfied with your appearance, you head back to your bedroom.
âwell, what do ya think?â you ask, hands fidgeting behind your back.
eddie sits at the very edge of your unmade bed, leaning forward and resting his head between his hands. at the sound of your voice, he perks up and takes a moment to inspect your outfit.
his big, doe eyes somehow look larger than ever as he takes in your appearance, slowly raking over every curve and indent of your body. he notes that youâve opted for an outfit that accentuates your curves, a noticeable shift from your usual repertoire of oversized band tees and hoodies.
you're clad a cropped, black AC/DC tank top that displays a considerable amount of cleavage and skin tight leopard pants that hug your hips and ass firmly. the ornate chain belt youâve chosen draws attention to your snatched waist as well as your exposed midriff. eddie swallows thickly before meeting your eyes once again.Â
âyou tryinâ to get laid tonight?â the question falls from his lips teasingly, as he effortlessly shifts back to his usual, flirty persona. âcuz you look good enough to eat.â he adds with a mischievous smirk.Â
âyeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, munson.â you joke in response, actively choosing to ignore the butterflies that have formed in the pit of your stomach.
you watch as eddie pushes up onto his feet, easily towering over you as he closes the distance between you, substantially. you look up at him, swallowing back the faint desire to kiss him, silently wondering why you had agreed to this stupid date in the first place.
âi'm gonna give you a ride,â he doesnât give you the opportunity to decline, âthereâs no way i'm letting you get in a cab lookinâ this good.â he adds.Â
your relationship with eddie was confusing and nearly impossible to describe, especially in moments like these - caught somewhere between friendly teasing and aggressive flirting. in fact, it'd been this way for as long as you could remember. you definitely weren't dating nor were you lovers, but calling him just a friend felt utterly and completely insufficient.
neither of you ever really acknowledged or discussed the odd dynamic you shared, choosing instead to remain in an uncomfortable in-between; a perpetual game of "will they, won't they" that drove everyone that had the misfortune of being around you absolutely insane.
and, to be perfectly frank, thatâs likely why you had accepted such a random date invitation. you were tired, exhausted even, of pining after eddie, year after year, to no avail. graduation was indeed just around the corner, and after giving eddie what felt like plenty of opportunities to make a move, youâd grown incredibly frustrated. you were convinced he did not reciprocate your feelings and that it was finally time to move on.Â
âwhatever you say...â you wink, turning on your heel and heading toward the front door.Â
eddie watches as you shuffle through the living room, shrugging into a cropped leather jacket heâs sure belongs to your mother. heâs entirely mesmerized by the sway of your hips, inhaling sharply as you bend at the waist to slip into a pair of black platform boots. the position gives him a fantastic view of your ass, one that will no doubt remain etched in his memory for the weeks come. he coughs to shove down the heat that rises up his neck, cramming his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep himself from reaching for you.
âready?â you smile, looking back to find eddie already looking at you.
thereâs an expression strewn across his features that you canât quite decipher.
âuh, yeah, letâs go.âÂ
the walk to eddie's trailer takes less than a minute, his beat-up van parked crookedly as always. you smile, happy not only to save yourself a cab fare but also to spend a little extra time with eddie. no doubt, his familiar and comforting presence will work to steady your ever increasing nerves.Â
you both slide into the van with practiced familiarity, a pleasant silence forming between you. as eddie pulls out of the trailer park, youâre already skimming through the expansive music selection nestled in the glove compartment. you easily find the mixtape youâre searching for, one youâd made for him on his birthday a few months ago, handing it over with a pretty please. though eddieâs eyes remain trained on the road ahead, he obliges, taking the tape and slotting it into the player.
the ride to downtown isnât particularly long but eddie still manages to drag it out as much as he possibly can without drawing suspicion. he drives just under the speed limit, braking as soon as he spots a yellow light, and taking his time at every turn and speed bump. you're entirely unaware, focused instead on adjusting your hair, humming along to the music, and observing the passing scenery. eddie side-eyes you casually, enthralled by your beauty, struggling to formulate a single, believable excuse to turn the car around.
much to his dismay, eddie comes up with nothing, left with no choice but to pull into the dingy parking lot behind the hideout. it's a shitty little dive bar, favored by the older teens of hawkins for its lack of supervision. simply put, as long as you looked of age, ID checks were omitted all together. you had eagerly agreed to meet andy here for your date, the prospect of a couple free drinks and some dancing at your favorite bar enticing you.Â
as the engine comes to a stop, you realize youâre about fifteen minutes early. eddie hopes you'll wait with him in the car, giving him a few extra moments to come up with something to say. instead, he finds himself cursing internally as he watches you unbuckle and start exiting the van.
âthanks for the ride, munson!â you smile widely, an air of excitement radiating off you.Â
âanytime, princess.â eddie responds, matching your smile weakly. âkeep an eye on your drinks. and be safe!â he urges.
âalways am!â you remind him, giving him a small wave and making your way toward the barâs entrance.Â
what little nerves youâd felt up to this point increase tenfold as you enter the hideout, hands suddenly clammy and hot. you look around to see if andy has arrived and, much to your relief, he has not. this gives you an opportunity to get yourself settled and pound a few drinks to calm your nerves.Â
you survey the seated bar area, opting to claim two seats at the very corner, with an excellent vantage point of the entire bar. lloyd, the sole bartender on friday evenings, approaches you with a gentle smile. he's middle aged and incredibly kind, happy to see a familiar face.
âwhy hello there, pretty lady.â he greets you, as he always does, placing two coasters onto the wooden bar. âi'm assuming you're waitin' for someone?â he adds, motioning to the empty stool you've positioned beside you.
you nod.
âi've got a date.â you explain, wiggling your brows excitedly. lloyd chuckles.
"well, i can't wait to meet the lucky fella.â he grins. âshall i get you the usual while you wait?â
"yes please!" you smile.
by the time lloyd asks if you want a refill, itâs 9:17 PM and andy still hasn't arrived.
and, while thereâs slight pity in his tone, lloyd remains as sweet and attentive as ever. he reassures you that heâll bring you as many refills as youâd like and even goes as far as to offer you a plate of nachos, free of charge. you politely decline, rationalizing to yourself that basketball practice probably ran late and that andy would arrive at any moment. after all, he was only running seventeen minutes behind. and though lloyd nods in agreement, you canât help the total humiliation you feel.Â
each minute feels god damn near eternal, ticking by slowly and tauntingly. your nerves and excitement steadily morph into a sinking feeling that youâve been stood up.Â
it had all felt too good to be true - a conventionally attractive jock asking you out, whilst you were clad in a hellfire club t-shirt and sat next to the recently acquitted murder suspect and town pariah, eddie munson, who you happened to call your best friend.
still, you had agreed to the date, undoubtedly encouraged to do so both by your high consumption of cheesy rom-coms and the burning desire to finally get over eddie. your thoughts spiral, uncontrollably, as you remember how hard eddie had tried to dissuade from this date. you realize, suddenly, heâd been trying to protect you from precisely this outcome.
by 9:32 PM, you shamefully begin collecting your belongings and tossing some cash onto the bar, when youâre interrupted by a familiar voice.
âsorry iâm late, sweetheart.â eddie makes a big show of apologizing, his voice loud enough for everyone in a considerable distance from you to hear.
actually, youâre sure the entire bar hears.
âeddieâŠâ though you're surprised by his sudden appearance, you canât help the smile of relief that moves across your lips as you look up to meet his eyes. you take him in, fully, noticing heâs shed his earlier casual look for one thatâs a little more dressed up.
he's clad in a deep burgundy button up, which remains undone dangerously low, revealing much of his pale, tattooed chest. it's tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans that cling to him in all the right ways. he's topped off the look with his usual worn out leather jacket, matching black leather boots, and his signature silver rings. you finally manage to tear your gaze away from his body and meet his eyes.Â
âlike what you see?â he teases, with a wiggle of his brows as he slides into the stool beside yours. he casually wraps his arm around the back of your stool and you unconsciously lean into him, happy to feel the warmth radiating from his frame.Â
âyou know i do.â you manage to tease back, licking your lips as you speak. âwill do a shot with me?â you add, looking up at him through your lashes. you do your best to look adorable, pouting your lip in the way you always do when you want something.
âwhatever ya want, princess.â eddie is smiling, radiantly, and calling over lloyd.Â
one shot turns into several. you find yourself happily wrapped in eddieâs arms, swaying rhythmically on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the bar.
eddie's massive hands are warm on your waist, guiding you with ease to the beat that reverberates from the massive speakers. in turn, your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. while youâre certainly not drunk, thereâs a noticeable, warm buzz thrumming through your body, one thatâs gently dulled the ache of having been stood up. though, you suppose that eddie also had something to do with it.
âhowâd ya know i got stood up?â you ask curiously, realizing that eddie had arrived out of the blue, with near impeccable timing.
âwhat do you mean?â he looks down at you with confusion. you roll your eyes.Â
âyou showed up without me calling,â you explain, âso iâm wondering how you knew andy never showed."Â
âah,â eddie pauses, he hesitates, briefly, âi actually had no idea youâd been stood up.â your curiosity quickly turns to confusion.
âthen why did you show up?âÂ
thereâs a brief, noticeable lull in the conversation as eddie quietly contemplates his response. you feel him tug you closer, his gaze meeting yours almost sheepishly.Â
âi was fully intending on crashing your date.â he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. âhad a whole speech and everything.âÂ
âyou were gonna crash my date?â your mind is suddenly racing, heart beating faster and faster with each word. âwhy?â
eddie sighs heavily, wondering how you could be so impossibly oblivious. what little courage heâd managed to muster up until this point begins to leave his body, abruptly so. he stops swaying, stilling the both of you. his hands remain firmly on your waist as his bottom lip tugs between his teeth.Â
âdonât make me say it.â eddie pleas, softly, eyes wide and affectionate. âyou know why.â he tries, leaning impossibly closer, his lips mere centimeters from your own.
his eyes remain trained on yours, a faint smile across his features as he lovingly watches the gears turning in your mind.Â
oh.Â
oh.Â
the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, knocking the very air out of your lungs. it happening. it's finally, fucking happening.
eddie doesn't give you much time to contemplate or process what he's essentially almost confessed, instead, he's pressing his lips tentatively against your own. his movements are gentle and unsure, almost as if he's testing the limits. but his lips, god, his lips - they're soft and plush, yet still firm as they press into yours.
you hesitate, only momentarily, as your brain short-circuits. all the while, eddie's grinning against your lips, using your surprise to his advantage. he takes the lead, with confident ease, using the opportunity to find his way past your lips. his tongue is warm as it teasingly drags against yours, his slender fingers pressing and exploring the exposed skin of your midriff.
you're breathless, trying to keep up with eddie, using your hands to find purchase in his frizzy, messy curls. eddie grunts as you tug, delving into your mouth with such fervor it's as if you're the very source of oxygen keeping him alive. a low moan escapes you as his hands move to your ass, only to be interrupted by lloyd's disgruntled voice.
"ay! ay! lovebirds!" lloyd shouts, instantly catching your attention. you break apart, managing to steal a glance at eddie as you do - he's all smiles and sparkling eyes. meanwhile, you can feel yourself turning several shades of cartoonish red that feel humanly impossible.
"yeah?" eddie chuckles, nervously shifting his weight between the balls of his feet. he keeps an arm around your waist, holding you to his side.
"as happy as i am to finally see you two together," lloyd confesses fondly, motioning between you, "let's keep it family friendly, yeah?"
you snort, left hand shooting up to your mouth in a vain attempt to hold back your laughter. eddie's just as giddy, a ball of energy, practically vibrating beside you, waiting to explode.
"my bad, lloyd!" you try, offering him the most innocent smile you can manage. eddie watches you with nothing but adoration as you wave a hand apologetically in lloyd's direction.
"yeah, we were just about to head out, actually." eddie announces, smiling like a bumbling idiot. he's quick to take your hand, intertwining your fingers effortlessly, as he guides you toward the bar.
without so much as another word, eddie is tossing several bills down onto the bar and gathering your belongings. you follow suit, mindlessly so, entirely enthralled by his presence. even now, as he's half-rushing you out the door, eyes as wild as his hair, there's a radiance about him that sends butterflies bursting through your stomach.
"slow down!" you giggle, half-stumbling over your feet as you trail behind eddie. he's eagerly making a beeline for the van, turning back and smiling at you in a way that makes it impossible to be mad at him.
"slow down?" eddie repeats in disbelief, as if you've just asked him the most ridiculous question he's ever heard. "i've been wanting to kiss you for as long as i can remember, y/n," he confesses, nearly out of breath, "gonna need more."
for a second time that evening, eddie's words have left you completely and utterly speechless. he ushers you carefully into the back of his van, shutting the doors behind himself, and climbing over your form. you fall back onto a disarray of discarded clothing and blankets strewn about, leaning back onto your elbows to really look at him. he hovers, briefly, almost as if awaiting permission.
"think i've been waiting just as long, eddie." you admit, like a blushing school girl.
eddie's smiling as you're speaking, chuckling before he's closing the space between you. his movements are deliberate, now, as he presses against you in a bruising kiss that sends electricity shooting through both your bodies. it's all tongue and teeth, with clumsy hands eagerly exploring new territory. your legs wrap around his waist as he slots himself between them, his mouth moving past your lips. he kisses your skin as he descends down the line of your jaw and settles at the crook of your neck.
the sounds that leave your mouth are sinful, shit, they're down right poronographic, and eddie can't get enough. he attaches himself to your neck, sucking, nibbling, and marking your skin with love bites and bruises. your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he can't help but rut himself against you, his erection growing with each moan and whimper he's able to draw from your lips.
"eddie..." you're gasping for breath, completely and unabashedly wrecked.
if it were anyone else, you'd be ashamed of how desperate you sound. but it's you, and it's eddie, and it's years of pinning and wishing and hoping finally coming to fruition.
"don't worry, i gotcha, princess." eddie promises against your abused skin, making his way back up to your lips.
eddie kisses you with a sense of urgency that has you absolutely buzzing, your body arching up into his, begging for more. he steadies you with shaky hands, his movements revealing he's just as desperate as you feel. his chest is rising and falling rapidly with ragged breaths, his warm, inviting pupils blown wide with lust.
every touch, every kiss, every sensation is far better than any dream or fantasy your imagination has concocted over the years. and by the way eddie's erection remains firmly pressed into your inner thigh, you know the sentiment is mutual. he unexpectedly pulls back, fully separating your bodies, and taking a brief moment to commit you to memory. he sits back on his heels, frantically pushing the hair out of his eyes to carefully observe you.
you're a complete mess - red lipstick and runny mascara smeared across your skin, lips swollen and wet from kissing. your hair is sprawled around you, like a makeshift crown of sorts, chest heaving with broken breathing. eddie decides, then and there, that you are the most beautiful person he has ever had the privilege of knowing.
"why are you looking at me like that?" you're hyper-aware of his gaze, the way his eyes move up and down your body.
"because i'm so fucking in love with you." eddie concedes, with a playful chuckle and goofy grin across his lips. you're positive your heart finally bursts at his words, a face-splitting grin moves across your lips.
"do remember freshman year, when i confessed i liked the beatles and you learned hey jude because it was my favorite song?" your question catches him entirely off-guard, yet he nods, remembering all too well. "that's when i knew i was in love with you. still am. not sure why i agreed to this date." you ramble, hiding your face behind your hands.
eddie is quick to remove them, pecking kisses across your cheeks, down your nose, and onto your lips. these kisses are different than before, playful and immature. he's smiling as he continues the attack on your face, eyes gleaming in a way you'd never seen before.
"this isn't ideal," eddie hesitates, nervous and unsure. "we're in the back of my shitty van, it smells like weed and my dirty laundry, and we've been sucking face like horny teenagers." he pauses, briefly, as you both laugh. "but i mean it, y/n." he struggles to repeat his earlier confession, but quickly realizes he doesn't have to. not when you're smiling up at him, nodding with a knowing expression.
"i know, eds." you reassure him, reaching up to caress his face in an affectionate gesture. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "but if you don't fuck me soon, i'm gonna think you're lying and ask andy out on a second date." you add, playful as ever.
"jesus fucking christ, y/n!" eddie's grunting and laughing, already leaning into you. "you're gonna be the death of me."
you watch, eagerly and without protest, as eddie positions himself comfortably between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands find you like pulling magnets, holding you tightly and tugging you into him as he finally reunites your lips.
you both move frantically, now, having finally acknowledged the unspoken feelings between you. and eddie becomes a man possessed, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and asserting dominance with ease. he begins dry humping you in earnest, his thrusts matching the rhythm of lips.
"eddie," you moan, "please." your hands tug at his shirt as you grind your hips up to meet each of his thrusts.
it's entirely embarrassing to contemplate, but you're absolutely soaked, cunt clenching around nothing as you move in perfect tandem with eddie, chasing the pleasure that begins to invade your senses.
"please, what?" he hums against your lips, expertly guiding your movements.
despite the layers of clothing separating you, eddie's cock somehow manages to catch your clit with each thrust. your head involuntarily lulls back, eyes fluttering closed as eddie gradually increases the speed of his thrusts.
"tell me what you need, baby girl." he instructs, watching hungrily as your expression contorts in pleasure. the sounds and expressions you make are so much better than anything he's ever imagined and he hasn't even made you cum yet.
"please..." you repeat, again and again, like a broken prayer, unable to form a coherent response. you figure he'll understand, leaning forward to find his lips.
instead, eddie quickly and harshly tugs you back by the hair, looking down at you with a dimpled smirk that sends waves of anticipation and arousal coursing through your frame.
"use your words, princess." eddie tuts, licking his lips as he halts his movements all together.
you whine as he holds you in place, entirely still, audibly protesting as he hovers above you. the sudden lack of contact is unbearably sobering and you find yourself trying to grind back up into him. he only chuckles, holding you in place with ease, watching you expectantly. his hands are firm against your waist, powerful even, and you're positive you'll have marks in the morning. the thought thrills you.
"no more until you use your words, pretty girl." eddie insists. "you gotta tell me what you need."
"need you to touch me." you're gasping as you speak, struggling against eddie's unrelenting grip. he smirks. "need you to fuck me, eds."
the way you say his name, so fucking wrecked, the way you look up at him, with lust-blown eyes, it's all too much.
finally, and much to your relief, eddies relents and resumes kissing you. he shifts his attention, however, nestling himself between your legs and kissing his way down your body. you're practically writhing beneath him, hands carding through his curls, trying to gain purchase.
"eds, baby, please." you whine as his mouth latches onto the skin just beside your navel, sucking and biting hungrily. his nimble fingers make quick work of your chain belt, finding the waistband of your pants and tugging impatiently.
"up." eddie grunts, tapping your hips. you oblige, leaning back onto your shoulder blades so that he can remove your pants. "are you fucking kidding me?" eddie groans in lustful disbelief at realization that you're not wearing any panties. he very nearly creams himself as he rips the leopard pants off your body and tosses the offending material aside with little care.
before you can fully comprehend what's happening, eddie is alternating between kissing your inner thighs and dragging his tongue slowly over your heated skin. you're jerking at the sensation, tugging his hair impatiently, trying to keep what little of your sanity you have left.
"oh my god..." you breathe, brokenly, as eddie presses his thumb experimentally against your clit. he circles the bundle of nerves slowly, mouth still working up and down your thighs, as he sets an unforgiving pace.
"can i taste you?" he looks up at you with those big doe eyes, licking his lips in what can only be described as hunger. you're nodding, furiously, because you don't trust your voice.
eddie finally dips down and laps at your folds, tongue hot and heavy as it teases your hole. he showers you with affection, kissing and sucking every inch of your pussy as his index finger pushes into you. he finally wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the nub deliciously, and pushes a second finger into you.
you're sliding your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots, knees buckling as you grow weaker with each of his movements. he reads you like a book, alternating between lapping at your hole and sucking your clit, curling and scissoring his fingers expertly inside you, pushing you steadily toward orgasm. you're so incredibly worked up you're practically vibrating around his fingers, walls clenching and contracting.
eddie's fingers are dragging inside you, pushing and pulling all at once, steadily firm with pressure. he bends and pushes them down just right, working tirelessly to help you climax. in turn, you've lost all sense of your surroundings, repeating his name like mantra, over and over, nearly choking.
"eddie, eds, i'm so close..." you manage, tears brimming your eyes as your stomach tightens with familiar pressure.
eddie doesn't back off, no, instead, he's increasing his pace. his swollen lips drag over your folds as he alternates between wrapping himself around your clit and showing love to your entrance. you're hips move of their own accord, riding his tongue, thighs wrapping tightly around his head.
you climax, screaming eddie's name loud enough to wake the dead. his hands on your waist are the only thing grounding you in reality, a firm reminder this isn't all some incredibly vivid daydream. your body is limp and entirely overwhelmed, head rolling back and eyes fluttering closed. eddie watches your thighs, still shaking, as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm.
"god fucking damn it," you chuckle, "that was the best orgasm of my life." eddie smirks, entirely satisfied with how thoroughly he's made you fall apart.
"best orgasm of your life?" eddie repeats, chin and mouth glistening with a mixture of your arousal and climax. he's never looked hotter.
you reach out for eddie, despite the exhaustion you feel, palming his erection through the fabric of his jeans. you're applying just the right amount of pressure to the underside of his cock and eddie's twitching, rutting and thrusting against your hand, taking any relief he can get from you.
"still need you to fuck me, eds." you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.
there's a shift in the atmosphere, the air thick with anticipation.
eddie's nodding mindlessly, hands fumbling awkwardly with his belt and jeans. you giggle as you help him, tugging the material and aiding him as he kicks off his boots, followed by his jeans, and briefs. a small gasp falls form your lips at the sight of eddie's unclothed cock, long and hard, slightly curved to the left.
"you ready for me, baby girl?" eddie smiles down at you, gently. you're absolutely beaming in post-orgasm glow, nodding eagerly.
eddie leans down and finds you lips yet again, taking you in a gentle and passionate kiss. as his tongue explores your mouth, he drags the head of his dick up and down your soaking folds, collecting as much slick as he can before he's pushing against your entrance. you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him as close as you can, legs wrapping around his waist.
a guttural moan leaves the both of you as eddie begins sliding into you, his thick, hard length dragging deliciously deeper and deeper into you. despite your previous climax, your walls still struggle to take him in, stretching to accept his impressive size.
"god, you feel so fucking good." eddie emphasizes, his voice almost unrecognizable, deep and destroyed. he stills himself, once he's at the hilt, giving your body an opportunity to adjust.
you're grateful for the reprieve he offers you, shakily breathing through the dull pain, inhaling and exhaling as your body gets used to the feeling of eddie inside you. he's buried himself in the crook of your neck, cursing against your skin, throbbing inside you.
"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks, you grind your hips up in response.
"eddie, move, please."
eddie, ever the gentleman, obliges, setting a slow, passionate pace. his thrusts are gentle and loving, every inch of his cock deliberate and calculated. and while his pace is slow, it's powerful nonetheless. the finesse of his hips has you moaning, creating tight knots in the pit of your stomach once more.
"faster, need you to move faster." you beg, chasing the feeling of pleasure that crashes through you.
"i gotcha, y/n, i gotcha." eddie hums, increasing both the speed and force of his thrusts.
the van shakes at eddie's sheer force, the windows fogged, air humid. his hips are relentless, the sound of your slick folds and his balls slapping against your cunt intermingling and resounding loudly all around you. your body reacts favorably to the new pace, convulsing with sheer ecstasy. eddie's grunting and cursing as your pussy sucks him in, swallowing him whole with each thrust and contracting around him. he's driving you back with each thrust, the top of your head making repeated contact with the center console between the driver and passenger seats.
"i'm getting close..." you moan, nails digging into eddie's shoulder blades.
"don't cum until i fucking tell you," eddie commands, finding your gaze, "wait for daddy."
that word, so filthy and dirty, falling from eddie's swollen, bruised lips, as he's balls deep inside you, sends you into overdrive. you're silently talking yourself down, gripping onto eddie, forcefully trying to keep yourself from climaxing. eddie, in turn, only grows more unhinged, chasing his own high, hitching your right leg onto his left shoulder.
"almost there, baby girl, i'm close." eddie reassures you between grunts and there's tears streaming down your face.
"need to cum, daddy, please." you're sobbing now, voice ragged and hoarse.
eddie can feel you shaking against him, body contorting, desperate to feel release. you're arching up against him, harder with each thrust, tits pressing deliciously into his chest. he slots a hand between your bodies, finding your clit with ease and swirling his thumb sinfully against it.
"cum for me, y/n." eddie finally allows, thrusts growing sloppier and infinitely more primal. "say my name."
"eddie!" you're screaming, like a goddamn banshee as your climax hits. you tighten and clamp down around eddie's cock, squirting your release all over yourself and eddie.
"fuck...." the feeling is unlike anything eddie has ever experienced and it shocks him to the core. his thrusts stutter, momentarily, before he's spilling into you, hot, white cum filling you deliciously. he rides out his orgasm, worsening your sensitivity, watching you in disbelief as he finally stills his hips.
"that was..." you try, eddie pecking your lips lovingly.
"that was definitely the best orgasm of your life." he chuckles, smirking. "and mine."
before you get an opportunity to respond, the back door of the van is being tugged open and eddie is scrambling to cover your exposed body.
"freak, have you seen-" you scream with surprise, eyes widening at the sight of a horrified andy looking on. "what the fuck, y/n?" andy's shouting now, too, covering his eyes as he swings shut and slams the van door.
you look up at eddie and you're both bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, cheeks red with a mixture of embarrassment and post-coital exertion. you cannot believe that andy actually showed up, nearly an hour and half late, to find you naked and tangled between eddie's legs.
"should i chase after him and ask him for a second date?" you joke, gently pushing back a few stray curls from eddie's eyes.
"yeah right," eddie bites back, grinning, "as if i'd share my girl with that jackass."
eddie falls, entirely spent, beside you, tugging you into his chest and wrapping an arm protectively around your shoulders. you, in turn, wrap an arm around his waist and lay on his chest, craning your neck to look up at him.
"your girl?"
"yeah," eddie is beaming, "my girl."
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[9.54]
âpairing : Bang Chan x fem!Reader
âgenre : angst + fluff
â content warnings : merman AU, strangers to lovers, â ïž mentions of death because reader almost drowns. mentions of murder. donât read if you donât feel comfortable with it â ïž
âword count: 4.350
â prompt : WHAT IF mermaids are the women thrown off ships because of the common belief sailors had about having a woman on the boat being bad luck? And mermans are boys thrown off the ship for various different reasons? As they sink to the bottom, legs tied together, they start to change slowly until they can breathe and use their tied up legs to swim - legs which eventually would turn into a fish tail. They drown sailors in revenge, luring them in by singing in their husky voices still stinging from the salt water they breathed.
â notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! Iâm reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, my new askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome đ
«Some of my men,» the Captainâs lewd voice spat, lifting your chin with the hilt of his sahrp sword, «are saying that you bring bad luck. What do you have to say about it?» the never-ending mumble of the pirates made you feel nauseous. You were able to stand on your feet just because you were roughly tied up to the mast, but exhaustion was starting to cloud your senses since you couldnât remember the last time you ate or even drank some water. Sailing in the middle of the sea during summer was dangerous, especially if you were forced to stay out in the open every day. You didnât answer to his question, both because the words were dying in your sore throat, and also because you silently vowed to yourself that youâd never spoke to the pirate crew that sinked the harmless ship you were travelling on and took you as a prisoner. You were the only one they decided to take as their prisoner, and contrarily to your expectations, they never did anything to you; they simply tied you up and left you there, probably waiting for you to die due to the unbearable heat.
If you had to be honest, you surprised yourself as well for your unexpected resistance; besides feeling incredibly weak, you never completely collapsed; instead, you lost count of how many days you spent with your body tied up to the shipâs mast. No one among the pirates had ever tried to approach you, theyâd settle for staring at you from a safe distance, nervous and uneasy gazes locked on your frame accompanied with low mumbles which you obviously couldnât hear.
Today, the sun was up high in the sky and surprisingly enough, they all decided to gather on the deck and suddenly acknowledge your presence, making you feel nervous but also making you feel as if your blood was boiling with sudden rage. You were tired, you were thirsty and hungry and on top of all, you were scared; you heard many rumours about pirates and all of them made you shiver in fear, so you didnât know what to expect now that they decided to act up on their status.
«I feel magnanimous today, I will let you choose.» the Captain slowly walked around the mast while playing with his sword, pondering about the suggestion of selling you to the first brothel theyâd eventually found next time they landed. «You can become a prostitute, or let the sharks eat you.» his victorious grin was contraposed to your cold glare. You knew that pirates never said the truth, and you also knew about the superstition they had; apparently, having a woman on a ship brought incredible bad luck. Thatâs why, with incredible struggle, you managed to gather all the saliva remaining in your mouth just to spit it on the Captainâs obnoxious face.
Needless to say, few moments later you were surrounded by the crew shouting animatedly while two pirates were tightly binding your legs together by tying a large rope around your ochre coloured gown while another one was making sure you stood still; not like you had any strength to fight back. You simply stood there, manhandled like a ragdoll, wondering how much time it would take for you to suffocate; your eyes glanced to the rock placed next to your feet and neatly tied at the rope around your lower body and judging by that, you were sure it wouldnât take too much.
Rage mixed with despair filled your senses as soon as they made you wear a pirate coat filled with smaller pebbles â too large for you, and way too heavy; despite the anger which was boiling in your veins instead of blood, you were too weak to react in any kind of way. You scoffed, silent tears threatening to escape your eyes, as you had to gather all the strength you had in order to bear the weight of a countless number of heavy pebbles hidden in the coatâs pockets; they really wanted you to drown as quickly as you could, and they werenât doing anything to hide it. The skin of your wrists burned as one of the pirates that was tying up your legs few minutes ago, was now tightly binding your wrists together, not caring about the few droplets of blood escaping your bruised and irritated skin.
«Any last words?» the Captain spat from behind your shoulders, and you tried to ignore the loud yells of simply throwing you at the sea. It would have been stupid to hide the fact that you were scared and you didnât want to die like this, but what could a young lady do on a pirate ship? You couldnât fight or ask for help, you were definitely helpless and still, the whirlwind of confused emotions in your heart slowly began to dissipate, clearing your mind on what your soul really longed for.
âRevenge,â was all you could think about; you didnât know how that silent hope could ever be fulfilled, but it was everything your soul asked for in that very moment; and so, all it took was a harsh push for you to fall into the cold and salty water, the weight of the rocks quickly bringing you towards the bottom of the sea.
Panic quickly flooded in your senses as you were fighting yourself and your resistance by trying to hold your breath as long as you could. Survival instinct had the best of you for a split second and when you noticed that no matter how much strength you used, you couldnât move your legs nor your arms, you panicked even more, bringing your tied up hands to your throat and holding it in a in a silent prayer for you to be able to resist more, even if your lungs were burning from the desire and the need to breathe and your chest was hurting for the same reason. You squeezed your eyes as your vision began to blur, thinking that that was it; it was really your last moment, when you felt a harsh and unexpected tug on your wrist; you quickly opened your eyes, just to see a young, handsome boy with blonde hair dancing in the water staring at you with worried, yet gentle eyes.
Despite the thought that flashed into your mind, you didnât have enough time to question him about how did he manage to swim so deep in the open sea without feeling the need to breathe and why was he shirtless, because said stranger quickly kissed your lips, his left hand holding your wrists while you could feel his right forearm pressing your body towards his by pushing on the middle of your back; you started to panic once again, when you feel him breathing some air into your mouth, giving you a little more time to breathe.
As quickly as he kissed you, he parted from your lips just to swim towards your feet, and as you saw a long indigo fishtail elegantly swaying in front of your eyes, you thought you were already dead and probably hallucinating while you were waiting for your next life. The blonde boyâs face appeared in your sight once again, and even if you felt incredibly lighter, the ropes around your legs were still preventing you from swimming.
«Take this off,» he said with a husky voice as he hugged your waist and gestured towards the pirate coat filled with heavy pebbles, and you were about to breathe out all the air he breathed into your mouth in shock because, how could he talk underwater?
He must have understood what you were talking about because he giggled, his eyes turning into two small crescent moons and dimples framing his smile. «Iâm a merman,» he simply explained, before turning serious once again, «and you really need to take this off, unless you want to sink.» you furrowed your brows, feeling your throat starting to burn once again; this time, the pain confused you.
Your throat burned, your lungs did too, but it was a little different from before; you watched as the boy quickly cut the ropes around your wrists with the tip of the golden harpoon he was carrying around and let him help you taking off the pirate coat. You watched at how quickly it sinked to the depths of the sea, thinking that it could have been you.
Only because you finally looked below you, you finally took notice of the length of the harpoon that the merman was holding in his right hand, and the fact that the rock anchored to your feet was now gone; you owed your life to this nameless boy which was still holding you tight to his body, and silently hoped he would help you resurface and look for a ship so that you could get some help going back home and somehow trying to rebuild your own life after this terrifying experience.
You felt a weird and uncommon stinging sensation on the skin of your neck but you didnât question it, instead, you gently tapped twice on the mermanâs collarbone, as to silently say that you were running out of oxygen once again, when he simply looked at you with a bright and excited smile.
«Itâs time! You can breathe, now!» he glanced at your neck, his expression was so gentle and cheerful that you almost believed him and tried to breathe underwater.
«What!?» you creaked, your voice rough and husky and your throat sore; realizing what you did, you immediately brought your hands to your mouth, looking at the boy â which was still giggling, his cheerful expression in stark contrast with your extremely alarmed eyes; if you werenât so scared, you would have payed attention to the fact that your voice actually came out clearly instead of being absorbed by the water.
«Look,» he said, turning his head to show you his neck; you were about to touch the small gills he had on his skin, when your hand blocked in mid-water as he spoke once again, «you have them, too.» your hand flew on your neck, to find out that he was indeed right. You had two gills on each side of your neck, they were small and easily hidden by your hair since they were positioned towards your nape, but it was all it took for you to trust the blond merman enough to try and inhale a deep breath.
«I can breathe,» you mumbled, your eyes wide and surprised, «I can breathe underwater!» you exclaimed, a mixture between excited and scared.
«Youâre turning into a mermaid.» the blonde boy said, and your eyes widened the size of the full moon. «Iâll explain to you later,» he quickly glanced to his left, «all you have to know for now is that your tail will soon look like mine,» he briefly detached from you just to quickly spin in front of you, before hugging you close once again. «and that we have to leave, the sharks are coming out for dinner.» he said, with a final wink. You let the boy â which introduced himself as Chris, take you away and teach you how to properly swim without moving your legs, contrarily to what you always did.
Two months later from your first encounter with Chris, you both were sitting on some rocks erupting from the sea, enjoying the warm morning breeze. The ochre dress you were wearing the day youâve been thrown overboard had now started to cling to the skin of your legs at the point it seemed to merge with it, and the ropes seemed to be as well. You glanced at Chris, leaning on the rocks while supporting his weight on his hands while his head was thrown back and his tail was slowly moving up and down with languid and repetitive movements, occasionally splashing some water around with his tail.
He looked incredibly handsome, and you couldnât help yourself but wonder why even when he saved you, he decided to stick around to the point where you spent every day together; Chris was gentle and careful, patiently teaching all he knew about living under the sea and you meticulously listened to him, managing to have fun as he helped you adapt to your new life.
Funny enough, you lived together into one of the countless underwater small villages populated by mermaids and mermen; some lived in the relict of old sinked ships, while others opted to live in underwater caves or houses built from corals. Needless to say, Chrisâ dramatic behaviour suggested him to live in the relict of the ship that threw him overboard, and he asked you to live with him.
«Itâs going to be easier for you to adapt to your new life.» he had said back then, not like you had any reason to refuse his offer. You didnât regret it not once, since Chris was the kind of friend you always wanted to have.
Your eyes curiously glanced at Chrisâ wrists, noticing that some indigo scales had grown there as well in a rather curious pattern; somehow, they seemed to recall a rope. Your hands acted pretty much by themselves; as your eyes travelled on Chrisâ long indigo fishtail, your fingers caressed one of the soft, pink flesh spots between its scales.
«I canât wait for my tail to be complete,» Chrisâ hoarse voice said, and your eyes met his; he offered you a gentle smile, his head tilted to the side as he remained in the same position as he was before, unbothered with your touch â on the contrary, enjoying it.
«Nevertheless,» you mumbled, secretly wondering if your throat will ever stop burning, «Itâs beautiful.» your eyes focused again on the tailâs scales which thanks to the sun, seemed to shine in a somehow greenish colour which made it seem even more enchanting.
«Iâm sure yours will be even more beautiful than mine.» Chris smiled, reaching out to hold your hand right above his fish tail. You blushed, adverting your gaze and feeling incredibly uglier compared to him: you were in the middle of your metamorphosis, therefore your legs were still slowly turning into a fishtail, and your dress was ripped and clinging to different part of your skin as a second, unwanted skin; Chris explained that all it took were six months, and then, you would have been completely ultimate your metamorphosis into a mermaid.
«Chris,» you mumbled, briefly thought about all the times, as a kid, you stared at the sea wondering if all the legends about mermaids were true, just to find yourself slowly becoming one. Chris hummed, his blonde hair now almost completely dry. «What happened?»
«Iâm not really sure, either.» he confessed, «some say that itâs our desire of revenge that triggers the metamorphosis. All we know is that one moment weâre sinking towards the bottom of the sea, and the other weâre sinking ships.» he chuckled, before adding a quick
«Iâll show you, sooner or later.» in answer to your confused face; you simply nodded at him, before asking him how did he become a merman since you were driven by the desire to know him better but also, to hear his mesmerizing voice for as long as you could. Chris never let go of your hand, playing with your fingers as he told you about how he left his village in order to become a sailor, just to be thrown off the ship two years later with the false accusation of being a thief.
«What saddens me, is that I never got the chance to confess to my beloved one.» his voice said, looking at you with eyes as warm as the sun itself. Even if you felt a strange sensation of jealousy creeping into your soul, you decided to ignore it. Chris was handsome, funny, caring and gentle; it was obvious for him to have someone he loved.
«Iâm sure she would have said yes.» you sighed, wishing for a second to be the one who held his heart even now that his life had completely changed for good.
«She didnât even knew I existed» Chris chuckled, shaking his head, «She was the only daughter of a famous merchant in our village, and I was the blacksmithâs son.» you listened how Chris kept looking at you with a mischievous gaze as he provided you the description of a girl which not only looked exactly like you, but was also living the replica of your life. «I gave her a pin once, when we were kids.» the colour drained from your cheeks, remembering the scene of a young blonde kid handing you a white orchid pin during a festival, when you were around seven years old. Back then, the boy claimed it brought good luck, and that you were the prettiest among all the young girls so it had to be yours; since that day, you wore it every day. «It was a white orchid. She always wore it, even if she probably forgot about me during the years.» your heart was hammering into your chest, and with slow and calculated words you asked him the only question which really mattered, the only one able to dissolve your doubts; you took a deep breath, and asked him where he was from.
«Velia.» he answered, and suddenly, you were in a loss of words. Chris not only came from your village, but also was the little boy that many years ago had provided you with your lucky pin, the same one that the Pirates had snatched away from your dress.
«Iâll give you an even better present.» Chris smiled, and you answered with a shy nod.
Chrisâ unexpected confession made a whirlwind of emotion erupt in your soul, you never imagined that he silently had a crush on you for all these years but deep down, you were sure that you could return his feelings with the same intensity.
Both of you had all your lives in front of you, and you knew that Chris had so much love to give and he deserved just as much, maybe even more.
That morning was the most the two of you have talked. The salty water you breathed while drowning still burned your lungs and you found it sometimes difficult to talk; this is why the two of you created a personal language mostly composed by hand gestures, which allowed the two of you to communicate and have infinite conversations without feeling your throat sting.
A comfortable silence fell around the two of you, and Chris never stopped gently running his fingertips on your still bruised wrists, the action making you feel as butterflies were soaring in your stomach; if Chris ever saw your skin erupt into goosebumps anywhere his fingers touched, he never mentioned it.
Therefore, you and Chris spent your morning on the rocks when, as soon as you heard another mermaidâs chant, he quickly lead you away.
«Itâs not time, yet.» he said, and you trusted him without questioning him further.
One year had quickly gone by and both you and Chris had completed your metamorphosis; your tail was dark orange, its scales would show golden reflections according to the light, dark orange scales also grew instead of the bruises on your wrists and, no matter what you said, Chris would continuously shower you with compliments which you immediately returned. You and Chris managed to make many friends â some that already completed the metamorphosis and some you just recently rescued from drowning, but still, Chris was the only one you spent the most time with; over the time, you naturally became a couple, even if nothing special changed in your relationship dynamics.
The two of you had always spent your time together so the only thing that you added to the mix were the kisses and more intimate touches. Sometimes, youâd lose yourself in his warm brown eyes, thinking how much you loved him and how you owed him your life.
You knew that you would have changed even without Chrisâ help, but his presence helped you to face the metamorphosis with a little more courage â which you probably wouldnât have had, if you were to face this all alone.
«Remember that excellent present I was talking about back then?» Chris asked with a wide grin and you nodded, knitting your brows in confusion, «Come with me.» Chris said, as he led you to the surface while holding your hand; you realized quickly that it must have been a special occasion, since he used his voice to express his thoughts.
Both of you keep the verbal exchanges at minimum; since you found out that your throat would never stop burning.
«Itâs the salt water we breathed while drowning,» Changbin â a merman which turned many years before the two of you did, quietly explained to you few months ago. On his wrists, he had dark blue â almost black, scales matching the colour of his long tail, but unlike you and Chris, his scales enveloped his arms and part of his torso almost in a spiral way, making you wonder about how painful and horrible his experience must have been, «It will never stop stinging, reason why our revenge will always be as brutal as our death.»
You followed Chris as he diligently sat on some rocks erupting from the sea, gesturing towards a small group of mermaid sitting on the shores far away from you; some had their tail partially immersed to the water, while some were completely resting on the hard surfaces of the rocks. They all seemed to be waiting, but you still didnât know what for, since the horizon was completely clear. As the mermaids saw you and Chris, you all waved at each other since you were friends; you were surprised to learn how everyone â unlike the human world, was genuinely sweet towards each other.
«I hope youâll like it.» Chrisâ lips whispering against your ear made it appear as his husky voice was dripping honey, and as your eyes saw a familiar Pirate flag on top of a ship, which was slowly coming your way, you froze up in fear, tightly holding to Chrisâ hand; he quickly hugged you close to his body in the silent attempt to reassure you. You didnât understand why Chris would have thought that seeing the ship of the people who threw you overboard could ever be considered a gift, when suddenly, the mermaids started singing.
It was a mesmerizing chant, and you immediately understood why it drove men insane by slowly hypnotizing them to the point they lose their will; as a mermaid, you knew the pain of using your voice and so, you realized what Changbin meant all those months ago. Part of each mermaidâs soul was filled with the desire of revenge towards the ones who choose such a brutal and despicable death for them, and so, no matter how their throat burned in the process, their husky voices would sing marvellous and hypnotic songs just to lure them in the water in a deadly trap.
From the distance, you saw how the pirates started to throw themselves off the ship, and thatâs when Chris signalled you that it was time to get underwater once again; you were completely new to this, since Chris always led you away as soon as youâd hear a mermaid chant, but no matter what, you could have never imagine what you were about to see.
Underwater, there were at least a hundred mermaids and mermen skilfully armed with harpoons or smaller knives, and as soon as the pirates fell in the water, theyâd swim quickly, plunging themselves at the pirates with the precise goal to kill them in the most brutal way they could, so that they wouldnât have any occasion to trigger the metamorphosis and turn into mermen.
Chris kept holding you tight as the two of you assisted to that massacre, close enough to catch every detail but far enough not to get involved with the pool of blood that was quickly expanding in the water; your eyes casually caught the action that made your heart feel at ease once and for all. Changbin and Hyunjin â whose tail was probably the prettiest since it was a pastel light blue, were respectively sinking an harpoon and a short blade into the Captainâs chest, and as you saw him writhing in pain as he breathed out all the oxygen he had stored in his mouth, you breathed a content sigh, your silent wish for revenge was now fulfilled thanks to your friends.
As soon as the group made sure that no one from the pirate crew managed to survive, you all quickly swam away, knowing that sharks had a very sharp sense of smell and no one wanted to get in their way in the middle of a hunt.
Once you were back home Chris kissed you, the unexpected sensation of such an intimate gesture making you smile against his lips, pulling him even further to your body and swirling once or twice in the middle of water as you did so. Despite the salty water that constantly surrounded the both of you, Chrisâ lips held an inexplicably different flavour.
His kisses tasted like home, like you finally found peace.
The pirates hat threw you overboard had met their terrible fate, the same as many other men, and you were happy with the thought that they wouldnât be able to harm anyone else.
Chris held you tight, placing his forehead against yours.
«I love you,» he said for the first time, ignoring the pain in his lungs.
«I love you too,» you mumbled right back, gently placing your hands on his cheeks, as the end of your tails swirled around each otherâs.
all works © lettersfromaphrodite
Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories.
I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.
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Tagged by the lovely @aloveforjaneausten :)
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
103. (mind you, some of these are crossposted on ff.net, but many of my earlier fics were only ever published there, so I'd say that actual number of fics I've ever written is closer to 200.)
2. What's your total A03 words count?
742.871
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Currently? Pretty much only SaB (I usually only write for one fandom at a time). Over the course of my fic career? I've written for maybe about a dozen, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Avatar: the Last Airbender being maybe the most prominent ones.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Terrible, Beautiful, Unsaid Things (2258), Through Wide, Grey Eyes (1381), The First Star in the Black Velvet Night (1182), A Little Star in the Night (1103), and The Unabridged and Annotated Diary of Mrs. Alina Morozova (874).
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
On AO3, rarely - since the system counts your replies as a comment, inflating the numbers, it feels almost like cheating/messing with the stats, so basically I only ever reply if I get a direct question there. But I always respond here, my askbox is open, and I'm semi-present on twitter and blue sky.
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Not gonna give actual titles here (I'd have to look them up), but I have used writing as a therapy tool to process losing people close to me. A family friend (almost like an uncle to me) who died suddenly in 2008, and my grandma, after a couple of months long illness, in 2015. Those two stories are, to me, at least, the angstiest things I've ever written.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Depends whom you ask, I think? :D But my fics usually have a happy ending.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not really. I've recieved hate personally for the couples I ship, and some... puzzling comments over the years. (One I remember clearly for some reason: I wrote a two-parter story about (mostly) Azula post-atla, playing with her fractured mind, going into a tentative improvement. There was an early scene where she basically hallucinated her childhood and saw Zuko as the younger sibling - her unconscious desire to shift the power relations. Then of course I had a reader who felt the need to school me on how I don't know the canon well enough, because Zuko is the older sibling.)
9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?
I do, the very vanilla kind (one guy, one chick, nothing too kinky), but in a sensual, kinda poetic way (I hope)
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Once (I mean: back in high school) I started writing a Harry Potter/Wicked crossover. Thankfully, it never saw the light of day (it was also written in Hungarian, if I remember well). I think that might have been the only crossover I've ever written.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I've gotten some permission requests for translations over the years, but I've never seen any of the finished products.
13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
Kinda? I once wrote a one-shot with a steamy-leaning ending, and @abedsmessedupmeta wrote a smutty continuation for it. Does that count?
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
Depends when you ask...
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
BWHAHAHA. All of them (no, I'll finish them, really).
Next question, please...
16. What are your writing strengths?
I'd like to say emotional descriptions, dialogue, and humor. And apparently smut?
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Writing complex movement (e.g. fight scenes), longer narratives
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
It's a tricky thing, because you have to integrate it into the text seamlessly, in a way that doesn't break the rhythm of the text. A Discovery of Witches does a pretty good job of it, I think. Also, bilingual (poliglot) characters habitually using certain words from their native language, especially if they are well-integrated in fandom (see: Russian terms of endearment for Aleksander) can be a handy stylistic tool.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Harry Potter. I was 12, didn't speak English well enough yet, and it was basically the only fandom with proper fanfic presence in Hungarian. A real gateway drug.
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
I wanna say Terrible, Beautiful, Unsaid Things, because while I honestly think that it turned out really well, it was my big comeback after about 1,5 years of inactivity, and I never dared to hope that it would become such a hit.
Tagging @stargazerdaisy @polikszena @menatiera @cpt-winniethepooh
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you said you want to tell the trans women in your life that you love them but you don't know how and they have walls and stuff.
i think the best thing is to meet people where they are.
if they're uncomfortable with the word love, use words like care, and if they're uncomfortable with words like that, then love them with actions, like being there for them when they need someone, show them love in the ways they're comfortable.
i think asking for peoples' boundaries when it comes to stuff like that is also rlly important. like i think being asked my boundaries with regards to being asked what is okay to say with me is best, but also like, at least for me, someone saying something to me then apologising and backing off when i say im uncomfortable with that, and apologising is like. almost as good.
it can be a little hard to love people bc we all have different needs, and it takes a lot of practice and i'm still not amazing at it but like. another part of it is just being okay with making a mistake, if that's a barrier.
i have the barrier a lot where i'm afraid to make people uncomfortable so i just would never do anything, but accepting that to be around people is to accidentally make people uncomfortable, but recognising that making someone uncomfortable is okay, as long as you are able to respect their comfort if they make their boundaries clear to you, yk?
respecting ppl's boundaries after they set them is another great way to show someone love. getting ur boundaries crossed and not even receiving an apology, and instead like. a sarcastic response or something is rlly common, so like making it clear you're willing to respect ppl's needs is a Great Way to make ppl feel safe around you. :)
i hope you're able to do what you want! and know that it's okay if it's hard, it's hard for everyone, and also i love u. you don't know me and i don't know u, but your desire to show ppl love like this is like. relatable and desirable and i think you deserve a little more love in ur life.
âșïž have a good day!
this ask has been the coolest ask ive gotten in like years, so anon , thank you for your time in sending this to me! it encourages me to show how i love people in more nuanced and patient ways. i always feel more inclined to say literally nothing at all, or think space is the best response to well. just about anything! ive had alot of people irl and online take my meaningful attempts of connection as an offense and while im totally okay with apologizing and trying again in a way that they want, i think thats ALOT easier to do in real life for me than over the web. i guess thats kind of the main issue of it all. i dont get many chances to express myself in person(im always 200% better at that shit in person) with the homies due to distance + university, but i mean i could always just try to pester them more on discord to make up for the inability to visit. I love you too, my good anon, and your ask was a delightful thing to get a notification for.
especially since its been so long since i opened up my askbox again XD
anyways yeah have a totally fucking tubular day, my dude!
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I loved your last story, where Rio has the s/o with anxiety issues. Rio is such a teddy bear! Being someone with anxiety problems myself, i was wondering if maybe you could write a similar story with Samatoki? He is my absolute favorite. My kinnie as some would say. Thank you so much in advance!
ïœĄïŸïœ„ Samatoki with an anxious S/O - Headcanons  ïœĄïŸ
â© Warning: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks.
From the same request: Samatoki / Rio
â Authorâs notes: hey anon, thanks for requesting! I am very sorry for the delay, I'm just really busy with school :,) If you ever need somebody to talk, my askbox is open! âĄ
âą Telling your boyfriend about your panic attacks certainly wasnât a simple task.
âą You had been dating Samatoki for a while and though you did share many things about yourself with him, anxiety was still a topic you didnât know how to approach.
âą Despite not being the most observant, Samatoki cared about you very much â enough to make him notice your anxious tendencies before you told him anything.
âą Whenever he shouted, complaining about some ordinary issue, youâd get nervous, almost panicking.
âą And if you had to face a challenging situation, your hands would always start trembling.
âą When he realized this, Samatoki stopped shouting around you and started asking if you needed his help when your anxiety attacked â but you always told him you were fine and there was no need for his concern.
âą Then one day, he received an unexpected call from you.
(More under the cut)
âą It was 6 pm. By this time, you were usually leaving your job, so something mightâve happened there.
âą When he picked up the phone and said his usual âHey, babeâ, there was a moment of silence before he heard you crying.
âą Not only crying, but also desperately breathing.
âą Worried, Samatoki focused on trying to calm you down:
âą âHey babe, itâs alright. Iâm here talking to you. You can tell me whatâs wrong later. Letâs just take some deep breaths for now.â
âą Through the phone call, you two breathed deeply, counting until ten before exhaling slowly.
âą âNow, follow the 3-3-3 rule. Name three things you seeâŠâ
âą You did as he told, following all his instructions. They took your mind off for a moment, distracting it from all the previous tension.
âą You started feeling calmer.
âą It was time to tell your boyfriend about it.
âą You felt his concern as you told him that you had a panic attack due to a stressful day at work â that being the reason why you felt the need to call him for help.
âą You also told him that you had been dealing with anxiety for a while but never felt the courage to tell him so.
âą Samatoki listened carefully to every single word.
âą He himself had a hard time expressing his own weakness, so he definitely understood why you only told him now.
âą Ever since that day, Samatoki would always reassure you when you felt anxious, even if it was through the phone.
âą He would frequently use the 3-3-3 rule since it was effective in making you forget about what triggered your anxiety.
âą If he was by your side, heâd hug you and caress your back gently.
âą When you two got home after those bad days, your boyfriend would give you a shoulder massage to help you wind down.
âą Samatoki also liked to cuddle and watch ASMR videos with you to help you both sleep and relax before a challenging day.
âą Samatoki wanted you to be able to enjoy life with him as much as he enjoyed being with you.
âą His efforts to help you deal with anxiety only showed how much he cared about you â and that made you love Samatoki even more.
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late night experiences | g.w.
Pairing:Â George Weasley x female reader.
Summary:Â learning new things is always better when it is done with someone else.
Word Count:Â 2,7k.
Warnings: smut! Masturbation, mentions of innocence kink.
Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.
A/N: please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention â€
Masterlist!
Your last year at Hogwarts rushed into your life without warning â and so did your sexual hormones. You swore to Merlin you could feel them tingling all over your body whenever you solely looked at George Weasley, your majestic boyfriend. And apparently, he felt the same way towards you. Wondering the reason behind it all, you were quick to blame the fact that the two of you had just turned 18.
You had been together for a little while now: around nine months or so. But nothing had ever happened, and you were not quite sure why. You two had, supposedly, everything needed: steamy make-out sessions, wandering hands, lustful thoughts, privacy, and all that jazz. Yet, there you were: ground zero.
However, things were about to change even though you still were unconscious about it.
âPsst!â Your favorite quill stopped scribbling your Herbology notes. âOi!â Your eyes gazed at the direction from which came the voice only to realize it was one of your classmates, Angelina Johnson. âIâve discovered something last night which I thought you might be interested in.â A mischievous smirk painted her lips as you leaned in closer, already feeling eager to listen to whatever she had to say. She was one of those people who made anyone pay attention to them whenever they said something.
Her hushed whispers filled the existing silence between you two in the Study Area once more. âThe boys were talking in our common room last night, and rumor has it George canât keep his hands off of his cock whenever he thinks of you.â
Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet giggled like little girls when she finally finished her speech. You could feel your cheeks getting embraced by a deep and violent warmness. Uh-oh.
Your mind suddenly produced images by itself: Georgeâs chest going up and down quickly as he moaned under his breath. He had his long and slender fingers wrapped around his dick and, sweet Merlin, he was big. Big and thick and veiny. His eyelashes fluttered as his hand pumped up and down a few times, precum leaking from his tip.
Heaven probably looked like that. What a lovely sight. You would give anything to actually see the great George Weasley in such a position. But, again: ground zero.
Still, the possibility of him pleasuring himself at the thought of you seemed to awake something new inside your chest and offer you a novel tingling sensation. You felt a burning flame in your loins, and it was almost as if your entire body were on fire.
You wanted him to jerk off thinking of you. You wanted his hands to get dirty from his own seed because of you.
You gulped. Snapping fingers brought you back to reality. âGirl, itâs high time you gave that poor lad some love, you know.â
The next few days felt slow and eternal. George Weasley and George Weasleyâs thick dick were the only things occupying your mind. Of course, you had fantasized about him before; but it had never been that vivid. Things are always better when they are real, after all.
And you wanted to do something about it. Your soul ached for him to share his hidden and erotic reality with you. Your flesh longed to be painfully close to his. Your body and your hands desired to tease him and give him something to be unbearably hard over. You obviously would not feel in peace until you got what you wanted.
That is why the suggestion of a late night meeting in the Prefectâs Bathroom came to life. It was discussed during another of your studying session with Angelina, Alicia and Katie, being first brought on by Angelina, of course. That girl had many wild cards up her sleeve.
âI happen to know the password. Got it from a Slytherin guy, after giving him a few galleons.â
âAnd a blowjob, too.â Alicia responded with her eyebrows raised and a mischievous grin hanging on her lips.
As the three other girls laughed carelessly, seeming to be extremely relaxed and confident to talk about such a topic, you chewed on your bottom lip. Jittery feelings bubbled up within your veins while concern clouded your mind. You had a severe lack of inexperience when it came down to anything sexual.
Your temporary anxiety was sharply noticed by Katie, who positioned her hand over yours in a comforting act. Her fingers soothed your skin, her next words slipping out of her lips as motherly advice.
âDonât feel pressured to do anything, honestly. George is one of the most understanding people I have ever met. But I think a little bit of intimacy would work wonders on you, both of you.â Her grip on your hand became a bit tighter, and her warmth was incredibly pacifying. âYou know, just suggest going to the Prefectâs Bathroom tomorrow night. He will surely accept, once he is heads over heels for you. Get in the warm, bubbly water. Kiss him, if you feel comfortable enough for that. And just see where it goes.â
Your other two friends nodded, assuring you everything was alright and that you could always count on them for support and advice. The conversation went on for a little longer, they sharing intimacy tips and encouraging you.
Luckily enough, the next morning was one that you had classes with George. You brought on the subject in the end of the lesson, while he gathered his material quietly.
His lips opened up in a bright smile in the moment you appeared in front of him, but his expression was soon destroyed by your visible tensed posture.
âHey, gorgeous. Are you alright?â
You sighed shortly, trying to relieve some of your internalized insecurities. The suggestion came out of your lips in a mere murmur, but he was smart enough to grasp onto all of your words. His eyes noticed your dodging gaze and your fidgeting fingers, playing with the hem of your tie. You looked absolutely adorable to him.
âSee you later tonight, then. Prefectâs Bathroom, 12AM sharp. I wonât be late.â
The rest of the day felt like an eternity. Perhaps, it was the uncertainty of it all, given that there was no way to predict how the scenario would take place later on. But the time for your meeting agonizingly came, and you were forced to leave your dormitory.
The weather was unpleasantly hot, and it was hard for you to tell whether it was due to the time of the year you were going through, or to the fact you were walking towards your own doom.
You had been curious and tempted to get to know his darker and more lustful façade but, at the same time, you were ashamed of how much you craved him despite being your first time feeling anything like that. Those same novel tingles from before returned to your loins as your made your way to the fifth floor.
Underneath your favorite carmine red pleated skirt and a muggle band T-shirt, you wore a set of lingerie that had not received much attention when previously picked out, which was a simple white bra paired with white panties, covered in tiny pink strawberries. When you were about to reach your destination, you came down to the realization of how childish your underwear looked. You inhaled sharply, concluding you had ruined everything.
Eventually, you and George met, and entered the bathroom hand in hand.
Although you had heard of its wonderful interiors, seeing everything with your own eyes for the first time made you gasp. Your gaze traveled through the place, and you wished to engrave every detail in your heart. The white marble grandness awoke a sense of greatness and admiration inside you, and you almost fell to your knees right then and there.
A tad of small talk was exchanged between you and your boyfriend, until he approached you at last. His big hands cupped your delicate face, and he leaned down to kiss you.
His lips were so terribly gentle that they sent butterflies to your stomach. He showed no shyness in the second his hands roamed down your body and found your back, giving your ass a light squeeze. Unable to control yourself, you moaned and pressed your body against his.
A steamy make out moment was held between the two of you until the moment for the truth hovered over your heads. He rested his forehead against yours, and looked at you with loving eyes as his thumb ran over your lips.
âTell me why we are here, darling.â
âItâs just thatâŠThere had been this rumor, you know?â A shy chuckle escaped your lips, and you closed your eyes, trying to block out all the filthy images suddenly appearing in your mind. âPeople have been saying that you jerk off thinking about me. But Iâm not sure if itâs true or not, because we have ââ
âIt is true.â The coolness in his voice caught you off guard, and you blinked at him in a mixture of shock and self-induced accomplishment: your boyfriend touched himself at the thought of you.
Your eyelashes fluttered until your eyes were shut, and a sigh escaped your lips. Your mind knew no restrains at that moment, and the images you had been blocking out came to life all at once, violently crashing against your insides, almost like agitated waves at a beach.
Silence embraced the two of you again, but neither of you felt bothered by it. You took your time to let the sinful images sink in, and he took his time to study your face. You had been clearly affected by the truth he had just spilled out, and he secretly enjoyed such thing. He could read you like the palm of his hand, and he knew you were thinking about him with his dick out.
As he breathed heavily, fearing air would forever leave his lungs after what he was about to do, he prepared himself for what was about to come. His thumb ran over your slightly swollen lips but, this time, he parted them with a gentle tug on your lower lip. George timidly shoved his thumb into your mouth, and you, with your eyes still closed, took all of it.
Your tongue swirl against his finger, the feeling of your saliva dancing against his skin sending electrical waves down his spine. You continued on sucking him until your cheeks finally hollowed, and he pulled his finger out with a low âpopâ noise.
You opened your eyes in a deep frustration, but he could no longer take it. His cock was hard inside his trousers and it battled for its freedom. He breathed unsteadily and with a bit of difficulty, his mind starting to wonder how your lips would feel wrapped around his tip.
The realization that you two had never done anything before hit him hard, and he felt himself twitching while precum started wetting the fabric of his underwear.
Would it be selfish of him to think he would probably be the first one ever to taste your cunt? The first one to penetrate you, the first one to end your innocence for eternity, the first one to feel your walls clenching around him, the first one to make you cum.
George was forced to step back and groan in bitterness. He really wanted to fuck you, but he would never disrespect you or your limits. Plus, on top of that, he really did not know how he could express his urges.
âS-Sorry, darling. I-I-I donât know whatâd gotten into me, I guess I just lo-â
âCan you show me how you touch yourself?â
The question hung on air for one or two moments. You could not believe what you had just said. You were drunk on a new dizzying and exciting sensation, one that left your panties secretly wet and your clit throbbing, and one which made you ask your boyfriend to masturbate right in front of you.
So he did it. Apparently, Katie was right: George Weasley would gladly accept anything you asked him.
After the enormous bathtub had been filled with water and bubbles, he undressed and you lost all of your senses for a bit.
His fair skin carried grand amounts of both freckles and small scars. His entire silhouette was outlined by groups of yet developing muscles, but each one of them caused more wetness to pool in your strawberries ridiculously covered panties. George was so tall, his shoulders were so broad, and his dick was indeed so big.
When all of his being finally became bare in front of you, you rubbed your thighs together, the need for friction creeping inside your body for the first time ever.
You stood still exactly where you were, but he made his way to the tub, sitting on the edge of the white porcelain. He lowered his dark eyes to his throbbing member and his touch caused a relieved sigh to leave his lips. His hand moved up and down a few times until he looked at you again.
There was something different on his face. His eyelids seemed to be a tad heavier, and the sounds slipping out of his slightly parted lips were the most delicious thing you had ever heard.
George Weasley was jerking off right in front of you. He was moaning only for you. And you hoped he would cum just for you, too.
As the minutes slowly went by the two of you, you watched him quietly. However, it was impossible for him to keep quiet. By now, his moans were loud and shameless. He whispered your name every now and then, the thought of you bouncing up and down his dick providing all the fuel he needed to orgasm only for you.
That was entirely new for you. You felt so dirty, so sinful, so misbehaved, but you were living for it. You wanted more of him, and you also wanted to give George more of you. And that was exactly the reason why you said your next sentence out loud.
âCan I touch myself?â
His ears convinced himself that he had heard it incorrectly, but the way your fingers tugged on your T-shirt, and your thighs rubbed together, he knew he was not mistaken. A new rush of pleasure ran through his veins and he pumped his hand faster. Unable to form coherent sentences, he mumbled something along the lines of âpleaseâ and nodded vehemently.
In the blink of an eye, both of your bodies were unclothed and both of you played with your intimacies. Georgeâs right hand applied all the pressure that could possibly resemble your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, and your fingers helped the squelching sounds coming from your wetness to echo in the bathroom. You had never thought that so many lustful sensations could occupy your body all at once and, yet, there you were: masturbating at the sight of your boyfriend doing the exact same.
By now, you also had problems breathing and the tight knot inside your body screamed for a break. You pulled your hand away from your dripping cunt, but you remained connect to your womanhood by a very thin and almost invisible string of your juices.
George obviously noticed that tiny detail and it was too much for him. He announced he was close and, soon enough, his skin was stained by the pleasure you had given him. His eyes were closed as he felt his heartbeat increasing and the images of you still haunting his mind.
The way he accepted and let his orgasm work on his body made you move your hand against your clit faster and you followed him in a matter of seconds. Your body trembled and you could not stop whining.
You had never experienced something so astonishingly sensational.
Your pants filled the bathroom for a little while before his body finally slipped into the still warm water. The comfort offered by the setting relaxed his existence and he weakly called and asked you to join him, which you happily agreed with.
He touched your hips and pulled you closer, placing your body against his chest. With his lips pressed against your temple, he whispered a series of âthank youâ and âyou are the prettiest girl Iâve ever seenâ.
However, his final words changed the mood completely and you hated him for it.
âThatâs a nice pair of panties, by the way.â
Tag list! â€ïžÂ @efyraâ @writingsomewrongsâ @kellsslutâ @pineapplesandpinasâ @fiction-is-the-new-realityâ @hufflepuff5972â @amourtentiaaâ @emmaevâ @asthmaxâ @anchoeriticâ @eunoia-kthâ
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youâre someone i just want around: I
âAnd I can't wait another minute
I can't take the look she's giving
Your body rocking, keep me up all night
One in a million, my lucky strike.â
â Lucky Strike, Maroon 5
A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3â and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and weâre just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :â) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated đ we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!
andreaâs askbox : leylaâs askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andreaâs masterlist : leylaâs masterlist :Â
word count: 17.2k
content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality
///
Harry hates clubs.Â
In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesnât think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours.Â
According to his wise, humble opinion, itâs absolutely fucking petrifiying. Heâd rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit.Â
Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.
Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he canât deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife.Â
Fitting into these aspects arenât something he had learned willingly; he didnât really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood thatâ how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor?Â
Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harryâs just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter.Â
He really shouldnât be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. Itâs practical, itâs fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained). Â
So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; heâd put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation.Â
Itâs not like itâs hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, whichâ if heâs being brutally honestâ isnât that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think theyâre entitled to a womanâs attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isnât the way to convince her to come home with you.Â
Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now.Â
The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and itâs Harryâs job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department.Â
Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. Heâs clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. Itâs a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WEâRE IN THE SHIT.Â
Harry loves the irony of the articleâ the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starterâ people almost always comment on itâ and thatâs exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isnât just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesnât enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when itâs this cute?
On top of his graphic top, heâs wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.
Harryâs shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. Theyâre a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. Theyâre plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.
Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), heâs sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digitsâ his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame.Â
His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasnât taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his motherâs, and it was her favorite.Â
Harryâs attire is something heâs immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldnât give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...
He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, âLadies.â
He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving.Â
The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but itâs important: Donât seduce, romanticize.Â
Anyoneâ even inebriated idiotsâ can try and seduce a woman. And if sheâs had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results.Â
Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; itâs just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they donât feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because heâs showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if heâs that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, theyâre usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well.Â
Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But heâs fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. Heâs great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and heâs going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. Heâs so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. Heâs more than happy to keep it.Â
All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static.Â
They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the clubâs name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire.Â
Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the manâs obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does.Â
Heâs the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but heâs the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. Heâs the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, heâs so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work.Â
âGood evening.â Harryâs deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. âHow you doing tonight, mate?â
The guardâ whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a humanâ looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. âIâm good.â
âWell, thatâs great to hear!â The curly-haired boyâs simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. âHavenât had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?â
Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harryâs cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. âNot yet.â
âIâm guessing youâd like to keep it that way.â The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. âTotally understandable.âÂ
âGood.â The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. âSo Iâm guessing that means you know you have to get in line.âÂ
Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd.Â
He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. âI donât know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, itâll be last call.â
âMaybe.â Brock shrugs offhandedly. âIt is what it is, right? Fairâs fair.â
âYeah, youâre right.â Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. âBut since youâve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? Weâd greatly appreciate it.âÂ
The bouncerâs face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. âI donât think so.âÂ
The vampireâs shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. âAre you sure? Itâs just five of us. Donât think weâll do much damage. Right, guys?â
Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering.Â
âWe promise we wonât cause any problems.â Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. âPinky swear.âÂ
The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own. Â
Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. âRight, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.âÂ
âThat happened one time!â Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. âOnce! And it was only âcause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.â
The Irish vampireâs accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. âFuckinâ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.âÂ
âAs if youâre not one already.â Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niallâs vengeful fist.Â
Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. âSee? You can let us through. We pinky swore.âÂ
The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. âIâm not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.â
Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. âGuess Iâll just have to go the other route, then.â
The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though thereâs a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move.Â
âWhat the fâ?â
Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the workerâs face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harryâs heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of humanâs fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harryâs fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, heâs learned; it gives bloodâs usual metallic flavor a certain twang.
But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isnât the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt.Â
All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. Itâs Harryâs job to break that dam.Â
Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. âYouâre going to let us through, and youâre going to forget we ever met.â
The guardâs pupils enlarge to match Harryâs, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monsterâs magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the delivererâs will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the groupâs path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance.Â
The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second heâd walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. âThank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.âÂ
Harryâs friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle. Â
The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonightâs hunting ground.Â
The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harryâs brows jump in mild surpriseâ itâs not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer.Â
The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. Itâs the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because heâs well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck theyâre doing, let alone recall it the following day. Itâs comically ironic, really.Â
But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized.Â
Heâs in the process of choosing between a Manhattanâ it isnât a very complicated drink, which is exactly what heâs looking for; something simple and strongâ or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.
Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.
âYouâre a real dick, yâknow that?âÂ
The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. âWow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if youâre gonna talk shit.â
Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesnât seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. Heâs quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. Heâs always been that way for as long as Harry could remember.Â
When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more.Â
Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, heâd secured a spot as the black market clubâs leading vocalist. He wasnât anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitchâs guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in.Â
From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional.Â
Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitchâs timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitchâs ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.
Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each otherâs true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since.Â
Despite his friendâs withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how heâd just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when itâs at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his pathâ itâs one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. Heâs probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesnât receive from anyone else.
Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. Itâs unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.  Â
Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitchâs digs. Theyâre normally expressed as a joke and theyâve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.
âHow was I dick?â Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. âIf anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!â
Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harryâs had. âYou and Xander didnât have to mock him that way.âÂ
Thatâs another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duoâ he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least.Â
The young man returns his companionâs snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. âWas just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.â
Mitch scowls scoldingly. âIt was unnecessary and mean.â
Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. âWe were just taking the piss, and itâs not like heâs gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.âÂ
âStop being such an arrogant little shit.âÂ
âOr what?â Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. âAre you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?âÂ
Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. âFuck off.âÂ
âIâm being serious!â Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. âGo fucking in, if you want.â
He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. âI like it rough, baby. Why donât you bend me over this railing and show me whoâs boss?â
Itâs Mitchâs turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. âI think Iâll pass.âÂ
Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. âYouâre rejecting me that quick? Whoâs the asshole now, huh?â
His best friend doesnât even blink. âStill you.â
âI can live with that. And itâs probably a good call on your end to give up all this,â he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, âbecause I donât think Sarah wouldnât be too happy about it.âÂ
Mitchâs humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. âVery funny.âÂ
âI know, right? Iâm a proper comedian.â Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. âWhere is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?âÂ
Sarah and Mitch...Theyâre a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, âoccasionalâ meaning âonce every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.âÂ
Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. Sheâs been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident.Â
Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the personâs memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one.Â
Sarahâs death happened the day after sheâd spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second sheâd opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastropheâ the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger.Â
Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so itâs not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesnât care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges.Â
Harryâs crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanityâ to be as kind and nondestructive as possibleâ but if Harryâs being honest, most of their friends only play along because itâs convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection.Â
Keeping low was for the best, and when things get roughâ whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing throughâ they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarahâs passing so quickly.Â
All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sortâ you canât die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. Itâs always better to just avoid it all together.Â
Thatâs why this is so habitual to joke about; itâs a way to deflect.Â
Mitch sighs grandly, Harryâs question echoing in his skull. âI donât know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Havenât heard from her since.â
Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than heâd imagined. He doesnât want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when theyâre supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now.Â
âI guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.â He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampireâs hip with his own. âSheâs ghosting you. Get it? Itâs funny âcause sheâs actually dead.âÂ
Mitchâs sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. âI fucking hate you.â
âAll the people who were ahead of their time were hated.â Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. âCopernicus, Socrates, Einsteinâ all of them were hated for being geniuses. Iâm willing to carry that same burden.âÂ
Mitch blinks at him three times. âNo one hated Einstein.â
The curly-haired boyâs lips twitch darkly. âIâm pretty sure Japan did.âÂ
âYouâre going to hell.âÂ
âIâm already there, mate.âÂ
Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a momentâs pause, he speaks up again softly. âItâs not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.âÂ
âOh, for fuckâs sake, youâre still on that?â The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. âWe were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, Iâll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.â
âThatâs all Iâm asking.â Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companionâs. âSânot too difficult.âÂ
âWhatever.â Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night.Â
He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that theyâre obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough.Â
When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but itâs somewhat distracted. âThe least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didnât even want to come.âÂ
Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. âYou say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Donât know why youâre complaining.âÂ
Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. âYou drag me to these things so Iâm not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.âÂ
âGod, please donât say that again.â His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. âYouâre acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.âÂ
Harryâs gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. Heâs never been insulted so low before. âTake that back!âÂ
âTake that back!â Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles.Â
âTake it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.â
âOkay, boomer.âÂ
âYouâre older than I am!âÂ
âI know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.â
Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal.Â
âWhatâs all this about getting your dick wet?âÂ
Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle.Â
Xander isnât paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harryâs shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned.Â
âItâs nothing.â Harry dismisses, but he canât help but stick Mitch with a glare. âWhatâs the plan for tonight, then?â
Adam speaks up for the first time. âCharlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think Iâll go find them.â
âSounds good.â Harry bobs his head in accordance. âWeâll see you out there, yeah?âÂ
Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps.Â
Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. âWhat about you? Whatâs got your head?â
âNot what, who.â Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend.Â
Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know heâll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device.Â
âI have a date.â He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious.Â
âA date?â Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesnât date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does.Â
âMmhm.â Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. âItâs just a random dude from Tinder. I thought itâd be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I donât have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.âÂ
âSmart.â Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. âBut we both know no one will ever compare to me.âÂ
âRight.â Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. âIf only you werenât such an emotionally unavailable prick.âÂ
âOh, like youâre mentally stable enough for a relationship?â Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. âPiss off.â
âHappily!â The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. âHave fun finding someone out there. Iâm just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.âÂ
Harry doesnât bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. âWhat have you got, Lucky Charms?âÂ
His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. âWell, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. Whatâs your game plan?âÂ
Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. âWhatâs my country-derived nickname?âÂ
Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. âBiscuits and Gravy.âÂ
Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. âI quite like We The People, actually.â
The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. âUncle Sam!â
Harryâs emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitchâs go half-lidded, no longer entertained. âFour Score And Seven Years Ago.âÂ
âOkay, I think thatâs enouââ
Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. âStar Spangled Banner?â
Harry copies the boyâs motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. âI Pledge Allegiance.â Â
âOk, I get it!â Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face.Â
âYou asked!â Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open.Â
âWonât make that mistake again.â The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that heâs done being a part of the conversation.Â
Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. âI think Iâm just gonna do what I always doâ sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.âÂ
âSolid.â The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. âNot much to do other than that, to be fair. Adamâs usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girlâs night.âÂ
âMitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.â Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return.Â
Niall hums softly in amusement. âMaybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.âÂ
The curly brunette snorts. âGood luck. Adamâs as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you canât find anyone, just come to me.â Harryâs irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. âYou know Iâm always happy to share.âÂ
âThanks,â his friend exhales flatly. âIâll keep that in mind.â
âIf youâre taking tips,â Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niallâs shirt with his chin, âmaybe donât wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.â
âItâs a good thing Iâm not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.â Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. âThe only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.âÂ
Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. âYouâll be fine. Just donât get hammeredâ girls hate that.âÂ
âNote taken.â The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. âIâll see you later, then.â
âLater.â The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up.Â
âGood luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.âÂ
With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake.Â
The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone elseâs example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitchâs latest gig at a new bar downtown.Â
Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that heâs willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. Itâs easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesnât think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable.Â
Harry wishes he could say the same. Heâs no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when heâs in a low state of mind, whichâ given the origin of how he learned said classical piecesâ isnât something heâs proud of. Theyâre tied to a very gruesome part of his past that heâd rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he canât explain.
Even though heâs aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices heâs doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. Itâs a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him.Â
When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk.Â
He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world.Â
Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if heâd grown an extra set of fangs.Â
Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. âYouâre so fucking dramatic, H.â
âHow did you not die? Again?â Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampireâs body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. âI almost lost an arm in there!â
âItâs a good thing it wasnât your favorite one, right?â Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. âHi, how are you? Iâm good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, Iâve got something in mind. Donât worry, Iâm not one of the âjust make me something sweetâ type of assholes.â
Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. Heâs pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is.Â
He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the othersâ specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. Thatâs a fantasy thatâs been waiting to be fulfill for decades now.Â
Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The workerâs eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, âComing right up.â either way.
âYou truly have no flavor.â Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. âNo taste buds whatsoever.âÂ
âYeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.â Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile.Â
The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl heâd seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how heâd get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harryâs undisputed people skills have anything to say about it.Â
As heâs rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie.Â
He knows where he recognizes them fromâ it had been the same girls heâd spotted earlier up on the second deck.
Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as heâd pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how sheâs the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means sheâs used to being the center of attentionâ probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldnât be able to sneak away with her quietly.Â
The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldnât make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. Itâs like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and theyâre all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste.Â
Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke.Â
Itâs hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way.Â
The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. Sheâs talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. Sheâs tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesnât want to be here.Â
The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrativeâ merely a background extraâ and it makes him wonder what sheâs doing with this clique of women that canât seem to be bothered by her presence. Itâs sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight.Â
The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. Sheâs unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. Sheâs easy to pass up, and if Harry hadnât been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldnât have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harryâs aware thatâ physically speakingâ heâs very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that heâd fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesnât want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what heâs looking for. Sheâs perfectly imperfect for the cause.Â
Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. Sheâs clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing.Â
Harry likes her outfit, though. Itâs concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentistâs office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks thereâs beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and thatâs good enough for him.Â
âShe seems interesting.â Mitchâs soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the musicâs bass.Â
His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection.Â
âI suppose so.â Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface.Â
He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything.Â
Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. âYouâve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.âÂ
The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. âEver so blunt, arenât you?â
Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, thatâs the one aspect Harry despises about his best mateâ that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality. Â
But Mitch is a creature of habitâ as are most of their kindâ and Harry knows he wonât shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harryâs intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for.Â
âWhat can I say? Pep talks are my forte.â The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harryâs glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. âNow go make dinner.â
âBut, darlinggggg,â Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. âI made dinner last night. Isnât it your turn?â
Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harryâs shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. âJust go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.âÂ
Harryâs own irises copy his friendâs actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. âOw.â
Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. âYouâve had worse. Go.â
Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harryâs aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes thatâs the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, theyâll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.
He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that heâs had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night.Â
Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him.Â
Itâs faint and tender and nothing quite like anything heâs encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his headâs been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.
He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.
Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed. Â
âIâm guessing youâre the designated driver?â
Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer.Â
Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding.Â
 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.
âFuck.â is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind.Â
The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. Heâs absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. Heâs sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.
Y/N canât help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cupâs size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner.Â
The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/Nâs stomach to summersault.Â
The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come.Â
Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friendâs heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze heâd spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes.Â
âOh! Uhmâuhââ She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol sheâd barely been nursing. âN-No. Iâm notâ well, I donât thinkâŠ? We Ubered here so that wouldnât make any sense âcause I have no car to drive...so...âÂ
The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she canât seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears.Â
Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. âSorry. Let me...Let me start overâŠHi.â
âHello.â He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. âMâHarry.â
âY/N.â The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because itâs easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own.Â
Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/Nâs body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know heâs interested.Â
When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. âSânice to meet you, Y/N.â
Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. Sheâd pay anything to hear him say it again. âYou, too.âÂ
This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what sheâd intended to happen when sheâd reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself sheâd be more social within her new job.Â
She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something sheâd rather not admit, but the following dayâ after she had sobered up from a wicked hangoverâ she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known.Â
All of Y/Nâs friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on âgetting the fuck out of here.â Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasnât the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city.Â
Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if sheâd ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life.Â
Things had never seemed more picturesque, sheâd thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.
Then, the culture shock hit.Â
California was different. Itâs was so fucking different than anything sheâd ever faced and she wasnât prepared for the social difficulties sheâd have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, sheâd remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldnât even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class.Â
Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. Sheâd been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again.Â
Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.
Y/N didnât mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/Nâs intimate life had been nonexistent since the move.Â
It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasnât what she had expected at all, and thatâs mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film.Â
Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamicâ into a new, social butterfly version of herself. Sheâd started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and sheâd started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and sheâd rather jump naked off a pier than see her parentsâ faces wracked with pity.Â
And thatâs exactly what sheâd done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now sheâd be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions.Â
Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/Nâs here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since sheâd left her old life behind. Thatâs why sheâs here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. Thatâs why sheâs here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each otherâs throats to realize theyâd almost toppled her off her seat. Thatâs why sheâs here, with a blasĂ© expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house.Â
Y/N had been thinking about how sheâd just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies sheâs going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. Sheâs positive Walt Disney would agree.Â
Thatâs what her brain had been lost in when Harryâs deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria.Â
Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand.Â
The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure heâs not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long itâs truly been since sheâs gotten laid and fuck, itâs sad.
Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. âYou donât mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?â
âYeah,â Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, âthatâs definitely tequila.â
Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm heâd just spoken to them.Â
The edges of Harryâs lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. âThank you. Promise Iâll keep her safe.âÂ
Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If sheâs not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, sheâs praying sheâs not mistaken.Â
The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs.Â
Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger.Â
Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats.Â
âI have more.â He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor.Â
Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that sheâs been caught and Harryâs teeth grind. Itâs so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than heâd originally let on. âWould you like to see them?â
Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, âSure.âÂ
She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. Itâd probably look even better if she were on her knees.
Yeah, he definitely likes her more than heâd thought.Â
Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life.Â
Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesnât miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail.Â
His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. âYou can touch them, if youâd like. I donât mind.â
After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and itâs making him throb.Â
âTheyâre very pretty.â Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. âDid they hurt?âÂ
âA bit, yeah. But Iâve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.â Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show itâs no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adamâs Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. âPlus, I kinda like the pain.âÂ
Y/Nâs breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. âSo whyâd you ask if I was the designated driver? Thatâs kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.âÂ
Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. âI just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touchedâŠI just assumed, I suppose.âÂ
And there it is againâ the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, heâs going to fucking lose it.
âThank you, thatâsâ thatâs really sweet. Proper gentleman.âÂ
Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that heâll expand on as they go. âWho doesnât like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?âÂ
Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. âTo answer your question, Iâ uhm...Iâm not really one for the club scene, I guess. Donât really like it, but I didnât want to be rude and turn down the invitation.âÂ
âGood girl,â Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human.Â
âWell, thatâs where we share some common ground, then.â He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. âI donât care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.â
He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where heâd left Mitch, continuing his rant. âThe choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk moronsââ
âBumping into you without giving a shit.â Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now sheâs convinced sheâd do anything to hear him laugh like that again. âAnd thereâs always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.â
Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. âRight?! Itâs fucking disgusting. Donât understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.âÂ
Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. âIt honestly doesnât make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, yâknow?â
Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. âMy thoughts exactly.âÂ
âGreat minds think alike.â Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time heâd spotted her from across the room.Â
After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. âAre you from around here?â
She canât be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly.Â
Sheâs once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. âKinda. I moved here about two months ago.âÂ
Precisely his point.
Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. âLet me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.â
Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harryâs brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.
Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way sheâd finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. âIâm guessing youâre not from around here either though, are you?â
Now itâs Harryâs turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile.Â
âWhat gave it away?â He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin sheâd just stifled fully break through.
Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. âYour accent seems a little tooâŠposh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.â
Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. âKeen ears, mate.â
Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. âCheers.â
He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.
âI like your nails.â She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. âDid you do them yourself?â
Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. âSure did.âÂ
âDonât think Iâve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.âÂ
The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. âHow do you mean?â
Y/Nâs gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised.Â
She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. âI mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.âÂ
Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes heâs actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. Heâs never like thisâ never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.
Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.
âKnown you for maybe,â he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, âten minutes, and youâre already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think thatâs a record.âÂ
Y/N doesnât know if itâs the liquor sheâd just consumed too quickly, or if itâs Harryâs intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but sheâs suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. âIâve been told Iâm pretty good at stroking, so an egoâs not too hard to handle.â
Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he canât say he doesnât enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. Thereâs just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach.Â
âIs that so?â His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. âWhat else can you handle?â
Y/N knows that sheâs starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. Sheâs not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. âHow about you buy me another drink and then maybe youâll find out?â
Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. âHow do you like LA so far?â
âItâs...alright.â Itâs Y/Nâs turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume sheâd dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. âItâs definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think Iâm slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.â
âLAâs definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or itâll eat you alive and spit you back out.âÂ
She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give.Â
Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. âIâm just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?â
âYou asshole!â Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath.Â
He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. âLooked like you were about to cry.âÂ
âIt definitely crossed my mind, yeah!â
The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/Nâs on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesnât have to, but he waves it off and says heâs more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she âhates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.âÂ
A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.
âBut, yeah, Caliâs for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,â he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she canât quite interpret. âBut sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.âÂ
âI donât doubt it.â Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. âSometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.â
âA lucky strike.â He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. âTo meeting interesting people.â
The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. âTo meeting interesting people.âÂ
Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks.Â
When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to herâs in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, heâs a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.
By the time Y/Nâs amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now itâs more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patientâ definitely unlike most men in clubs.Â
The mortal girl had gently shoved Harryâs chest when heâd made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when heâd nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.
By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N canât recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldnât be bothered to keep track. Besides, sheâs too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge.Â
An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.
âSo how do you like your new home?â
She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. âI love it, actually. Itâs a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldnât be happier.â
The corners of Harryâs swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. âThat sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.âÂ
âThank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?â
âOh, I own a condo here.â He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. âI used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.â
âLook at you, investing in real estate.â She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.
âMmhm.â Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. âIs it nice?âÂ
âHm?â
His lips twitch in endearment at how heâs managing to make her lose her train of thought. âYour apartment, darling.â
She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. âItâs nothing huge or fancy, but itâs a decent size and l can call it home. Canât get much better than that.â
Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupidâs bow and dotting every peak.
Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and sheâs talking before she can analyze her thoughts. âWell, at least I think it canât get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.âÂ
It takes Harry a moment to register what sheâs suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how heâs stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and itâs one of many times sheâs made it happen. âAn outside opinion?â
Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like heâs accepting the vague invitation, but sheâs so anxious to mess this up that sheâs second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and thatâs enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. âMmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?â
Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again.Â
He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. âIâm more than happy to be of service.â
A smile works its way onto Y/Nâs own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. âIâm glad to hear.â
âMm.â Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. âShall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldnât want them to worry about you.â
He knows her âfriendsâ couldnât care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.
Y/N snorts, knowing full well that theyâd probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke.Â
She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. âYouâre sweet, but itâs fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so Iâm pretty sure they wonât mind.âÂ
Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. âIâm glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?â
The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. âIâll make sure to pass the message along.âÂ
With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. Itâs the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she canât wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight. Â
Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that heâs excited to be alone with her has Y/Nâs insides churning.Â
Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up heâd gotten her and itâs all coming to a raging boil.Â
Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. âLater, Brock.âÂ
The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name.Â
Y/N repeats Harryâs phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.
She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes heâll let her sleep in it after theyâre done.Â
She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. Sheâs itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?
Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/Nâs jaw nearly falls off. âThis is yours?!â
She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isnât worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight.Â
Harry unlocks the passengerâs door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. âHope itâs not too shabby for your liking.â Â
âAre you kidding?â The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. âI feel like I should bow to it or something.â
He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. âI think you fit right in.âÂ
Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. âLooks like Iâm not the only one thatâs good at stroking egos.â
âSâhardly a task. You make it easy, doll.âÂ
Itâs the second pet name heâs called her tonightâ itâs strangely vintage, same as his carâ and she canât wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.
Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. âQuite the charmer.â
A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harryâs curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadnât heard from him yet. âCan I kiss you?â
She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. âFuck, I thought youâd never ask.âÂ
Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila heâd been swishing the whole night.Â
Harryâs breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. âChrist, that was hot.â
As much as she loves the taste of himâ the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carryâ she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. âYeah. It was.â
With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrupâprobably from her lipglossâ orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.
A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer.Â
He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while. Â
The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driverâs side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but sheâs certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive. Â
He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, sheâs not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium sheâs referring to without having to even search it upâ a perk of living here for a few decades.
He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadnât mentioned he shouldnât drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks heâd had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comicalâ and slightly arousingâ that sheâs so eager to get at him that sheâd let that detail slip her mind.
Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and sheâs about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, âJust a second, dove.â He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure itâs nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesnât know why he cared to do it, but he had.Â
The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/Nâs cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess heâs going to leave her when thereâs no clothes restraining them.
âThanks.â She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.
âNo need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.âÂ
He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/Nâs willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys.Â
Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell.Â
Sheâs talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor sheâd consumed. âIf you keep looking at me like that, Iâm going to do something to you thatâs gonna get us both killed.â
The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them.Â
Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. Itâs the first time tonight heâs touched her so intimately.Â
The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.
âAnd if you say something like that to me again, I promise you Iâll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.âÂ
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can u write something for feitan finding scars from self harm on his s/o? he enjoys torture and pain and its interesting to think how hed react to something like that one someone he cares about/loves
This turned into 1700 words, fucking hell, I got too carried away, but this subject hits very hard with me, so hopefully I did it justice. I absolutely believe Feitan is capable of caring, even loving, but itâd be a very different kind of love than what most would be used to.Â
So, enjoy, hopefully xxx
warnings for blood, blood kinks, self-harm mentions, mentions of general mental health issues.Â
Also; feel the need to mention that if any of you are suffering in any way, shape or form, my askbox is always open xxxx
How did I get here? You sighed, sinking further into the empty bathtub, trembling from head to toe as shame threatened to drown you, the horrible, but familiar ball of disgust was swirling wildly in your chest as you eyed the door nervously, praying he wouldnât find you, like hell. You bit down on your lip as the doorknob turned slowly, youâd locked it, though youâd also known it wouldnât keep him out, when had anything ever kept him out?
You allowed the smallest of smiles as your mind wandered, to all those months ago when heâd first come over your balcony, on the twenty-fifth floor at your apartment complex, eyes a little wild, hair a little windswept, aura radiating malicious intent. Heâd smirked at you like some kind of deviant, eyes raking over your form, taking in the way your legs trembled, barely holding you up, enjoying your fear, perhaps a little too much, but gods, heâd looked so beautiful. Had you fallen in love with him in that very moment? Perhaps, perhaps it had been later, with how patient he had been, how willing to take things at your pace he had been, the space he had given you, it had all been such an experience, especially since you were well aware, he was a complete and total sadist.
Heâd wanted to hurt you, you knew he wanted to hurt you, even to this day, and sometimes you even went willingly, more often than not these days, it was you who went in search of him, desperate to feel the stinging bite of his whip, or the wet, burning pain of his claws raking through your skin, like butter. Heâd been more than willing to oblige you, of course, losing more and more control as you gave more of yourself to him with every passing day. You were grateful, you realised, laughing softly at the absurdity, grateful that heâd stolen you away in the middle of the night, and locked you up inside this place he sometimes called home, to be his own personal little toy, but what a life it had been so far.
And now Iâve ruined it all.
You whimpered softly and hid your face, pressed firmly against your knees as the door opened slowly, allowing the dark-haired man to slip inside without a sound, eyes locking on your form instantly. You couldnât see his eyes burning into you, but you could defintley feel that loaded gaze, and a tremor racked your body as you sniffled quietly. It had been a moment of weakness on your part, a lapse in memory of exactly why you had always been so careful, though heâd seen you stripped down on many an occasion, youâd always dutifully covered the hideous marks up with the make-up that heâd supplied you with when youâd asked. The shame that wracked you now was deep, all encompassing at your own stupidity. Heâs going to throw me away, no doubt about it
The scars on your legs had not faded over the years, mostly because you were a repeat offender, despite trying to get help multiple times, nothing had really ever made a difference, and you had tired of people always looking down on you, with their pitiful eyes, âoh but we understand what youâre going throughâ, or, even better, âwhy would you do something so revolting to yourselfâ? The scars had eventually just become a normal part of your body, and since you were too riddled with anxiety to ever really connect with anyone, theyâd never been an issue, until him, of course. Youâd been tired, too tired to remember your morning routine, and now here you were, hiding in a bathtub as he walked slowly towards you, you fought the urge to cry, or laugh at how pathetic you were.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
The smallest ones were just pale lines across your upper thigh, the worst, the ones you had done in your most extreme episodes of self-hatred, were raised, bumpy, purple lines, that stood out a mile away, and you shook and cried quietly at the thought that heâd seen them, ghosted a finger over them, even, before your mind had screamed the realisation at you, which, in turn, had led to your very undignified bolt from the bedroom youâd recently begun sharing with him.
A soft touch against your throat had you shivering and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, will he just get rid of me, or maybe even kill me? The gentle finger trailing down your neck forced a tiny little whimper from your throat, and a low growl rumbled from his chest in response as he swung into the tub with you, landing silently, to sit behind you. His hot breath on your ear had your eyes fluttering as he pulled you back against his cool chest, hands gripping tightly at your thighs even as you made a choked noise of distress at the action. A hot tongue ran slowly over the sensitive skin along your jaw, and you gasped quietly, leaning into him further as his teeth bit down harshly, eliciting a shaky little groan from you as you felt something wet dripping down your neck. His tongue ran over it instantly, shuddering as he cleaned the stinging wound carefully, nails drawing slow circles over your scarred skin even as you watched shakily.
He nuzzled into your throat then, and you turned slightly, before finally lifting your head to meet those eyes you loved so much, shivering at the intensity you found there, shivering when he leaned in to claim your mouth in a slow kiss, tongue surging forward into your mouth as he pulled you closer, tugging you around to straddle his slim waist, nails turning to claws, digging into your hips with a grin as you groaned against his hot mouth, shuddering against him as he clawed at your skin, slowly, with patience, and a care you knew he showed only to you. His eyes burned as he gazed down at your soft figure, eye twitching as he battled with his own self-control, tongue swiping over his lip as he squeezed the bloody claw marks.
His eyes snapped back up to your face then, and seemed to read the uncertainty there, the indescribable terror, at the thought of being abandoned by the only person youâd ever met who seemed to understand your need to be punished, to be hurt, to be pushed to the very limit of consent. His forehead touched yours gently, stormy eyes locked on yours as you breathed him in, comforted by the tangy smell of copper and blood that clung to him, strange to others, comforting to you. You bit your lip and took a risk, eyes flicking down so you didnât have to see his reaction.
âIâm afraid that if I let you see every side of me, youâll be disgustedâ, whispered so softly you almost hoped he wouldnât hear it, but judging by the tightening of his grip, the way his claws dug further into your supple flesh as you shivered, heâd heard you just fine. A warm mouth pressed against your jaw then, before moving up your face, across your cheeks, over your nose, pressing against your mouth, before tangling his tongue with yours again, slowly, like he was mapping out the inside of your mouth in intricate detail, leaving you gasping against his mouth when he finally pulled back to look at you, expression unreadable.
His eyes fluttered, his mouth turned down in a slight grimace before he opened it slowly, âI-â, he cut himself off, appearing frustrated by his inability to find the correct wording, his left hand moving up to card his now soft hands through your hair, lost in thought for a moment, considering carefully as you waited with bated breath, body trembling against him even as he tugged you closer, hands running up and down your arms to address the little bumps now appearing on your skin, when had it got so cold?
âI-â, he began again, still looking a touch uncertain as he tilted his head, eyes focusing on you with a seriousness that knocked all the breath out of your chest, âI-like-broken-thingsâ, he managed to say, voice as monotone as it always was, and yet, you could feel the sudden emotion behind it, his desperate desire to get this right. â Find-them-interestingâ, he continued before shaking his head swiftly, looking annoyed with himself, âbeautifulâ, he amended quietly, âfind-them-beautifulâ. You trembled, nose brushing against his as your pressed closer to him.
âMaybe-that-is-whyâ, he began slowly, face scrunched in concentration, eyes a little wider than usual, âwhy-i-find-you-beautifulâ, he finished, averting his eyes instantly, clearly uncomfortable. You shivered, arms trembling as you sat in his lap, hands running slow up and down his bare chest, eyes wet with unshed tears as you took it all in, he wasnât leaving you. Your mouth found his a moment later, nails digging into his back and raking down his skin as he hissed underneath you in pleasure, claws returning to your hips again.
He claimed your mouth hungrily as you ground slowly down against him, moaning loudly into his mouth as he grabbed your ass, sharp claws breaking the skin with ease, pressing hard enough to leave a scar, for sure. âOnly-meâ, mumbled against your bare shoulder as he bit down, hard, drawing a desperate little squeal from you as you tugged on his dark locks pleadingly. âOnly-I-hurt-you-nowâ, he finished before biting down viciously again, groaning as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
Your head collapsed against his as you trembled and gasped, body like a live wire against him as you went boneless, too enraptured in all the emotions, all the pleasure surging through you to really pay much attention, though you forced your brain to form a coherent sentence, knowing heâd be expecting a confirmation.
âYesâ, whispered softly against his hair as your breathing grew more laboured, âyes, only youâ, enjoying the contented little hum against your stinging shoulder as he smirked slowly against your bloody skin, already bruising a dark purple under the sharp bite of his teeth.
âOnly you, Feitanâ.
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The Parent Trap | Chapter Six; to love someone else
pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
AU: The Parent Trap, Â dad!harry
series summary: Â Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.
chapter summary; There are so many thing to say, but so little time for Harry and Y\N.Â
author note; well hello there, ıâm back. Itâs been really long and Iâm so soryy about it. But I guess you guys are used to it. I will try to write the next chapter soon! Donât be shy to send me a message if you would like to talk and be friends. I donât bite, I promise!Â
Iâm sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. My askbox is always open if you want to talk. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you. Â
Taglist is open. Please send me an ask or comment if you want to be tagged! (22\30)
The Parent Trap Masterlist, main masterlistÂ
Life had a funny way of bringing people together, and it had no interest in their desires. Sitting on one of the blue couches, a coffee in her hand, the only thing Y\N wanted to do was run away and never look back. But she wasn't eighteen anymore; she had learned that running from your problems only circled you back to them. So, she did what every reasonable person would do, stayed put. But now, seeing her hand shaking while holding the silver spoon, Y\N was questioning every decision she ever made that brought her to this point.Â
So much for getting over him Y\N, well done.Â
"You look good."Â
The moment words left his mouth Harry cursed himself silently. You look good. Of course, she did. Is that what he all had? After almost nine years, Y\N still made him tongue-tied. He wasn't the Harry who stood in front of thousands of people to perform; he was a boy again, and he hated it. He was eighteen again, seeing his producer's sister and thinking, maybe he is capable of love. Despite feeling like it was yesterday, Harry wasn't eighteen anymore. He didn't have the opportunities to be stupid and in love. It had been a long time since Harry had lost that chance. Wishing he could say sorry and explain anything wasn't going to solve anything, and it surely wasn't going to bring him his old Y\N, who was naive enough to fall in love with a worldwide star. She knew better now. So, maybe the only thing he could come up with was you look good.Â
Even though a moment of sadness passed her face, Y\N was quick to pull herself together. She put a kind smile on her face, the way she did when one of her customers made her feel tired, but she still had to keep going. Harry had seen that smile before when he told her he had to cancel one of their dates, again or when he told her that they couldn't be seen together in public.
"You look good too."Â
There it was again, her velvet-like voice. Y\N had always amazed Harry; she could be kind to everyone no matter what, even when the person across her was the reason for her broken heart. Neither of them dared to ask about their sons and each other. How would you ask about someone you chose to leave behind?Â
"Can I..." Y\N could feel her anxiety riling up. She took a deep breath and tried sitting more straight. "How is he?"Â
Harry's heart almost skipped a beat. He couldn't decide if he was stupid to send him away. Would it be less awkward if Benjamin was there, or would it be a dread to explain to him why his mother was standing in the middle of their guest room?Â
"Look, I know we had an agreement." Y\N sighed. Harry didn't realize how much time it took him to come up with an answer until she spoke. "I only want to know how he is."
"He's... Well, he's good."Â
Harry apparently lost his ability to form any good sentences that day, but it looked like he was talking to a brick wall. Y\N left her cup on the coffee table, now leaning and resting her elbows on her knees.Â
"I feel like I'm doing a terrible job." Eyes fixed on the ground and watery, head between her hands, Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Y\N so vulnerable. "Edward is the sweetest boy, I swear. He's the perfect kid any parent could ask for. And I feel like I'm the worst mother for tearing him apart from his brother, for not giving him the life he deserves. And the only thing I can think of is would he be happier if he were with you." She was up suddenly, pacing around the room.Â
"And how much I missed from Benjamin's life. Will, he ever know me, or Edward ever know you? Will they ever know each other? Will they ever forgive us for what we did?" She stopped, looking at Harry. Â She couldn't remember how long it had been since she looked into his green eyes. She wanted to keep going. Scream, shout, cry. But she stood there, looking at him, waiting like he could give her an answer.Â
Will I ever forgive myself for letting you go?
Y\N wanted to keep asking, but there was no point. She stopped a tear before it could reach her jaw, quickly. "God, I don't know how long I've been holding that in."Â
Harry was dying to apologize, to ask if she was missing him as much as he was missing her. He was dying to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he sat there, like an idiot.
"We were young, Y\N. We did what we thought was best. Wrong or right, there is no undoing it right now."Â
Hearing her name roll off his sweet mouth woke something inside Y\N. She had so many things she wanted to say but didn't know where to begin. Her mouth was frantically opening and closing back again, but nothing came out.Â
-
Sarah and Mitch were just outside the room, trying to listen to the conversation. "I swear he's so stupid," Mitch whispered. "Just say something!"Â
"Hey, be quiet. I'm trying to listen."Â
Before Mitch could say anything, he heard key sounds coming from the front door. He quickly turned to Sarah. "Camille wasn't visiting today, right?" He was praying that it wasn't Camille, but there wasn't anyone outside them who had keys to Harry's house.Â
"Shit."Â
-
"I know you're a great mother, Y\N; I know that. And I know we did wrong things, but that doesn't mean you're failing."
"I feel like I am." Y\N was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting with her white shirt. She wanted to yell, how could he possibly know what kind of mother she was? He was never there. Harry stood up with a purpose to walk to Y\N and maybe to hold her. But his actions stopped when the door to the guest room opened. Â
And there she was, Camille Rowe with all her glory. Blonde hair sitting on her shoulders, red-colored lips, and long lashes, she looked like she came straight from a runway. And Y\N tried with all her might, but she couldn't hate her. Even though her pants were horrible, even though she always used her beauty to get away with her cruelty. And, true, the diamond ring sitting on her finger was no help, but still, she had no hate for her. It wasn't Camille's fault that she was at his feet, basically asking Harry to fix everything because she was too vulnerable.
How Y\N wished she could love somebody else that wasn't Harry. She wished she could move on as he did. But it was stuck, her whole life was stuck since he left her without any explanation. Sometimes she would feel so ready to love someone else, to find anybody willing to take her this broken. She tried so hard, lying to herself, making everyone believe she got over him. She didn't listen to any of his songs, watch anything that could be related to him. Â She was running away for the last nine years, not once stopping and looking back. Well, look where it brought her to now, sitting in the same room with him and his fiancee, who had no idea how much history they had.Â
"I honestly love everything piece you do." Did she? Y\N couldn't tell if Camille knew everything or not. But if she did, she was a damn good actress. And Y\N was terrified of what could come after this if she didn't leave that house right now. "I would love it if you worked on my wedding dress."Â
Y\N's whole world was upside down at that moment. Her hair on her neck stood on end. Her whole body was shivering; she didn't know if it was rage or hurt. Still, the smile came up again.Â
"I'm afraid I'm too busy with my new collection."Â
"Well, I will have to find someone else, I guess." Camille laughed, her hand sneaking up Harry's leg. Y\N was burning, her blood felt like it was boiling inside her veins. She needed to get out of there, quick. "But I'm so glad Harry could reach somebody. He had been looking for that cardigan for days, now. I thought he was going crazy." She laughed again, unlike everyone else in the room but, apparently she didn't care.Â
"It was no problem, honestly. Jonathan is a dear friend of mine; I was just doing a favor." Y\N couldn't believe how calm she sounded. Maybe she should have chosen to be an actress.Â
"I'm sure you're very busy, but we would love to see you at the wedding. Right, honey?" Camille turned to Harry, waiting for his approval. Harry quickly nodded as if he was waiting to agree to everything she was saying. "Of course."Â
"I'll have to see, I guess." Y\N didn't know how much longer she could pretend like everything bathed in sunlight. So, she got up, ignoring the shaking in her legs. "I should go, my team is probably waiting for me."
"It was lovely to meet you." Camille held her hand out. Her grasp was hard like she was telling Y\N to start running and never look back again. Still, Y\N stood her ground, firmly taking her handshake and smiling. Her eyes meet Harry's for a second. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't think anything that she could say would turn this around. So, she lied instead.Â
"Congratulation on the engagement. You two make a lovely couple."Â
Y\N couldn't believe she could lie so effortlessly, without any trembling in her voice. Still, shaking Camille's warm hand and seeing her next to Harry with a diamond on her hand made her want to get in her car and run away to somewhere very far away that she could throw up. So, she did that.Â
TAGLIST: @yllwtaxi @meredithhuntt @soullessbabee @xoxoellll @2kayla64 @sometrueaffection @fromthedt @angelbabyivy @kennedywxlshââ @harrymarvel @kisskillstudio @pouge-h @sunsetcurve-hâ @odetostepâ @yhoundâ @chubby-dumplingâ @swtxelâ @moonstarrnghtskyâ @blackfarrahfawcettâ @deeppoetryface @butterflyclossâ @revise-it-allÂ
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Painterâs Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5
very pretty, very beautiful
Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU
Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand. Â
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident
AN: WHOAH OKAY. So Iâve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, yâall. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Donât be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie
â
(read chapter 4 here)
âI think youâre very pretty.â
I think youâre very pretty?
Fuck. Shit.
âI-I-I mean,â Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, âYouâre very, uh, very beautiful.â He says it because itâs true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. Youâre more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, youâre gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, youâve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. Itâs overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how youâre looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. Theyâre glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.
Oh. Thatâs right, sheâs high.
Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.
âVery beautiful?â Itâs soft, hopeful.
He forces himself not to retract the statement (because itâs true) out of self-preservation.
âVery beautiful, kid.â He can say it without stuttering this time. Itâs important that you believe him, and itâs equally important that this is as far as it goes.
You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.
âThank you,â the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.
He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Canât risk this, not with you, not with you.
âYour, um, your pajamas,â he points to the end of the bed where theyâre sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.
In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.
Fucking hell.
âDo you think Iâm pretty?â
What kind of question is that? Do you not think youâre pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks youâre pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?
Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, itâd finally felt complete.
âSorry, mama,â he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.
A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.
He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.
â
Itâs 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then youâre letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.
Youâre sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay â he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. Itâs when youâre looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that heâs unsure.
He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. Theyâre wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. âItâs me, kid, itâs just me,â he intones, âIt was just a dream, youâre safe, itâs just me.â
Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then youâre launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.
âBreathe.â He sets an example with his own deep breaths.
Itâs a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesnât mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.
âDo you want to talk about it?â
He feels you shake your head.
âDo you want to go back to sleep?â
You hesitate before you whisper, âOnly if you stay.â
Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. âOkay. Iâll stay.â
You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but theyâve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.
He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.
âWhatâs that look for?â he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.
âNothing,â you hum. âCome here, please.â
He blinks at you for a second. Thatâs my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that heâs on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.
â
The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.
Youâre not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. Heâs been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like youâve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.
âHiââ the greeting dies in your throat when you see whoâs standing there.
âHi,â Annie says. Sheâs standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.
âWhat?â Itâs a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesnât harbor the animosity you would expect â youâre not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.
âI got your voicemail.âÂ
You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief âhold theseâ before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.
She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like youâre crying, and slightly muffled.
âAnnie, hi, um, I know itâs late but I couldnât think of anyone else to call, I just,â sniffle, âI know weâre not talking and Iâm still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldnât think of who else to call and long story short I think Iâm in love with Levi and he mightâve just rejected me but I just couldnât tellââ
âOkay, okay, I get it,â you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. âBut why are you here?â You know why sheâs here â Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if youâd been drunk and high and half asleep and you donât really remember doing it.
âYou called, here I am. Thatâs what best friends do.â Her tone is even.
âNot best friends who fuck their best friendsâ boyfriends,â you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.
She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.
âLook, if you want me to leave, Iâll leave. But Iâm here now and thereâs more to the story that you arenât aware of.â
âWhat else could there possibly be?â
âLetâs go for a walk and Iâll tell you,â she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. âI brought coffee and donuts. Theyâre jelly.â
Jelly donuts are your favorite.
You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.
âFine.â You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. âJust let me get dressed.â
She follows you in, even though you donât extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.
It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You donât bother with a bra.
You knock lightly on Leviâs door and call through, âIâm going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.â You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. âLetâs go,â you turn and address Annie, who stands.
The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But thereâs also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Erenâs jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.
The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.
âSo. You wanted to talk. Talk.â You bite into the donut.
She sighs through her nose. âI know what you saw. We⊠we did kiss, but we didnât do anything else. We never had sex.â
âHmm.â A sip of coffee.
âI know you have no reason to believe me, but itâs the truth. Iâm guessing you didnât exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?â
âI didnât have time for his bullshit excuses.â
She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, âI know you donât owe either of us anything, and this isnât meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?â
You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit thereâs a large part of you thatâs been wondering at the why, even if youâve refused to hear it.
âOkay. Tell me why.â
She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.
âIâve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. Weâve always been this⊠this odd group. You wouldnât think we were close if you didnât know us. But it wasnât always just us.â She pauses, looking distant. âDo you know Porco Galliard?â
Galliard⊠âHeâs a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?â
âYeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?â
âHe has a brother?â
âHad. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and weâd all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Dennyâs for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and itâd been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was⊠I hadnâtâŠâ She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. âIt was horrible.â
Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You donât know what youâd expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasnât this. It wasnât Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.
âHey,â you start, voice gentler than itâs been all day. âYou donât have toââ
âNo, no, I want to, just... give me a second,â she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.
âOkay,â you whisper, looking back out across the water.
âIt, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. Thatâs why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We donât have forever. And Bertl, heâŠâ she smiles, watery and reminiscent. âWhen he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and⊠well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.â
Your breath catches in your throat. Thatâs a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, youâd never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. Heâd always seemed so⊠sunshiney. You clearly hadnât given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.
Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where youâve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.
âAnd then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?â You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. âI thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe weâd be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.â
She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.
âHeâs so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didnât know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldnât go through you. I donât⊠I didnât know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadnât seen him physically for a month. It hurt.â
She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything sheâs saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though thereâs nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.
âSo I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didnât know what Iâd say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasnât listening to me, so I just⊠kissed him. I donât know what I was thinking, I didnât know you were there, I didnât even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.
âSo, long story short,â her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, âI fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldnât use my words.â She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. âSo, um. Yeah, thatâs the why, I guess. I donât expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just⊠I needed you to know. It wasnât like, this elaborate affair.â
You arenât sure how to right your brain from the way itâs tilted off kilter. Itâs so much, so different from what youâd built up in your head. Thereâs no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.
Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, âDid he kiss you back?â You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, âSorry, thatâs not exactly imââ
âNo, itâs fine,â she meets your eyes. âHe did kiss me back.â
âOh. Okay, umâŠâ you trail off, bite your lip. You donât know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where youâd been slouching against the railing. âOkay. Youâve been honest, so I will be, too.â
She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.
âI donât know how I feel right now,â you start. âI think I need some time and perspective. But, I⊠I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didnât let any communication happen.â You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. âAnd, I wasnât there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea â no idea! â what he was going through.â
âWell, he didnât exactly tell youââ
âAnd why is that?â Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. âDid he feel like he couldnât confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasnât exactly shy about telling him my shit.â You take a long draw of coffee. âAnyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldnât I?â
She nods. âHeâd like that.â
Youâre both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.
âIâve missed you,â you confess into the storm. âA lot.â
âI missed you, too.â
Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.
âWhy, uh⊠why didnât you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?â
She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. âI was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didnât know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.â
You hum, nodding. âI get that.â
Thereâs another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide itâs better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.
âSo,â she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, âwhatâs this about you being in love with Levi?â
âAw, shit,â you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. âIt really snuck up on me.â
âIs that so? Canât say Iâm shocked.â Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. âAnd you think he rejected you.â
âWell, IâŠâ you cringe, thinking back to last night. âHe called me very beautiful.â
âDoesnât sound like a rejection.â
âIt was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,â you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.
âI think thatâs just his emotional constipation.âÂ
You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly.
âAnnie!â
âWhat? Iâm right.â She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. âHe likes you, or heâs an idiot if he doesnât.â
You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. âHmm. Weâll see.â
âYes,â she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. âWe will.â
â
(read part 6 here)
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reserved farmer headcanons + meeting the bachelors for the first time!
wanted to make some generally reserved farmer headcanons to kick off this blog and bc i see a lot of very friendly farmers out there and i... am not one of them LMAO
additionally, there's reference to a supposed volatile relationship with a (former?) loved one (projection time!)
also i forgot to open my askbox bc idk how to tumblr ?? i think it's open now (i hope).
tw: drinking and alcoholism, references to past trauma, one Bad Word (sh^t!)
when you first meet everyone, it's a quiet greeting and maybe a witty remark, but you don't stay for any chit-chat
close-lipped smiles are your signature move, along with the Man Nod whenever you run into someone
you are, of course, a nice and courteous person but you don't feel the need to say hello to everyone every damn time you pass by them because, really, you're too busy rushing to Pierre's for some seeds or lugging around foraged beach stuff
okay, maybe some of them think you're a little cold and an introvert who has... problems
but you're not! you are a strong and emotionally stable farmer who gets Shit Done and prefers to observe over participate and think over talk!
mayor lewis is extremely puzzled and almost mistakes you for someone else-- it's been over a decade and people change too much, too soon. he makes a remark about a wishing well your grandfather had built long ago (remember the well? how you fell in it that one time?) and you nod along politely (i didn't fall, i climbed in because i desperately needed my wish to come true)
it's nice to meet people who aren't as temperemental as the tides. maybe, for once, you could have a proper relationship with someone.
alex
easily the most annoying and extroverted person in town what with his obsession with sports and loud, brash personality but you two get along fabulously because you had that same passion for gridball in college before you were too busy being a corporate slave
he's a little surprised that you sit next to him at the saloon but he goes along easily and the conversation flows between the two of you easily, ranging from future plans (thinking of going pro... think i'll make it?) to the weather without sounding like you're making fake smalltalk (i wanted to play pro, too, and here i am now. if you really want it, you'll have to leave this all behind)
there's something genuine about him that's intriguing and it leaves you wanting to find out and see what the real alex is like inside because you can see through that wall he's made
and there's something enigmatic about you, who is reserved and quiet and seems to be a simple open book, when in fact, you are a very attractive onion with many, many layers
sam
you think he's immature. a wildchild, a manchild, a wildmanchild, really. sam, on the other hand, is drawn in by your calmness and how in-control you appear to be-- when you offer to play a game of pool when sebastian doesn't show up, he's delighted at the opportunity to know you better
okay, so he is immature and a wildmanchild but there is a softness in him that surprises you every time he shows it-- which is frequently around you
he has a soft smile to counteract his proud one and he's so in awe of how you get so much stuff done every day (i don't know how you do it, that's gotta be tough), every week, and every month (you'd like the responsibility, i think. to me, it's one big project i need to finish)
he has instant crush on you because you're so cool even though your line of profession really doesn't evoke much awe. i mean, you're attractive, you are so in control of your life, and you have a really cute smile whenever he compliments you-- how could he not?
shane
bit bold of you to sit next to him at the saloon because every knows he's can be a real asshole, but he glances at you with a hint of awe and more than a hint of annoyance. you elect to ignore this and choose to order a whisky on the rocks (if you don't drink, call it apple juice)
whisky: shane's a touch impressed because you look like a lightweight. well, it's nice that someone can hold their liquor. he makes a remark about it (planning on getting drunk, huh?) and you raise a brow at him, looking a little haughty and tell him that it's your drink for the week. he's annoyed at your remark and starts an argument that surprisingly, settles down into a civil conversation
apple juice: he snorts at that and makes a remark about meeting penny for your lessons the next day. you play along and sip at your drink, making witty remarks (thank yoba for hangovers. it's the non-drinker's edge, really. just like not having liver failure). he's not sure if he should be annoyed or impressed at your cool-as-a-cucumber personality, not sure if it's too big city or too closed-off
you offer to buy him a pizza if you can take a away his beer-- at any rate, he looks like he'll end up with liver failure the way he's going. shane aquiesces and devours the entire pizza. your conversation is slow and punctuated with his loud chewing but you're pleasantly suprised that he's quite smart and well-read about whatever you're interested in
the fourth time you sit next to him, he turns down your pizza and doesn't say a word. neither do you and it's almost like it's back to square one until you realize that he hasn't made a single salty remark about anything. you decide to try again the day after tomorrow-- nothing comes too quickly to people like you and shane.
sebastian
it was the necklace you wore that caught his eye. a shining teardrop stone hanging off a gleaming silver chain. he had spoken before he could stop himself and watched as you smiled and told him he was right-- it is supposed to be a Yeti's tear.
you're pleased to meet someone who is also a homebody and a touch more reserved than a lot of other people in town. he's easy to get along with (oh, you're kidding, you really have the signed edition?) and he's got pretty good taste when it comes to literature-- after all, who can refuse a good sci-fi book? (of course i do, i'm dedicated fan)
oddly enough, your conversation is quick and eager and not all reserved. instead of the companionable silence everyone assumes you two to have, you two nearly talk over each other because you finally have someone to complain to about everyone's over-friendliness and he finally has someone who understands what it's like to be trapped in a small world
you tease him about the corporate rat race and he fires back at you about being a part of it. you like sebastian and he likes you-- it's as simple as that.
elliot
he had heard of you through leah who had heard of you through emily who had heard of you through gus who had heard of you from lewis. it was a long grapevine and he's not sure how much of the truth was preserved and it's almost a relief to meet you because, to be frank, he's tired of being the town's newcomer.
first-- you're not peppy and overly cheerful at all. second, you are definitely not hot-tempered. and third, there's something so fascinating about you, something hidden under your calm, pragmatic character. he finds a kindred spirit in you, save for the flowery words and, admittedly, the vanity.
you're amused to meet a writer living on the beach. the cabin was built by one of your grandfather's old friends, a rather surly man who had taken a liking to you when you were much younger. while the hut is in no way fancy, you can't help but consider how pretentious and, contrastingly, humble the writer must be. pretentious in such a way that he thinks living in a sandy, damp shack is a way to beat writer's block (it's odd, it's rarely a choice people make) and humble in such a way that he accepts and bears with living in a worn house with little complaint (it's admirable, if not a little silly!)
you find yourself in his company late at night when you can't sleep and it's so easy to open up to him because he's kind, he listens, and most importantly, he's not embarassed to admit he's got faults, at least to you. you let him see past your collected facade and into your cracked heart far sooner than you think and elliot doesn't mind at all
harvey
you might be the most mysterious person in town simply because of the way you present yourself. he finds himself always stuttering a little whenever you're around because of the way you watch him, set in a relaxed stance, your gaze flat and cool. later, he realizes that it's your resting face. he wonders about what you'd look like if you smiled-- really smiled
he's touched at the fact that you buy him coffee whenever he had to patch you up-- which is frequently, given your liking for the mines. you're adorable when he gives you general anesthesia. he had run out of local anesthesia and you needed a fair amount of stitches and though you told him that you have a high pain tolerance (stitches are far more painful than you think. i really don't want to put you through that), he insisted and you let him (fine, fine. get on with it, doctor). you had let out several inappropriate jokes under anesthesia and your cheeks had hurt from laughing non-stop
harvey's entranced. there's no other way to put it-- he's bewitched by your bright character hiding under that collected facade. he never pries for your secrets because he's got secrets, too. you like harvey because he's sweet and compassionate and even though he has to put up a firm, professional affectation, he wears his heart on his sleeve.
you see him as a friend at first, all platonic and it seems to be the end of it. but one day, as you hand him a coffee, he laughs and smiles and hands you a coffee just the way you like it. you're falling for him so hard and fast you think someone's put a spell on you that makes you notice the minute expressions on his face and mull over the way he talks to you. you're in love with him-- you can only hope he feels the same way too
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Bets Against The Void Ch3
Well. itâs HERE. sorry itâs a bit short, if I fit in the next events then it would well succeed a reasonable amount of words. about 1500, a few words off. Reblogs fuel me 1000% more than likes. please enjoy and comment any typos ân stuff
my askbox is also temporarily turned back on, for this!! after a few days theyâre closed, and iâll hopefully go back to queuing up a bunch...
This is crossposted on AO3
and for Chapter 1, head here
Chapter 4 is HERE!
and @petrichormeraki Hope you didnât forget about your Whitelist AU :)
Now that they were settled in their boats, Tommy was given a moment to realize where exactly it was he was going. And, oh shit. The builds he could see were bigger than any one solid, finished structure heâs seen on the Dream SMP.
Pockets of strange, purple clumps of spores poked out by the shore, in contrast to the rest of the island. A portion of hte island, too, was covered in the crimson netherrack. It was absolutely insane- Tommy didnât think heâd ever seen buildings quite like them.
â...Holy...Fuck..â He voiced, breathless.
The brunnette woman in the boat beside his frowned, peering over her and Grianâs own boat. âWeâre not exactly a PG server, but I think weâd all appreciate it if you tried to keep your language just a smidge cleaner,â Sheâd passively comment, eyes narrowing on the blond boy who turned to glare at her.
âStress, theyâre teenagers.â Grian would laugh, before the blond would be given a chance to respond. âIâve heard Docâs drunk ranting. Weâre definitely not clean.â
She turned, raising a brow at the dirty blond. âGrian, I havenât heard you say a naughty word, even once!â She chuckled, tilting her head.
âSure,â he remarked agreeably, âbut I was a teenager.â Giving a small, sharp smile, he turned his head back out to sea.
Tommy, huffing with effort as he continued rowing his and Tubboâs boat, felt the fight sizzle out. His defenses dropped, too busy looking at the buildings cluttering the island. Masses of structures, all of varying sizes and designs, were impossible to look away from.
As if remembering suddenly of Tubboâs lack of perpetual vision, he turned, nudging their arm.
Tubbo practically jumped, almost tipping out of the boat. They pulled their arm out of the water, where theyâd been contently dragging their arm along, and tilted their head towards their friend. âHuh? Uh- hey! Sorry. I was spacing out. Are we there?â
âNope,â Tommy shook his head. âBut this island looks insane! Seriously, what the hell? How many of you people are there! What the FUCK is this place!â He gawked, turning back towards the Hermits. Considering Stress only gave an exasperated smile, he didnât feel too bad with his language.
âOur Cowmercial district! Mind the, uh, terrain. Weâre in the middle of handling a.. Disagreement.â Grian chuckled, a wolfish grin sprawling across their face. âJust for the principle, yâknow?âÂ
Tommy stared blankly at the back of Grianâs head, the older Brit unphased.
â..Sure, right. But no! What the fuck! Iâve never seen, like, half of those blocks before in my life! What are those buildings?â He gawked.
The strange, shadowery mansion- intricate patterns and overheads marking each wall, with scales on top. A giant chest! With..Eyes? It was twice the size of the community house! He could see four separate beacon lights! At least!
âTubbo! Thereâs a- a huge ass chest with eyes! And a fuckinâ mansion, and itâs all dark and shit! Is- is that a cloud made out of glass, up there? What the fuck!â The boat was practically rocking as he cried out.
âTommy, weâre gonna fall in, Big Man!â They chuckled nervously, grasping at the wooden walls of the boat. âAre all the buildings huge? I bet they are! I heard Hermitcraft servers always have huge builds!â
âYes, and thereâs SO FUCKING MANY! WHAT THE HELL!â
âYouâll be able to see them in time, donât worry!â Grian chuckled, drawing his boat into the shore. âWe have a lot of builds, weâre almost a year into this world. These are just our shops! Youâre more than welcomed to pick up something if you need it.â He explained breezily, throwing his legs over the sides as he pulled himself to land.
âWeâre sure you donât plan on staying long, and we canât blameâya,â Stress added on, as Grian helped pull her out of the spruce boat. âBut weâre sure thereâs some necessities youâll need.â
Grian beside her nodded, pulling up his Tablet. âI have shirts and hoodies that should fit you guys, and some other Hermits would happily pitch in. We have more than enough resources to house you two.â
Tommy, whoâd already pulled himself and Tubbo out of the boat, slumped, rolling his eyes. âWeâre fine. Thanks.â He tackled the last word on half-hazardly, his lips drawn down into a scowl.
âMate, whenever your serverâs ready, weâre happy to get you back. Or get in contact with your Server Admin now, even. You just need to say the word to X, and heâll take care of it.â Stress looked over the two, her brows pinched as she looked over them.
What in the Sunâs name is happening over there to leave these two so roughed up? She thought idly, noting it in the back of her mind to bring them potions later.
âCâmon, we can get you more situated later, if thatâs fine with you two. You both need to eat, asap.âÂ
Food. Right. Thatâs a thing, Tommy pulled his stares away from the towering structures, naturally slipping his hand back into Tubboâs.
The two Hermits led their way at a slow and even pace, the two teenagers trailing behind. Tommy and Tubbo both were quietly thankful for this. They were less quiet when it came to Tommyâs rambling, incoherent rants from his attempts of describing the District to his friend.
Whatever works to get them on their way, the pair of Hermits agreed, sharing a look.
It was a struggle all of itself, getting them both on track to the bakery. Tommy had poked his head in every building they crossed, with Tubbo going at an increasingly slow pace, trying to allow their Communicator to describe the complex surroundings.
They made it in decent time to the bakery, all things considered.. Tommyâs jaw dropped at the size of it, bright blue eyes surveying the large, detailed replica of a cake.
âWhat the fuck! Thereâs- thereâs so many blocks! It looks crumblinâ and bitten! What shit! Tubbo! Tubbo the bakery is a giant fucking cake! It looks so realistic! Holy fucking Prime-â
âIt smells so good in here, too! Wow! Does this place just sell cake? Is there enough demand, for that?â
âWh- are those shulker boxes! What! Thatâs- thatâs like, seven shulker boxes! Is that all just for the shit for sale??? What!â
Both of the teens were incomprehensible. Neither Stress, nor Grian, could get a word in.
âHey! Guys, both of you, itâs alright, yeah? We have plenty of shulkers. Also, Keralis is..Yeah, probably the richest Hermit, so shulkers for his shop isnât out of the ordinary at all.
All of us have a buncha shulkers. Iâll clear out some of mine, too, for you to have. Itâd make setting up a base much easier, Iâm sure.â
...Everyone has shulkers. And heâd be willing to let Tommy and Tubbo just..Have some? No way. Tommy gave a look towards Tubbo, and he could tell the other was as perplexed at the notion as he.
âYou guys just.. Just have shulkers- I. Yeah. sure. Rooms with diamond armor and fuckinâ elytras lying around..Right.â Tommy took a breath, fist clenched beside him for a moment.
Tubbo, with their hand holding his arm, above his elbow, gave him a reassuring smile before turning generally towards the Hermits direction. âThank you, like- so much?â They chuckled, sheepishly. âWe really donât need, like, anything like that. We- we should be getting back to our world soon. Hopefully- uh, probably.â
Grian frowned, humming. âSure, but I think any Hermit that went even twenty-four hours without working on something, would lose their mind. When you go home, you could give them back. Even if you took them home, I promise that it wouldnât be a big deal.â
The two teens shared a look. The older britâs word may sound sincere, but they both knew better than to blindly believe someone, other than each other. Tommy shot a glare to the man, eyes narrowed.
âYeah, whatever you say.â He scoffed. The dirty blond met his stare, unphased. A relaxed, easy smile remained on their face. Tommy didnât trust it for a second.
Stress had begun opening some of the shulker boxes, exposing the sweets and goods inside to the starved teens. âCâmon, now. If you two want to work on some of that later, you can do that. But youâre with us, right now, and itâs time to eat. Grab whatever youâd like, Loves.â
The brunette teen gasped, tugging at the blond boyâs arm. âCâmon Tommy, do you smell that! Oh Void, this place must be lovely! Thank you for bringing us, uh, maâam! âN sir!â Tubbo beams, their smile lopsided.
Tommy glanced around, towards the candy-and-sweets themed furniture in the dining area. Right. Sure. I can deal with this, for Tubbo.
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[10.50]
â pairing : Han Jisung x fem! reader
â content warnings : smut, fluff, grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, unprotected sex (wrap it up yâall)
â word count : 3.752
â notes : my kinks got worse since the last time you saw me
â notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! Iâm reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome đ
đș GREASE! STRAY KIDS SERIES
Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix // Jeongin
Jisung was so rich it was almost unbelievable. His father owned the majority of the shops and diners in the town you lived in, resulting in him living in a huge mansion with a lot of butlers and maids. Jisung also threw the best parties, had a convertible comfortable car and always had the best weed.
At least, this is what your best friend always said; since all you did was steal longing glances at him from afar, hoping that heâd somehow â magically, take the hint.
«You should come to one of his parties sometimes. I could also introduce to the others Stray Kids!» she said, fixing her lipstick. «Who knows, maybe youâll finally listen to me and become a Pink.»
You giggled, gently nudged your shoulder against hers. «As if!»
«Oh, come on!» she affectionately linked your arms together. «You and me, Pink Ladies! Can you imagine the fun weâd have?»
«Maybe in our next life. Thereâs no way Iâm going back being a Pink.» you sighed, smiling at her as you reminisced your actions of focusing on your cheeseburger. «Iâve tried that, and I definitely didnât like it.» you mumbled, before taking a big bite on your food. Few years earlier, you have been the Pink Lady of another boy in another group, even before Stray Kids became popular.
Long story short? Many - too many, tears wasted on someone who was definitely not worth it.
You friends quickly re-adjusted her position on the red leather couch as you both heard the bells of the Frosty Palaceâs entrance door ring loudly.
âTalk about the DevilâŠâ You thought as your friend waved at Stray Kids, which waved back with loud greetings before heading towards their usual sitting spot.
You both finished your dinner quietly; going back talking about school and you could not help but once again steal some quick glances to the boysâ table. Jisung had always caught your attention, but you did not want to fuel the fire in your friendâs soul, otherwise she would never stop rambling about them.
Sometimes, your stealth glances at Jisung would be reciprocated, and each time your eyes met, you would quickly advert your gaze with cheeks flaming red.
A soft tap on your shoulder caught your attention, and you turned your head to meet your friendâs knowingly smile, her grin erupting around the straw of her milkshake as she softly nudged your thigh with her knee.
«Become a Pink,» she whispered again «I could set you up with Seungmin, heâs tall and-» her speech was interrupted by a waiter which placed a tall glass of strawberry milkshake right in front of you.
Milkshake you definitely did not order, since you already bought yourself to drink earlier.
«I believe there must be a mistakeâŠÂ» you shyly told the waiter «I didnât order for this.»
The waiter politely smiled at you, before shaking his head «Han paid for you.» you furrowed your brows in confusion while you friend shrieked next to you, quickly grabbing your forearm, and the waiter pointed towards the counter with a nod.
Jisung was staring at you, partially leaning against the counter with a smug smile plastered on his face. You were sure you blushed as soon as your eyes met; main reason why you immediately averted your gaze as quickly as you have been burned by a wild flame.
«Sheâll take it. Thank you so much. And also, say thank you to Jisung on her behalf.» your friend quickly answered before you could even process your thoughts and try to answer him that âNo, thank youâ, and the waiter quickly returned to his ministrations without sparing the both of you another glance.
«Han Jisung offered you a drink.» your friendâs voice was somewhere in between an excited shriek and a whisper-yell, her hand still firmly gripping on your arm.
«Itâs⊠Itâs a milkshake.» you clarified, trying to avoid looking in the general direction of the counter, even if you could still feel Jisungâs piercing stare on your skin.
«I donât think you get the point.» she ignored your answer, «Han Jisung never buys girls anything.»
This random and unusual gesture turned into a definitive habit. Days turned into weeks, Jisung would sometimes offer you to drink, sometimes directly pay for your dinner and leaving you a confused, flustered and blushing mess anytime the cashier would say «Han already paid for you.»
Eventually, both your best friend and the rest of Stray Kids got tired about the two of you silently longing at each other from a safe distance, and you found yourself sitting with them.
Hanging around with them was fun; you had to admit your best friend was right. They all looked so incredibly badass but once you got to know them, you realized that they were also so incredibly dumb and funny. You honestly enjoyed hanging out with them.
You and Jisung got closer, becoming those kind of friends acting shy around each other because they are too dumb to make the first move. Jisung was a total sweetheart, despite his looks, and him being so naturally loud and funny but also a genuine listener made your crush for him steady grow each passing day. Jisung also never stopped treating you, despite you telling that it was okay, you could pay for yourself but he would just smile and shrug it off.
You did not exactly mind that, you found that new routine quite relaxing. The thought of confessing your feelings to Jisung sometimes came to your mind and wandered there for quite few time, but eventually, you settled for not making a fool of yourself, since no matter all the times he referred to you as âthe girl I have a crush onâ, you still feared rejection.
«You should definitely come to Jisungâs party, tonight.» you friend told you, bursting into your house. «And by âyou shouldâ, I mean, âIâm going to dress you up and drag you there, if I have toâ»
Something you had witnessed along your long years of friendship was: your friend did not lie.
She did not drag you to the party, but she convinced you to.
You spent the first part of the night enjoying the chill night breeze while sitting on the couches of the houseâs veranda, a blue plastic cup filled with punch and slowly swaying to the rhythm of the slow songs played by Jisungâs jukebox. Someone plopped on the couch right next to you, a familiar and pleasing whiff of cologne invading your senses.
«There you are, angel.» a deep voice said, «I thought youâd never come.» you could feel the fact that Jisung was smiling, even if you werenât looking at him, yet.
«My friend dragged me here.» you stated, taking a small sip from your drink.
«Oh, so you didnât come here to see me?» his voice was filled with disappointment, as he playfully lifted his hand on his heart and pretending to be deeply hurt. You deduced to be already intoxicated by the alcohol because you giggled at him, turning around to finally look him in the eyes.
Jisung was handsome, he had always been, but there was something about him being so close to you that made him look even more breath taking. His hair was neatly styled, his black leather jacket draped around his shoulders and the white shirt he was wearing was so dangerously low cut that you could see his sharp collarbones. You were just about to take notice about how his cologne was so good when you snapped out of your small trance to see him looking at you with his stupid smug smirk and a pleased expression.
âI should really learn how to be subtle,â you thought quickly, quietly sipping from your cup to distract yourself â and having an excuse to look away from his enchanting bronze skin.
«I see my crush is required, then.» Jisung reached out to mumble right against your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your breath hitched for a moment, and you turned around to look at him, your noses almost touching.
«And in what parallel universe,» you took a small pause, licking your lips and noticing him following the movement of your tongue. «Could Han Jisung have a crush on me?» you held his gaze, somehow hoping for him to close the distance between the two of you.
«This one! Science sure works fast these days.» Jisung answered with a sweet smile, before leaning back and getting up from the couch. You looked at him, hoping that he would not notice how dumbfounded you were by his sudden actions as he stood in front of you, offering you a hand.
«Come on,» Jisung nodded towards his entrance door. «Letâs go and have a bit of fun.» with a nod, you smiled, and reached out to take his hand.
You were not new to the world of parties, getting drunk and smoking â after all, you have been a Pink too once, but you never thought you could do it again while actually having fun. Neither you nor Jisung actually got too high or too wasted; you were both slightly tipsy. He would spend the majority of the night with his arm around your hips while you talked with the others â his friends always randomly saying how the two of you would make a cute couple and Jisung immediately shutting them up, or with his hands tightly wrapped around your waist as you danced together.
«Well, angel.» the grip around your waist tightened, as you both slowly swayed to the rhythm of a slow song playing by the jukebox. The room was full of people, naturally drawing your bodies closer to each other. «I would really love to kiss you, right now.» he was speaking right by your ear, so that you could perfectly hear every word he said. You were about to ask him why he didnât do it, when he chuckled before adding, «But weâre too tipsy, and I want to make this right.» you felt his teeth grazing the lobe of your ear, and you instinctively hugged his body a bit closer.
«Why, Jisung.» you said, mirroring his actions, «Do you plan to see me again?»
Thanks to the loud music making each conversation almost inaudible, you kept sharing this secret conversation while hugging each other close. Jisungâs soft breath against your skin suddenly making your knees weak.
«Of course. I plan to take you on a good amount of dates,» you felt him nod, while his right hand travelled upwards from your waist until it tangled itself into your hair. «And fuck you so deep and slow with your head pressed against the mattress until youâd beg me to ruin you.» You shut your eyes close as he almost moaned in your ear the unexpected last part, trying not to get aroused in a room full of people. «But weâll have to talk about this another time.» Jisung slightly parted from you, meeting your gaze.
You were about to stand on your tiptoes and capture his lips when your friend tapped your shoulder, reminding you of the curfew you both had.
Jisung kissed your cheek â dangerously close to your lips, before saying goodbye to the both of you.
The ride back was full of screams and excited squeals because, of course you told your best friend everything that happened earlier.
«He finally asked you on a date? Jisung?» your friend questioned, before excitedly squealing. «I knew it was just a matter of time!» she kept yelping, focusing on the road but also throwing your arm few soft, delicate punches in a rapid succession.
You ran a hand through your hair, giggling at your friendâs behaviour as small; butterflies hovered around in your stomach.
You hated Han Jisung.
Well, it was definitely not true; you hated yourself for spending the entire breakfast daydreaming about him, resulting in you being awfully late for school.
You closed your locker, hastily walking towards your first class. You were alone in the hallways, busy wondering how could you lose time like that, when a hand suddenly reached out and dragged you to the stairs. You were ready to drop you book and kick the person who did it right between his legs when your gaze met Jisungâs apologising eyes.
«Jisung! What got into you?!» you lightly shoved him, your hand on his toned chest; with a scoff, you placed your hand on your heart, in the vain hope for your heartbeat to slow down.
The thing was, both because of the scare and Jisung being so close to you, you didnât think it would happen soon.
The boy adverted his gaze, mumbling a shy «Iâm sorry,» before scratching the back of his head and releasing your arm from his strong grip. «The thing is, I really wanted to talk to you.»
âWhat if he regrets what he did yesterday?â you kept staring at him, silently urging him to go on, and feeling somehow a bit anxious.
«Iâm sorry. For yesterday, I mean.» his voice reached your ears and your stomach sank; unable to meet his gaze, you stared at the floor. «The thing is, I might have said something a bit earlier than I planned to.»
âEarlier?â You furrowed your brows to look at him, confused.
Jisung sighed, heavily. He looked so frustrated, as if you could not understand some simple and obvious concept, when he went on. «I do honestly mean what I said: I really want to take you on dates. I also really want to fuck you into oblivion but, maybe I might have said it a little bit earlier-»
Now, If someone were ever to tell you  that Han Jisung would stand in front of you, ranting about him giving you the wrong impression, youâd never believe them.
Moreover, most importantly, if someone were to tell you that you would interrupt his stupid rant with a kiss, youâd never believe them.
However, there you were, standing on your tiptoes and balancing yourself with a hand on Jisungâs shoulder to softly peck his lips. You giggled at his expression, his eyes wide and his lips in a confused pout, he looked incredibly cute.
«Jisung, trust me, I want the same.» your kind smile was suddenly matched by his, and he leaned down to finally capture your lips in a soft kiss, searching for one another anytime you parted in order to breathe. You didnât quite realise when those soft nibbles and shy kisses while lovesick grins were plastered on your faces turned into you being pushed against the wall with Jisungâs head buried in your neck and his right arm supporting your left leg around his waist, but the presence of his left hand in front of your mouth in order to muffle your whine as he loudly sucked on your jaw brought you back to the cruel reality.
«Jis-Jisung» you stuttered, whimpers blocking the words from falling from your lips as youâd want to, but his hot mouth on your skin was just so sinful and so perfect, you almost ignored the fact that you could be caught anytime and be in trouble. «Class. We-Weâre still at school.»
With a groan, Jisung pulled away from your neck, his lips hovering above yours.
«School literally started two days ago, itâs nothing important.» he mumbled, pushing his body on yours. «Letâs skip. Letâs go to my place, angel.» his eyes blown with lust - mirroring yours, and his boner pressed on your inner thigh made you nod at him without thinking further.
Jisung smiled, parting from you. «And then, letâs go on a date.» he took your hand in his as you scoffed, hiding a smile as you nodded once again.
You quietly and hurriedly made your way out of the school and into his red, shiny car.
«Is it okay to go to my house?» he looked at you, starting the car.
Since when do you ask to a hook-up?» you raised an eyebrow, provoking him.
«Since youâre not a hook-up, angel.»
As your hand reached out to intertwine with his above the gear change, you felt butterflies in your stomach once again, happy with the feeling that the boy that you have secretly stole glances at for quite few months, admitted to have a crush on you.
«You live in a castle, Jisung. This is not a house.» you looked around in awe at your surroundings, as he quickly leaded you to his bedroom.
«Wait, look at this!» you pulled on his hand, forcing him to stop in front of a painting that caught your attention. He sighed - you could even picture him rolling his eyes, and he let go of your hand.
«You can have a detailed tour of my house later, angel.» was all you could hear before, all of a sudden, your perspective of the world turned upside down. Jisung had effortlessly thrown you over his shoulder, and you laughed at his ministrations, softly but repeatedly smacking his butt and repeating a series of «Jisung, let me down!» which you never actually meant in the first place.
He did throw you down, though. On his bed. As you bounced on the fluffy mattress you saw something green fly all around you, some of them even landing on you.
âMoney?â you took a green banknote in your hand, while pushing few others away from your stomach.
«Is there some weird kink I need to be aware of?» you propped on your elbows, throwing few banknotes at a smiling Jisung, which was still standing and towering over you.
He laughed, shaking his head. «I needed to buy something, I forgot the cash I needed on the bed.» his knees now were next to your waist, as he sat on your lap, reaching out to put his hands next to your head, caging you as he balanced his weight.
«And now Iâm lying on them,» you mumbled as his lips attached once again to your jawline.
«Do you think I care about money having wrinkles?» he mumbled, smirking against your skin as he balanced himself on his left hand while his hand ghosted over your frame, his fingers looping in the belt loops of your jeans.
«What about⊠Other stains?» you breathed, your left hand scratching his slightly exposed waist.
«Is there some weird kink I need to be aware of?» the breathless chuckle you felt on your skin made you scratch him even harder out of reflex, and you felt pleased with yourself  as he instinctively hissed and grinded against you.
You never had any particular kink - actually, you had, but you had never considered appealing the idea of being fucked on a bed with a big amount of banknotes scattered under your body.
Yet, there you were. You both left the foreplay at minimum and now, Jisung was thrusting into you, deep and slow while your head was pressed against the mattress, just as he promised the night before.
You learned pretty quickly that Jisung was loud also in bed, and you absolutely loved it. Hearing his moans mixed with the feeling of his breath hitch against your skin as he kissed your spine, the fact that he couldnât keep his hands off of you, and his languid thrusts filling you so perfectly was making that marvellous sensation pool into your abdomen. You whimpered as a particular harsh thrust made you grip the blankets next your head even tighter â furtherly wrinkling some banknotes along, and you felt his firm grip on your hips; Jisung repeated the action before staying still inside you for few seconds.
And again, and again.
He was purposely keeping his movements slow and teasing, so that you could feel every inch of his pulsing length move out of you, just to shove it right back.
As your moans deliciously filled the room, you gave in, whispering the magic words: «Ruin me, Jisung.»
His grip on your waist tightened, as he heard you clench around him with a chocked moan.
«Took you long enough, angel.» he said, with a cocky voice before yanking you upwards by your hair, pulling your back flush against his body. As his thrusts gained speed and intensity, both his hands snaked around your hips: his left one wandered on your chest and pinched your left nipple before firmly gripping your breast in a firm hold, and his right one caressed his way until he pressed his index finger against your clit, trying to match the now messy pace of his thrusts which were making the both of you approach your orgasms.
You turned your head, meeting his lips in a hot, uncoordinated kiss, your right hand locking in his hair with a tight grip and your left handâs nails sinking into his thigh. Jisung came with a loud moan, his hips stilling deep inside of you and instinctively holding you tighter against his body. He kept moving his hand, so that youâd follow him almost immediately later, the sensation of your orgasm spreading inside your body and relaxing your muscles.
You came back to your senses feeling Jisungâs soft kisses on your shoulders, as he slowly slipped out of you, your mixed releases actually staining few banknotes below you. The both of you plopped on the bed, giggling together as green money floated around you once again â since you both threw yourself back on the bed, and Jisung shifted until he was hugging you into his chest, your head resting below his neck and your fingertips delicately caressing his body.
«How about we go to the drive in?» He said, casually, as he played with a strand of your hair.
«Shouldnât we go eat something before that? What time is it?» You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt Jisung reach out for his watch on the nightstand.
«10.50» he said, «Letâs sleep a little bit more.» he tried to roll you around, pouting at you.
«30 minutes, then weâll take a shower and go eat lunch.» you answered dismissively as you let Jisung turn you around, so that now he was the one with his head in the crook of your neck, and you hugged him closer, playing with his hair.
«As you wish, angel.» you felt his soft breath anticipating an open mouthed kiss on your neck, before you both doze off with content smiles.
all works © lettersfromaphrodite
Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories.
I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.
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Travelling Alpha
This was originally gonna be headcanons but then, uhhh...I was writing them and um, I got carried away and since the headcanons read similar to a scenario I just went through them and wrote it out like a scenario properly.
But yay??? This is yet another request off my list completed and my progress is going fantastically! Iâm actually super happy about that if you couldnât already tell haha
Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it and it was different to what I usually write, which made it super fun! Have yourself a great day, be sure to let me know what you think!
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Cheeky Kitsune đŠđ
.
 Eijiro let out a low groan as he stretched his arms up above his head, sore from the uncomfortable way he had slept the night prior; it had been exactly half a year since he had left his old pack so that he could travel and see the world. Six long months of nothing but himself and the wilderness, but after coming from a busy pack life and caring for everyone as the packâs Alpha; it was a hard adjustment to make.
 One positive that he could list was that he found himself more relaxed since leaving. There werenât as many things to stress and worry over, the things that he did need to worry about were easily solved; simple things like food, water and shelter.
 Another would be that like today, he could wander around with little to no care about where he was going or where he would end up at the end of the day; Eijiro could simply enjoy his surroundings. The fresh scent of the surrounding forests, the cool Spring breeze that washed over him every now and then; the peaceful sound of the wildlife going about their day.
 He could enjoy every moment of it without worrying about anything other than himself and that was something he wouldnât trade away, not unless he had a good reason to. This was the kind of lifestyle he could get used to if given enough time.
 Eijiro turned his head to the side as he stopped walking, picking up a sound that he hadnât heard for a long time; the sound of crying. Soft sniffling and hiccups, a sound that no decent Alpha ever took pleasure in hearing.
 Which meant that he would have to investigate it, even if he had been enjoying his morning journey.
 .
 âHello?â
 .
 Eijiro called out curiously, grumbling to himself when there was no reply before moving to follow after the sounds of sobbing slowly; not wanting to startle whoever he might find.
 He found you relatively quickly, discovering you hidden amongst the large roots of an old tree; your sobbing so much louder now that he was standing so close to you, the sound making his chest ache with empathy for you.
 âMissâŠ?â Eijiro moved closer as he spoke quietly, crouching in front of you and causing you to jolt in surprise; wide, teary gaze meeting his own concerned stare. He knew that he shouldnât have approached you like that, without making you aware of him before he moved closer; but it was always harder to resist his instincts on the day of a full moon.
 Eijiro would shift the moment the sun went down, but for now, he had to make do with any actions he made based on instinct alone.
 âW-Who are you?â
 .
 âEijiro KirishimaâŠmiss, whatâs wrong? Why are you crying out here alone? Who are you?â
 .
 He frowned when you averted your gaze, curling up to make yourself look smaller than you already did; it was a bad sign in his eyes. Then again, finding such a beautiful woman out in the wild alone without anyone around was a bad sign in general; packs would usually send people out in pairs, for safety.
 ââŠI didnât wanna be his mateâŠso I was rejected from my pack, they kicked me outâŠall because of himâŠâ Your whimpered out words had his blood run cold, eyes widening in shock despite only having a brief explanation of your situation; though it was hard not to be shocked. To be kicked out because you had rejected someone was ridiculous.
 ââŠWhatâs your name?â He repeated a part of his question, using a gentle tone with you so that he wouldnât upset you more than you already were; even doing his best not to reach out and comfort you as his instincts were calling for.
 â(Name).â He nodded slowly at your response before standing back up to his feet and taking a few steps away from you, giving you the space that he thought you might need; brushing himself off of the dirt that had somehow managed to get on him.
 âWell (Name), how would you like to travel with me? I havenât got a pack at the moment either, so having you around would be great!â
 .
 ~ ~  ~  ~  ~
 .
 You let out a soft whine of effort as you rolled onto your back, stretching out and arching your back; feeling the way your muscles trembled from the action, any soreness you felt from the previous night fading away for a few blissful seconds.
 âMorninâ beautifulâ Eijiroâs deep greeting made you smile as you rolled back over, colliding with his muscled chest and causing his arms to snake around your waist immediately; holding you close to his warm body, showering your neck with feather-light kisses.
 âIsnât it a bit early to start with the compliments Eiji?â You shuddered as you spoke, letting your head lull to the side while he snickered in response to your question; nipping over the bonding mark he had left on you the night prior during the full moon.
 Funnily enough, yesterday had been a full year since you met the protective Alpha that you now called your partner; and you had loved the way you had celebrated it with him.
 âItâs never too early to start telling the truth (Name)â You rolled your eyes at his words, rolling in his embrace to face him; pressing your lips up against his own. Anything to stop his teasing touches to the still-sensitive bonding mark.
 âUh-huhâŠwhatever you sayâ You hummed softly, pulling away from the kiss and letting out a quiet giggle when his head followed after you, eager to continue the morning greeting that you had given him. Though you had other plans.
 âCome back hereâŠâ Eijiro trailed off into a playful growl as you managed to escape his hold, quickly moving about to gather the clothes that you had thrown everywhere the previous night right before sunset; the easiest way to avoid having them shredded to absolute bits.
 âDonât even think about it. That can wait until tonightâŠdidnât you say you had somewhere you wanted to take us?â You glanced down at Eijiro, pulling your clothes on leisurely while he watched your every move; making no move to hide the hunger in his crimson gaze, sending shivers down your spine.
 âYeahâŠright, now that you mention itâ Eijiro paused, sitting up with a quiet groan, reaching back to rub at his sore muscles before getting up to his feet; approaching you despite still being naked himself.
 âWhat would you say if I said I wanted to take us back to my old packâ You frowned at his words, tilting your head to the side while you allowed him to wrap his arms around you; an innocent enough embrace for the moment.
 âYour old packâŠ? Iâm not sure EijiâŠâ He smiled at your hesitance, leaning down to nuzzle against your neck tenderly, a quiet hum of content building in his chest; causing you to relax almost instantly, enjoying the low rumble.
 âAw, come on (Name)âŠlet me take you there! I could introduce you to everyone, plus theyâre bound to love you. I mean, you did manage to steal the heart of their ex-Alpha and thatâs one of the biggest reasons I leftâ
 .
 âWait, what? You wereâŠyou used to be the Alpha of a pack?â
 .
 Eijiro nodded his head in confirmation at your question, rubbing your hips before moving to get dressed; sensing that it might be a good idea if he were dressed.
 âWhen were you gonna tell me?â He shrugged in response to your question, glancing back at you while pulling on the pants he had been wearing yesterday; seemingly confused as to why you seemed to be so surprised about his past.
 âIs it important? Iâm not that man anymore.â You opened your mouth to respond with a sharp remark before deciding better and closing your mouth, shaking your head to answer his vaguely curious question. Eijiro was right, he wasnât that man anymore, so theoretically it shouldnât bother you.
 âNo, never mindâŠalright, fine. I suppose it couldnât hurt to go see your old packâ You sighed out quietly in defeat, soon letting out a squeal of laughter when Eijiro lifted you up into his hands; spinning around with you. A large grin on his features.
 .
 ~ ~  ~  ~  ~
 .
 âSo, youâre the woman my son has fallen for then?â
 .
 You gulped nervously as you stared at Eijiroâs mother with wide eyes, Eijiro himself standing close behind you with his hands on your hips; keeping you in place so that you couldnât run away from the terrifying woman in front of you.
 âYesâŠI um, I suppose that would be me?â You managed a small smile as the rough looking woman continued to stare at you, relaxing only when a kind smile stretched across her crimson stained lips; however, the moment was short lived since his mother reached out and pulled you to her chest.
 She wasted no time with smothering you with her love and adoration, a complete personality swap compared to the stone-faced woman that greeted you when you first arrived with Eijiro a few hours earlier.
 âDonât crush her mum!â Eijiro laughed heartily as he watched the two of you interact together, moving to sit on the nearby couch since there was no longer any need for him to keep you steady in front of his mother.
 âOh hush up Eijiro! Youâve been gone for nearly two years and now that youâre home, youâve brought back this adorable mate! Iâm entitled to be a little excited!â His motherâs reasoning had you laughing along with her, soon returning her loving embrace before retreating back towards Eijiro the moment she released you.
 Even if she didnât scare you anymore, you didnât want to come out of the visit with broken bones; Eijiroâs side seemed like the safest place to be.
 âI told you I was sorry about that!â
 .
 âAnd I told you that you werenât forgiven until you give me grand-babies to cuddle!â
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Toepick!
Bucky Barnes x female reader AU
Summary: Buckyâs a hockey player turned pairs figure skater partner for reader whoâs kind of a pain in the ass. (aka this is a Cutting Edge AU if anyoneâs seen the movie)
Chapter warnings: Cursing, mentions of hockey violence, reader is a brat, Bucky is a sarcastic asshole (just like in the show!)
Author note: Unbetaed chapter, I donât have a taglist for Bucky fics but send me a DM or ask if you want to be added to it Iâll make a taglist for my Bucky fics! Please reblog this and tell me what you think in my askbox!Â
Also thanks to @pisss-offf-ghosttâ for her hockey insight b/c I donât know shit about hockey.
Chapter One
Bucky Barnes sat in a doctorâs office, two weeks after taking a puck to the face in a Winter Olympic game. It had hit him way too close to his eye and Coach Pierce had benched him the rest of the Games.Â
Whatâs worse is that it was his own fucking teammate whoâd given him the injury. Brock Rumlow, their Enforcer, had always had it out for Bucky. God knows why, but maybe Rumlow had never forgiven his NHL team for beating theirs in the playoffs the year before. Or that Bucky had scored the winning goal of that same game.Â
Steve and Sam had always said Rumlow was a bad apple in the NHL and his Olympic spirit sucked too it seemed. So now, he was waiting on news from the doctor, telling him when he could start training for the next NHL season.
The doctor entered the room with Buckyâs file. âWell, doc? When can I get back on the ice?â He asked.Â
The doctor frowned at him and put his x-ray up on the lighted board to show him. âSon, Iâm afraid you wonât be able to play hockey anymore.â He told him frankly. âYou took quite a hit to your occipital bone and it hindered 80% of your peripheral vision in your right eye.âÂ
âWhat?â He asked, unsure if he heard him right.Â
âIâm afraid youâll have to go into retirement from hockey.â He told him, looking at the man with sympathetic eyes. He was a great player, had a lot of years left in him. He had watched that game, this wasnât his fault.
Bucky sat there, shell shocked for several moments before slowly rising and putting his coat on. âThanks doc.â He muttered before finally leaving the office and building. Fucking Brock Rumlow. He had seen the smirk on his lips after heâd opened his eyes from taking the hit to his face.Â
He pulled out his phone and dialed Steveâs number. âHey, meet me at the usual place?âÂ
âEverything okay Buck?â Heâd asked his childhood best friend and now teammate.
âJust⊠Iâll tell you at the bar.â He growled out and then made his way to their favorite haunt. âCall Sam. I have news.âÂ
Thirty minutes later, Bucky was nursing a beer at their favorite New York bar. Sam and Steve stared at him, shocked. âSo what, now you have to retire? Thatâs bullshit man.â Sam shook his head.Â
âYou think I donât know that?â Bucky growled at his teammate. âMy publicist wants to make an announcement soon.â He told them. âBut I told her to hold off. I want some time to just⊠Absorb this.â He ran his hand through his hair frustratingly.Â
Bucky loved skating, how could he give it up? And Brock Rumlow gets to just keep playing? What a load of bullshit.Â
âRumlow should be fined for that shit he pulled on you at the Games.â Steve shook his head.Â
âYou really think being fined is what he deserves? Everyone knows it was a dirty move but Pierce is his coach in the NHL, heâs not gonna do shit about it.â Sam reminded Steve.Â
It was true, even the announcers had called it a dirty shot, and everyone who followed the NHL knew that Brock Rumlow had it out for Bucky Barnes. But Rumlow was Pierceâs guy and he wasnât going to do anything to his player to jeopardize the next season of the NHL.Â
âSpeak of the devil.â Sam whistled out and Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Rumlow entering the bar with his flavor of the month on his arm. Some up and coming model or something. Not that any of them kept track anymore of them.Â
âHey boys! Howâs the post-Olympics life treating you? As good as me?â He winked at his newest companion. âSheâs a model.âÂ
âShocking.â Sam snorted from behind his beer. Smirking when Rumlow shot him a dirty look.Â
âSo Barnes, howâs the eye?â Rumlow asked him casually, as if he hadnât given him the very injury that now forced Bucky into early retirement.
Buckyâs grip tightened on his bottle. âItâs fine.â He ground out and gave him a hardened stare. It was true, physically he felt fine. But, he was about two seconds away from beating Rumlow to a pulp though. Hell, Steve and Sam would probably help him if he asked. But he also didnât want any added press than the impending âearly retirementâ announcement in the coming days.Â
âLook man, sorry about that. Guess the puck just got away from my stick, you know?â He said easily.Â
Holy shit, he was really just going to pretend it wasnât his fault? Guess he shouldnât be surprised.Â
âYeah, you seemed real torn up about it.â Steve snapped at him. âThe whole hockey world knows you have it out for Buck.â All four men, stood. All imposing figures as hockey players. âAnd everyone knows that was a dirty shot you took. The Olympics are supposed to be about coming together but you just used it for your own personal gain. Youâre a disgrace.â Steve told him.Â
âYou letting your pals stand up for you Barnes? Whatâs the matter? Too chicken shit to say anything yourself?â Rumlow taunted him.Â
Bucky stepped closer to him, almost chest to chest with the Enforcer. âNope, I just know youâre not worth my time. You never have been, not even on the ice.â After several tense moments, Bucky finally stepped back. âI gotta go. I have a call to make. Iâll talk to you two later.â He looked at Sam and Steve before leaving some bills on the table for his beers and he purposely bumped into Rumlow before leaving the bar.Â
Once he was safely in his Brooklyn apartment, he called his publicist. âMel? Hey, letâs justâŠ. Make an announcement. Tomorrow. Just get it over with.â He told her. âThereâs no point in delaying it.âÂ
âSure thing, weâll just say youâre mulling over your post-hockey playing options. Maybe take a year off and figure out what you want. Book deals, coaching job, hell even a sports commentator.âÂ
âYeah. Iâll think about it, Mel. Thanks.â He hung up and tossed his phone on the counter and sighed.Â
Fucking Brock Rumlow.Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âWhat part of locked arms donât you fucking get?â You snapped at your latest partner âauditionâ as you got up off your ass from being dropped again. âWhere in the hell are you finding these idiots Maria?â You snapped at your coach as you skated away from the latest guy. âYouâd think none of them knew a simple lift.âÂ
Maria Hill, your coach for several years now was at the end of her rope. Youâd rejected partner after partner for the past month and a half after youâd parted ways with your Olympic partner, from a disastrous showing at the Winter Olympics.Â
âProbably doesnât help that you berate them before they even get their skates on.â She called from the side of the rink as Tony Stark, your guardian since you were fifteen years old (although you were in your twenties now and didnât need a guardian anymore) and practically your big brother, entered with his five year old daughter Morgan in his arms.Â
âHowâs it going?â He asked.Â
âYouâre insane.â Your latest pairs auditioner told you as he hastily removed his skates and shoved his feet in his sneakers and grabbed his bag. âGood luck finding someone willing to put up with the ice princess.â He snorted and left.Â
âThat good huh?â Tony asked with a sigh and watched you skate around the private ice rink on their property.Â
âI canât help that theyâre all idiots.â You told him and Maria sighed, rubbing her temples as Morgan giggled at your comment.Â
âYou know, unless you work with any of these guys and Maria. Youâre going to have to go to singles skating.â Tony warned you, knowing you hated singles skating. It always felt too lonely for you out on the ice alone. You had trust issues since you were a kid. Which was a double edged sword because you also had trouble trusting partners to not let you down.Â
âAlright, letâs just call it for the day. I have some calls to make for some more options.â Maria told you as you continued to skate. She turned to Tony. âTalk some sense into her. I donât have many options left.â She muttered and then left.Â
Morgan sat at the edge of the rink putting her skates on to get ready for her private lesson. âIce Princess, come on⊠Work with me.â Tony called to you.Â
You shot him a glare at the nickname but skated over to him, stopping promptly and showering his legs with ice. âYes?â You asked him innocently.Â
âDonât give me that shit. Whatâs your deal? Youâve rejected nearly eight perfectly good skaters in the past almost two months. And always over stupid shit.â He told you. âTheyâre either not strong enough, not fast enough, not graceful enough. None of which have been true.âÂ
You wanted to curse back at him but knew Morgan was beginning to repeat everything and Tony was being hushed and you really didnât want to hear Pepper ask why Morgan learned a new curse word from you. âIâm just particular, thatâs all.â You defended yourself.Â
âIs that the word weâre using?â He snorted at you. âI know you have trust issues because of what happened. But you canât keep using that excuse for skating. Not all those men are going to let you down. But they will if they pick up on your attitude and tension. You need to start giving some of them an actual chance.â He glanced over at Morgan who was starting to warm up on the ice before her lesson. âJust⊠Think about it, okay? And youâll bring Morgan to the house after her lesson?â
You sighed and nodded at him. âYeah okay, fine. Iâll think about it. And yes, Iâll stay here during her lesson.â You promised as you got off the ice and changed shoes while Morgan started her lesson.Â
âThank you. Dinnerâs at six.â He reminded you and kissed Morgan goodbye before leaving for a meeting.Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maria Hill was looking over all the options she had on her desk. None of them would be able to take any of the shit that you were dishing out. She needed someone who could dish it right back to you and who could skate. âJesus this is a nightmare.â She muttered to herself.Â
âMight have a suggestion for you if youâre interested in hearing it and going to meet with him.â Nick Furyâs voice came from her office door. Nick was the trainer for you. Responsible for keeping you in shape and healthy.Â
âYeah?â She asked him curiously and leaned back in her chair.Â
Nick walked over to the television and turned it on, turning it to the sports network talking about Bucky Barnesâ retirement and what his options were now. The news had been out for a week now and everyone was speculating what he was going to do now.Â
âBarnes? You expect me to get a hockey player to be her new partner and not have her throw another fit?â She asked incredulously.Â
âHear me out Hill.â Fury told her and sat across from her. âHeâs strong, a phenomenal skater. Actually graceful even in hockey. And, he wonât take any of her shit lying down. Everything else, you can teach him.â He mused with a shrug. âBesides, rumor has it that he wants to keep skating. Sure, this ainât hockey but itâs better than nothing.âÂ
Nick had made several good points. He was a great skater. And he was disciplined. It meant that he would stick to any regime of training and skating they threw at him.Â
âShe wonât like this.â She told him bluntly.Â
âDoes she like anything anyway?â He countered with a snort.
He had a point. You hadnât liked any of the partners theyâd brought you till now. So throwing Barnes into the mix wasnât going to make it much worse.Â
âFine. Letâs go talk to him.â She relented.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âYou want me to what?â Bucky asked Maria and Nick. The two of them sat across from him in his Brooklyn apartment. Staring at them incredulously.Â
âWe heard you wanted to keep skating. And while this isnât hockey, weâre training someone who wants Olympic gold just as much as you do.â Maria told him. âIâve seen you skate. Youâre talented as hell and strong.âÂ
Bucky looked back and forth between the two of them, expecting this to be some kind of joke. âWhatâs the catch?âÂ
âNo catch. Youâll be paid, thereâs a guest house at the Stark estate for you if the audition goes well. So you can live and train and not have to commute. Youâll be well paid.â Nick told him as he casually leaned back in his seat.Â
Bucky snorted. âIâve been doing this long enough to know that thereâs always a catch.âÂ
Maria and Nick exchanged looks before looking back at him. âShe can be⊠Difficult to get along with.â She told him carefully.Â
âSo sheâs a pain in the ass.â He clarified flatly and snorted again. âWouldnât be the first time Iâve had a pain in the ass on my team.â He muttered to himself.Â
âSo youâll come try out?â Maria asked him curiously. âLook, I know you donât take any shit from anyone. So you and her might work because you can dish it out. You wonât put up with her attitude.â She explained.Â
Bucky considered his options. He didnât want to stop skating. And itâs not like there were any open coaching positions currently. And he sure as shit didnât want to write a memoir or work for ESPN while all his buddies were still skating. This was something for him. Plus heâd get to work with some hot girl instead of staring at Rumlowâs ugly face everywhere he went.Â
âWhenâs the tryout?â He finally asked.
Bucky Barnesâ fic taglist: @pisss-offf-ghosttâÂ
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