Tumgik
#i saw his name trending and i clicked on it and saw a little figure and i thought ‘hey that looks cool’ so i click on the tweet and. i scrol
forcedhesitation · 4 months
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this undeniably has to be one of the worst opinions I've seen about this season. like out of the plentiful failures season 4 had... you really couldn't choose one to talk about? max's mental health was one of the only things that I felt season 4 handled pretty damn well.
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I do think it could have been better written, yes. the ending of her arc in season 4 was....insulting at best.
but overall? the show does a great job of addressing that max actually hated billy (she literally fucking admits to wishing for his death) and that her grief is more complicated than just missing a person. because she wasn't missing a person! she was ultimately glad billy was gone. but even in death, he torments her.
she watched a person she grew up with be brutally murdered by some fleshy abomination, RIGHT in front of her. her shitbag step father bailed on her and her mother after billy died, forcing them to move to the trailer park. her mother abuses alcohol and is never home because she's always working so they can afford to live in the trailer park. her friend group has been split in two by the byers moving away, which took el away from her too. she doesn't know how to reach out to lucas, deep down doesn't feel she deserves his love & concern, despite lucas' best efforts (vecna literally taunts her with lucas turning on her at the final confrontation). she wished so badly to have someone like steve in billy, but she knows that billy would never be that person. he was the complete opposite & she can't just have steve in his place. she mourns the brother she never had. she is devastated by the way billy still hurts her, even after he's gone.
she's what. fourteen??? when this all happens?
like the death of an abuser is never so simple as "hooray! I am so very joyous now that the source of my pain is gone!" the damage an abuser inflicts on you is not some cut to the skin that can be healed and one day forgotten. it's so much more tortuous than that. especially for a child.
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xumoonhao · 2 years
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why did i need to see a sasuke figurine w/his dick out when i opened up twitter to clear my notifications 😑
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stateofcharles · 2 years
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am I still not good enough? - CL16
pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader
word count: ~ 1,9k
warnings: body insecurities, self-loathing, past toxic relationship(s), hurt/comfort
summary: Your first public appearance as Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend only produces loads of nasty comments from the press, causing demons from your past to resurface. Your boyfriend then reminds you why he loves you.
a/n: title from Little Mix’s “Good Enough���, sorry for the sensitive topic but this song has been stuck in my mind lately and I had to write something about it. remember you are all beautiful, never let someone bring you down cause your body is perfect the way it is, you’re valid and you deserve to be loved for who you are <3
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09:00
You woke up in the unfamiliar hotel room, Charles snoring next to you. Sunshine was entering through the curtains and hitting you on the face. You stretched your arms, carefully not to hit your boyfriend, and then picked the phone from the nightstand. You immediately noticed some messages from your cousin, but what impressed you the most were the countless notifications from all social media you had. 
After thinking for a while, you decided not to worry too much about them: the previous night you had participated with Charles to a movie premiere he had been invited to, making your first appearance as a couple in doing so. You had imagined the press would go insane: Charles Leclerc had been probably the most talked-about bachelor in the previous 3 years, and the fact that he was now committed was certainly some front-page news.
You also expected a lot of new followers along with many, many messages and comments from his fans, either congratulating you or insulting you for stealing their man. You knew that, you had discussed this situation multiple times with your therapist and you thought you were ready. You couldn’t imagine what you were about to discover. 
Having chosen to ignore social media, you opened your cousin’s texts and you immediately frowned at the sight of her cryptical words.
Y/N pls i beg you DON’T OPEN ANY SOCIAL TODAY
do it for yourself 
love you and call me asap <3
Curiosity was eating you alive. Your cousin for sure had the best intentions, but could she really expect you not to do anything? Especially after having told you such things? You were a mere human being in the end.
You decided to start from Twitter. Your homepage seemed normal, nothing unusual. You checked what was trending then. Charles’ name was #1, and right below was “Charles Leclerc girlfriend”. You clicked, still unaware of what was waiting for you.
The first tweet you saw was from TheSun but many similar ones from other gossip websites followed, clearly riding the wave. The words hit you at 200 mph: those weren’t just insults from some obsessed fans, that was much more, it was everything you had tried not to think about.
Charles Leclerc shows off his new girlfriend at movie premiere and never reduces the grip on her hips as they pose for photos on the red carpet: was he trying to reduce those gross love handles on her hips?
Your eyes immediately filled with tears: your biggest nightmare had come back.
When you had met the stylist who dressed you for the event, you had been left a bit startled by her choice: a baby blue three-piece suit, which exposed part of your abdomen. A shining silver pair of stilettos to complete the outfit.
It was truly mesmerising, but as soon as you tried it on you were filled with doubts since the trousers, being quite tight-fitting, emphasised a lot your waist area.
Your body had always been like that: healthy and fit, but with some fullness on your hips and thighs that you had never been able to burn and that had only increased with all the stress you had to bear in that last period. You would go to the gym every week, follow a precise workout and diet, but yet no major improvements had happened.
Everything had changed when you and Charles had started dating: ever since the first day he had never commented on your figure - unlike other ex-boyfriends, who apparently never failed to remember you how fat you were - and when you had finally opened up about your insecurities, he comforted you saying that you were perfect like that, you didn’t have to listen to what some bored and stupid people had to say about it and you swore him you would try. 
Though in that moment it was almost impossible for you to be faithful to that promise. You were really trying not to dwell on some shitty article written by pathetic people, but the doubts you had almost completely buried were surfacing, again. 
You didn’t want to cry but it seemed your mind didn’t agree with you.
You started having flashbacks of all the slurs your exes had thrown at you and of all the times they had humiliated you, even in front of your own friends and family. You covered your ears with your palms but the voices in your head were louder and louder.
Look at you, oh my god aren’t you ashamed?
Such a horrible body, thank god we have the light down when we are in bed.
What’s this fat? What are you, a pig?
I bet I could bring you to the butchery, they’d know what to do with you.
You should be grateful I haven’t broken up with you yet.
I can’t believe your beautiful face belongs to this shitty body.
You already go to the gym? Well, PUT. MORE. EFFORT. 
You didn’t realise you were crying and screaming non-stop until you saw Charles awake beside you, his face showing pure concern. Though you couldn’t stop, those insults were playing in your head over and over again. At some point you were exhausted and you screamed at the top of your lungs, “SHUT UP!” 
Charles immediately lifted up, just in time to catch you as you threw yourself in his arms, your sobs only louder, more and more uncontrolled. 
He held you closer trying to calm you down, but every effort he made seemed useless, so he just decided to wait. He couldn’t figure out what was going on: he had been woken up by your crying, but when he opened his eyes he realised the situation in front of him was much worse than he had thought. 
Then he saw your phone, Twitter still opened on it and he caught a glimpse of what you were reading. That was when realisation hit him. 
It was the first time he witnessed you crying because of this, but it wasn’t the first time he had to deal with you during a panic situation.
He carefully moved you on his lap, placed your head on his bare chest so that you could hear his heartbeat and then he lay down again but hugging you tight and bringing you down with him. 
It took a while, but your sobs eventually died down. You sniffled and then looked at Charles for the first time that morning. When you saw his worried face you felt almost guilty, but the boy quickly started leaving short kisses all over your face and you couldn’t help but giggle at the tickling sensation.
He then looked proud of himself, for being the person who had managed to make you laugh after such an unpleasant crying spell.
You could read in his eyes that he wanted to ask you what had just happened, but at the same time you could see that he didn’t want to be rude or - even worse - make you cry again. 
You sat up, he followed you immediately. You sighed heavily and started speaking, your voice shaky, “I’m sorry for what you’ve just witnessed but-” you threw a glare at the suit, on a coat hanger visible through the opened closet door, “I really loved yesterday, and my suit, and you were fantastic, but-” you tried to calm yourself down, not wanting to have another crisis and Charles noticed it, so he started rubbing small circles over the top of your hand.
“They made me hate myself, my horrible body and my stupid suit and I know I don’t have to give them the attention they’re seeking but it’s stronger than me.” You let some silent tears fall from your eyes.
Charles promptly wiped them away, “Do you want to tell me what they said, ange?”, his voice a bare whisper.
Reluctantly, you nodded, knowing that you somehow had to say those words out loud in order to move on. “They pointed out that… you know that yesterday you always kept your hands around my waist and hips on the red carpet? Well they said you were trying to-” you lowered your voice, ashamed of what you were going to say, “reduce my gross love handles.”
You had done it. You had said it, there was no going back. 
Charles’ expression was startled. You could sense he was going to get angry and you feared you couldn’t control him. 
Instead he took a deep breath and then left a long kiss on your scalp.
“You know they’re just a bunch of idiots, right? You know I love your body and I adore your love handles, there’s nothing gross or wrong with them, they’re part of you and of your unique beauty and I would never change them or ask you to do so.”
You knew it, though your insecurities didn’t leave you. “But there are so many beautiful girls out there with perfect bodies and then there’s… me. I have nothing special, I don’t even know why you still put up with me and you haven’t cheated on me yet with one of them. I’m not worthy, of you, of your love and affection.”
“Stop hurting yourself Y/N, you are worthy, you are enough. I know it’s difficult for you, but you have to believe me. There’s no one I’d want to be with more than you. I asked you to be my girlfriend and not some model, and that’s because I love you. Do you remember when we met for the first time? Your brother’s birthday party?”
You nodded, other tears menacing to come out at hearing your boyfriend’s words.
“Well,” he continued, “I loved you from the very first moment. I loved everything about you, from the way you scrunch your nose when you laugh, to the sparkle in your eyes when you see a puppy. From your beautiful hair when you collect them in that messy bun, to how you stretch in the morning when you’re still half-asleep. And I venerate your love handles,” he lowered his face to whisper in your ear, “I love holding them when we’re making love and I love leaving my fingerprints on them.”
You set those tears free, unable to control yourself. Charles hugged you again and you whispered to him ‘Je t’aime’ over and over again, while he answered every time ‘Je t’aime encore plus’.
After what felt like an eternity you untangled the hug and took a look at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 11:20.
“When do we have to leave?” You asked him. Deep down you were afraid to leave the small bubble you had just built in that hotel room, but you knew you had a flight to attend.
“Our flight is scheduled for 3pm, but it’s my private jet, I can ask them to delay it if you need to.” His loving gaze was straight in your eyes, but you realised you couldn’t ask him to do it.
“It’s fine Char, I just need some minutes to pull myself together, then we can go to have lunch in that restaurant you told me and lastly we head to the airport.”
“Are you certain? If I tell my pilots we had a mishap they’ll understand, especially if I pay them extra.” Sweet boy, he was always so caring.
“No babe, I’m fine and I have to come back to reality.” Your tone was determined this time.
“Are you sure you can face it? I understand if you need more time.” His face was still concerned, but you were ready.
“Just hold my hand Charles, and then I’ll be able to rule the world.”
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srjlvr · 2 years
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𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍
. . ҂ You as their favorite artist talking about them on vlive & their reaction ! . . ҂
. . ҂ Genre: fluff ! . . ҂
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━ Heeseung !
Hes not the type to watch your vlives, he’s probably the type to see some parts on twitter or either instagram- and he probably saw it first on twitter.
He just froze in his place and watched the part in a loop.
Hee logged out and stopped working for some minutes.
He probably dies inside out of happiness and excitement.
“Enhypen’s Heeseung ? Oh !! He’s a great artist, no wonder everyone called him ace in I-land !! I really enjoy his voice and hopefully he’ll upload a cover to one of my songs” You giggled at your own words. You knew that your fans will get crazy and make this part of the vlive trending, and it really did.
━ Jay !
His members were the first ones to gossip about it probably and he’ll act all cool about it.
On the inside he was jumping and celebrating about it.
Goes to twitter. Saves this part of the vlive . and watches it on loop .
While watching he’ll probably giggle and wiggle his legs like a little child.
“My favorite artist ? Ah it’ll probably be Enhypen’s Jay, his vibes give me good vibes as well and I saw how he played his guitar once and it was really awesome” You nodded and continued to answer your fans’ questions.
━ Jake !
He is 100% the type to watch you vlives and enjoy every second of them.
He was zoning out for some seconds until he heard his name coming out of your mouth.
Looks at his screen for like half an hour in shock until he let’s out a squeal out of excitement.
Goes around the house saying like ‘YN talked about me suck it losers !’.
“My thoughts about Enhypen’s jake ? He’s a good guy, he looks like everyone’s type honestly, I would really like to be friends with him, he seems like a real good friend” You answered truthfully, not giving a thought about you fans shipping you and him.
━ Sunghoon !
Okay hear me out, this boy probably stalks your fans accounts so of course, he figured that out from one of your fans account.
Sunghoon stopped working for like a half day just to proceed what you said about him.
Goes around the house with a wide, wide smile and teases everyone like ‘Has YN said something about you ? Cuz they did say something about me’
Watches it at least twice a day, or even sometimes more.
“Give you a story from Hybe building ? Uhhh, I once bumped into Enhypen’s Sunghoon accidentally and he was pretty cool about it, he seems like a cool guy, i’ve been a fan of him ever since i first saw him on I-land” You were thinking about whether you should say the last sentence or not, but you trust your fans enough to let them hear the truth.
━ Sunoo !
It was probably while he was listening to one of your albums, and someone uploaded to twitter something like ‘YN talking about Enhypen’s Sunoo !’
Quickly clicked on it and widened his eyes.
Looked at the screen for a some time while the video was playing.
Jumped around the house, shared the video with his members and forced them to watch it.
“Someone I would like to meet ? Probably Enhypen’s Sunoo, he gives me sassy vibes and i LOVE it ! He also seems cheerful and cute and exactly my type” You winked after saying that and giggled, returning your look to the comments and search for new questions.
━ Jungwon !
He was just getting into your live and you just finished answering a question, the next question you started talking about him and he has never been more focused in his entire life.
His members probably teased him about it and he got hella shy but his smile never left his face.
Through the whole day this boy was watching this specific part of the vlive again and again.
Was listening to your songs ALL DAY.
“How was my school today ? It was fun ! I’m classmates with Enhypen’s Jungwon and we’re pretty good friends ! He gave me banana milk today and helped me with my studies, totally made my school experience into a better one” You proudly said with a smile.
━ Riki !
His members sent him the video and as soon as he saw your face he opened it and heard you talking about him.
His heartbeat went up so fast he could’ve swore he was going to die.
Has heart eyes for the rest of the day and probably for the few coming days.
Keeps spamming his members with this video and talking about you.
“I was trying to learn some Japanese this other day and I was having some difficulties and exactly when i needed help, Enhypen’s Riki came, he was searching his members in one of Hybe’s rooms and checked where I was- anyways ! I asked for some help from him and he really did help me, I was having so much fun with him, i’ll definitely do it again with him” You excitedly told your fans after them asking you how did you learn a bit Japanese.
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Notes !
I noticed y’all like Enhypen x idol reader so here you go! another idea of mine, please tell me you enjoyed it !!
Thank you so much for reading ! I really appreciate it ! please make sure to check my other works on my m.list if you enjoyed this one as well !
M.list
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liwen-san · 2 years
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Ran haitani x reader
Part:3
Fluff
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━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
" he's late " I tapped my foot on the hard concrete floor while looking at my watch.
" who is ? " I turned around to see man with a mask covering his face in front of me . The only noticeable feature I can see are his eyes .
All the people that is going to be in the meeting has to wear a mask to protect their identity, so no one can sell them out to the cops.
" Mr.haitani I assume ? " I said scanning him from head to toe. Making sure is was him. We never met so i don't know. To be honest I never met the bonten exclusive at all except Mikey and I think sanzu.. ? this if the first time I'm going to meet one. All that I can say about Mr.haitani is he's tall , has a nice figure and purples hair with black locks.
" strange... Why does it feel like I saw those pair of eyes before ?" I mumbled to myself while I noticed he has purple hair with black locks . Is it me or is it a trend to have you hair dye in the color of purple and black ?
" is miss L/n done looking at me ?" he grinned snapping me out of my thoughts
" how do you even know it's me ? " I questioned him
" well I can tell its you "
" how can you tell when you never seen me before. For all I know , is that you most be really stupid for looking at someone and can tell who they are " but he just let out a low chuckle
" your name is y/n l/n . Age 27 years old .The CEO of the most successful and famous xxx company. Lives at xxx area and owns a expensive villa , She lives alone and is a bad cook so she hired a chef , also a maids , butlers , Gardners and a house keeper " my eyes go wide as I hear information about me being spilled by this man mouth as if my eyes couldnt get any wider he continues to tell everything about me
" and she currently dating a 30 year old man from a coffee shop name xxxxx about a week-" he got cut off by hearing a clicking sound . I point my gun at him . The gun was hiding under my dress
" feisty aren't ya ? " he smiled like his life isn't being threatened
" how did you know all of this? " he just put his hands up and back up a little
" wow, wow there, I'm just simply answering you're question " he said in defense.
" well then answer my last question." it is true he was just simply answering my question , but I know know how he got that much information about me. Or am I just being foolish , he is a bonten exclusive after all and bonten is no joke.
" well that a secret " even with the mask I can feel he's smiling behind that mask . " what ? I did answer youre question. " lowering the gun and putting it back at it place I walked past him. He turned around and I stop at my tracks
" for some who knows everything about me is pretty slow at reading people moves. Let's go we don't want to piss off your boss by showing up late."
" well I thought you were about to take my life. What happened to the feisty miss L/n ? I like that side of you better " he said in a flirty sing song tone
" well I would have killed you but I'm not stupid. If I kill you now I'll lose this chance to get my hands on million dollars business deal ."
" how cold of you. And here I thought you liked me " I scoffed
" don't you know that I'm dating someone ? "
" oh that cafe boy employee ? Ha. I'm way much better then him sweet heart . Better date me then him" I just let out a half hearted laugh .
" sorry but I'm not interested in your ass. Let alone go on a date with you. I'm a loyal person and don't want to betray my partner. " it might be an offensive comments but the man in front of her can't help but feel warm inside.
" Anyway let's go. Where did you park your car ? " I walk to the direction where I think he came from
" oh you'll be the death of me someday "
" did you say something ? "
" the car is parked at the corner of the street"
★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰
" so do we have a deal ? " Mikey said " or do you have something else in mind ? " sitting next to him I stood up and place both palms on the service table.
" yes actually, I'll give you 100 million but instead of 150% return, I want 250% in return " I offered my option
" you most be joking. That's 250 million two and a half times more , you are making a mistake woman " I see the old man across talking back to me
" you know you already made a mistake by working with bonten " I said and turn to Mikey slowly nodding his head in agreement as a small smile crept on his face.
" but dont you think your being greedy, woman-"
" well how does 300% sound ? "I hear his lazy voice talking to me
" then do we have a deal miss Ln " he stood up and offered his hand to shake which took me my surprise and everyone Including the Bonten exclusive
" deal " I shook his hand.
" now that this is settled, let's get this mole out " Mikey looked at his men with a dark expression. I can see them nod and close all the exist and holding a gun.
" a mole ? " the men in the meeting room said
" that's upsurge ! "
" none sense ! "
" why would anyone betray bonton "
A * bang * was heard , it was the pink haired male with a very simple mask who shot the warning and I could tell it was sanzu
" shut the fuck up, will you , you noisy little piece of shit . We won't let one of you bastared leave until we find who the rat is. " the male said
Everyone stood still none of them dare to move . Feeling someone behind me I turn and it was Mr haitani. Wrapping his hand around my waist
" what do you think you're going ? " I said giving glare urging a chuckle from him
" nothing much." I just signed as he pull me back from the group as the men argued who the mole is.
" so the reason why we are wearing a mask is for the mole not to know our identity. Because the cops will be here any moment now. Isn't it right haitani ? "
"yup" he said while tighten his grip on my waist and walks toward his colleagues
" I suggest you put your hand back in place " I glare at him and he quickly pull his and away and up as a sign of surrender
" the cops will be here any minute I suggest you bring miss l/n to safety " I heard
" like I don't already know that " I turn to Mr haitani with a confusion
" what? Shouldn't we look for the mole ? For all you know I could be one "
" you could be but we all know you aren't " I see the long purple haired male said
" wow does bonten really trust me that much? " I said in disbelief
" if you don't want to lose that trust don't break it " I see the silver head talk through his mask
" i-* bang* I got cut of with a loud explosive and smoke bomb was thrown
" shit I thought the cops was going to be here after five minutes! "
" go ! Go ! go! Don't let them ascape " I can hear them say as they also fire gun shots
I cough trying to cover my face . Feeling someone pulling me out of harm's way
" get down ! " he ducked my head as a bullet barely missed me.
" Don't you think you should be careful !? " I yelled
" aw are you worried for me ? " he said in a teasing tone
" I don't think this is the time for jokes Mr haitani " I said while he guide me to a secret back door
" over their ! Captured them ! We can't let them escape ! " they start firing toward us one of the bullet hit Mr haitani mask making it crack
" be careful !" I said concert and worry
" tch. " he pulled out a gun and fire in to the police officer making him fall down . The rest of the members also attacked them. Even though we are out numbered they still have a good lead .
" stay here, I'll be back " Mr haitani said hiding me in the corner of the room taking his jacket off and putting it on me
" you know that we aren't shooting a kdrama right , so no need for this " I said but he just shrugs
" worth the shot-"
" behind you ! " I said as I spotted the cops behind him ready to shoot, which he did and broke his mask as it falls down and also manage to cut Mr haitani right cheeks.
" are you okay ! " I said as I run in front of him making me go wide eye
" .....Ran....? " he just pulled me to his chest and continue shooting the cops
It all maken some sence now. That who he know about my personal life but why?
Why did he hide this from me ?
What am I saying?
He also doesn't know I was working with bonton
Or does he ?
But why was he working at that coffee shop?
Was it just a cover up ?
Then heat rush up to my face as I thought about what I said earlier. As I pest my face further in his chest to let my frustration and embarrassment out making chuckle a bit
" hey that tickles sweets. " he said still holong my small figure to his.
For someone as lanky as him he has a really tone body also wears the best cologne
࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇
" sit still will you? "
" but it hurts ! "
" it be'll over soon I promise "
" then do it quickly ! "
" sounds like you guys are fucking " sanzu said as I place the cotton swap away and place a purple bandage to Ran face
" oh shut up , will you can't you see I'm having a moment here? " Ran said
" so you are yn right ? "
" yes " I look at him
" I heard a lot about you from my brother " I looked at him
Brother...? Does he mean-
" that's rindou . My younger brother "Ran said
" thats takeomi, kokoni, mochizuku, kukucho and you already know sanzu " Ran point to everyone around the room
They all greated me and asked questions
" and this is my girlfriend y/n L/n , so keep your hand off her , she already mine he said pulling by the waist making me sit at his lap " kissing my neck and looking at his colleagues
╬╬═════════════╬╬
Shopping for clothes at the the malI , going to one of the shops heard someone calling my name
" y/n ! how are you ? I haven't seen you for a long time ! " I looked at the women with a confusing look
" don't you remember me ? Its me yuri ! " she pointed to herself
" oh hey yuri " I wave at her
" so.... Who are you? "Yuri said
" I'm good thanks for asking " I said with a smile until she commented making my smile fall.
" are you still single "
" don't tell me youre still in love with my husband . I'm am truly sorry for stealing your boyfriend back their " she cover her smile
" is not my fault for him to fall out of love with you . Thanks to my sweet charm I can have anything I want-"yuri got of by the man behind me
" are you done love ? " he kisses my neck and cheeks making me giggle
" stop it tickles , love " I said back to the purple head male
" who's this ? " Ran said looking at yuri
" she's ....she's just a boyfriend stealer " I said
" oh really to bad . I'm already you husband and the father of this child " he slide his hands to my stomach revealing my baby bump
" you're pregnant ?! " yuri said and we just walk away
Then i hear yuri phone ring
" hello taka? What's wrong ? " yuri said in a sweet voice
" why haven't you signed the divorce papers yet ? "
" I already told you I won't divorce- taka? Taka ! " yuri just threw her phone to the ground.
" come on let's go , love " I hummed at agreement
❛ ━━━━━━・❪ ❁ ❫ ・━━━━━━ ❜
" papa ! Papa ! " two boys run up to their farther
" hey their buds " Ran kneeled down to one knee to hug his four year old sons
" Where's mommy? " both of them said earning a chuckle from Ran
" we miss her "
" you guys sure are a mommys boys aren't ya? " he said picking them up and walks toward the car. Trapping them both in to their seat
" now let's go to mommy "
" yay ! "Both of them yelled
.
.
.
.
.
" hey love guess who I brought with me " Ran said opening the door
" mommy ! " the twin runs toward the bed
" hey loves ! " I great them back
" mommy are you sick ? " Runi my oldest son asked
" why are you at the hospital ? " Rinu said worried
" mommy is not sick so you don't have to worry " I said
" so do you want to meet her? " I said to them
" who? " they both said
" your baby sister . Whom you guys have to protect her okay? " Ran said petting both of their heads while they look confused
" baby sister......? " the twins looks at each other and then realized it
" does that mean we are big brothers ?! " they both yelled in excitement
" shhh..you'll wake her up " I said smiling at them and showing them the baby im holding around my arm
" wow she so tiny " Runi said
" yeah but also cute " Rinu said poking one of my daughter cheeks.
Ran pick both of them up and place them next to me to get a better look at the new born baby.
" thank you for giving us a wonderful and beautiful kids " Ran kissed my right cheeks and I gave him our daughter to hold as he starts to tear up again.
Just like when he held his two first born
A perfect family indeed....
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ extra ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
" get out our sight "
" or do you want your teeth knocked out? "
" come guys let's go ! The haitani siblings are scary! " the group of boys run away
" are you okay little sis ? " runi said throwing his bat to the ground
" I'm fine * sniff * thank you " Runi , Rinu
" here " rinu wipes his little sister tears away with a tissue
" next time be more careful and don't leave Runi and me without telling us. Okay? "
" because if you do we can't protect you " Runi visit the sentence
" okay I'll won't leave you guys any more " Rui said standing up
" good let's go home because our mom and dad yell at us for getting in trouble and being late for lunch "
Rui hummed and walk toward her brothers, holding their hand and neveret go , they both go home go they're lovey dovey parents.
The end
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A/n: hope you like part 3 ! I was supposed to update this yesterday but I forgot to save it and had to write it again ! (இдஇ; ) it was so frustrating !!!
But anyways hope you enjoy part 3
╚═════ ೋღ 🌺 ღೋ ═════╝
@idkwhybutilikesmut @moodyclouds89 @no-signal @luciflare
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macabre00danse · 10 months
Text
Hunter… I didn’t understand why Diana gave me that name. I didn’t understand anything at the time, really. The state of California was only a few years older than I was and it was the dawn of a new century. All I knew was that the world I was born into was a lie. Diana killed me and dragged me into hell. Hell was a lie too. She took me from the city until she said I was ready. I don’t remember how long we were out there in the Mojave and I didn’t have a name at that time. My only friends were the ravens she’d let me talk to, and damn they liked to talk. Diana was never my friend. She was fierce, terrifying, and lovely all at once. I wanted her, but that was something else she made me wait for until I was ready.
After endless nights of suckling blood from coyotes, talking to ravens, and enduring Diana’s harsh lessons; I’d had enough. Something inside me rumbled, clicked sadistically, and uncoiled. I wanted more. I left Diana’s cactus garden and ran to the hills. I knew what I wanted even before I saw it. Predators can sense each other sometimes, and sometimes I wonder how long the old cat spied on me until he made his move. He sank his claws into me, but he wasn’t planning on a dead rival gripping him and falling deliberately down a cliff. We both broke bones, but I didn’t need mine as much as he did. As I drained him and mended my body, the thing inside congratulated me. I was ready. I took the mountain lion’s shape and bounded back to Diana. When she saw me, she nodded in approval. I returned to my own shape and took Diana in the moonlight.
She said she had two final gifts for me. She bit her lip and I drank from her mouth. Then a talon grew from her finger and she blinded one of my eyes. Before I could think, my hands and legs were tied with a barbed rope and she hanged me face down above the little pond that had filled with rainwater. “A test and a name. Pass, and you may return to the city. Follow me when you are ready. Farewell, Hunter.” Those were the last words I heard her speak. She was gone. Naked, I hanged bleeding into the pond. The rope was imbued with her strange magic magic and I couldn’t break it no matter how I struggled. I could only gaze down at my reflection in the bloody water, knowing the sun would soon rise and end me. I didn’t hate her. I longed for her and her dark secrets even more. I wanted to know the old ways as she did. As I stared at my reflection, the water shifted and she stared back at me in the water. There were figures behind her, but they were faint shadows. I resolved to hunt her to the ends of the earth and into the underworld if I had to. Diana smiled, and the rope dissolved into ash as I plunged into the water. I splashed out of my dark baptism and immediately sank into the earth mere moments before the first sunrays crept over the hills. My raven friends, who had been solemnly silent until now, cawed and cheered for me. They knew I’d return after dusk. When I did, we all made our way back to Los Angelas.
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I’ve been here for so long. I tell the mortals my name is Vincent, but the kindred know who I really am. Some call me a sellout, some call me a heretic. It doesn’t matter, really. The Sanctified have a pretty strong grip on LA, so survival is the test for the Coven. Young Acolytes either get smart, make good contacts, beat down the competition, or they die. Well, sometimes they just leave. I’ve seen the turnover marked by the trends over the last century; sometimes everyone is obsessed with Isis and Bast, other times Hecate is in style. It’s all the same to me. I know who I am. I’ve carved out enough goodwill and boons from the Prince himself that the Coven doesn’t even have to attend Mass anymore. We get to have our rites in the hills instead. 
They’re chanting my name tonight. Hunter… Hunter… but no matter who says it, it never sounds as sweet as when Diana said it. Even after all this time, that moment is burned into my memory. I leave the city sometimes, but never for very long. One night, I will be ready. Then, the true hunt will begin.
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twistedmusings · 3 years
Note
I'm not going to request it now because requests are closed, but that Savanaclaw petting scenario was really cute and like,, Octavinelle petting and examining them
(,,• W •,,)
A/N: If you can pinpoint the exact moment I started to slowly doubt my writing ability and how to write these characters, I will give you, the reader, 100 points. Cause man this was rough to write when you have writer's block q wq But anyways, this was when my requests were closed BUT I WANTED TO COME THROUGH WITH IT! I would like to dedicate it to @kirayamidemon since I read their comic and it was...excellent.
But in other news, I found out that eels like to be petted!
Warnings: Eel petting, Octopus petting and all three Octavinelle members feeling a certain way when you finally give them those pats.
[Floyd-Senpai: Shrimpy~! Meet us in the mirror room tonight! Azul says he wants to give you something!] 
Your eyes look down at your phone before pocketing it back into your jacket, taking another sip of the Coral Pink drink Floyd had made for you before you left Monstro Lounge as you reminisce back on the day you just had. 
Today has been probably the most successful day the Monstro Lounge has had in a while. You had offered up the idea to Azul while you two walked to the cafeteria, mentioning touching a manta ray once and how you didn’t expect them to be so slimy. He had looked at you curiously and asked if you had just been a curious child when you were growing up, but you told him that you used to go to a lot of aquariums and how you would go straight to the petting exhibit. 
And the moment you said petting exhibit, Azul already had cashed the idea in. 
Aquariums had been placed elegantly among the tables of Monstro Lounge tonight. The smaller aquariums on the tables were closed lid, giving the customers a chance to enjoy the little ecosystems Jade had personally made for the creatures Azul had brought in while partaking in their drinks and meals. It made for a killer Magicam picture and Azul had predicted with Vil’s and Cater’s attendance the hashtag #MonstroLoungeExperience would be trending by the time they reached the dinner rush.
It trended faster than they thought. 
Most foot traffic, however, came from the piece de resistance. 
In the middle of the Lounge, a large aquarium had been placed at foot level where various customers could reach down and pet larger animals such as sting rays, sturgeon fish, starfishes and sea cucumbers. All of them with little placards stating fun facts as well as little sections with a bunch of coral that made for another perfect Magicam photo opportunity. 
It had been an amazing experience and you felt like you had almost grown closer to the three Octavinelle students, which was always an ‘A+’ in your book. 
You were pretty sure you saw Azul smiling from ear to ear by the time they closed and Floyd and Jade looked physically exhausted from having to deal with so many customers. They had been busy from opening to closing with no breaks in between so you figured that they would want to rest. 
So getting a message from Floyd so late at night had been somewhat confusing. 
But you didn’t question it, the fact that Azul wants to give you something making you ever so curious. 
Who knows, maybe if the sea creatures were still around Azul could let you pet them some more? 
Out of everyone you had probably been the most excited for the petting exhibit and you had given him the idea so the possibility of playing more with the starfishes and manta rays pushed you to move faster. 
Finishing the last of your drink and throwing it away in the nearest trash can, you push open the doors to the mirror room with a smile--!  
Only to find nobody. 
“...huh.” 
You look around, not daring to call out either of their names since, technically, you weren’t even supposed to be here. The only thing you could do was take a few steps further, looking around as you try to make some sense of the situation. 
Why wouldn’t they meet you in Octavinelle? The Monstro Lounge was there, as well as all the creatures. Azul’s office was there as well so if he wanted to give you something he could have given it to you there, so why had Floyd asked to meet them in the Mirror room? You look around for a moment before frowning as the realization set in. 
It was a prank. 
“Dammit.” 
Of course. Why would Floyd even act this nice towards you if it wasn’t to lull you into a false sense of security? The table you had sat in today had a beautiful aquarium with a bunch of little shrimps floating around and the mereel, more than once, had opened the lid and stuck his hand inside to grab one of the shrimps and hang it over his open mouth. 
You thought he was just acting this way because he was stressed from working so much but he probably had just done it to tease you! With a huff, you pull out your phone and open up his contact number to give him a piece of your mind--! 
“Aha! Shrimpy is here!” 
Only to gag as the back of your jacket is grabbed by a slimy aquamarine hand, pulling you into the nearest mirror and leaving nothing but your phone laying on the ground. 
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Floyd’s hands pull you into a hug the moment you are pulled into the water, laughing as he sees you thrashing around and pulling at the arms keeping you pressed close to him. 
“Ahhhh! Shrimpy stop moving!” 
The mereel squeezes you tight, smiling as he looks down at the moment you realize who is holding you and what you are able to do. 
He grins and wraps his tail around you, the fins brushing your fingertips as the shock slowly starts to die down and the curiosity starts to set in. Floyd’s eyes shine brighter under the sea, your hand going to your chest as you expected to drown immediately but finding it simple to breathe in and out. 
“What--?!”
“Finally!” 
“There we go~ Breathe in--”
You take a deep breath. 
“And out~” 
Your chest relaxes as Floyd giggles at how wide your eyes have gotten, letting you go with his arms but his tail wrapping around one of your legs and pulling you close to him once again. He smiles when your hands go up to inspect the fins on his ears but stop as if the situation was still highly unreal for you to believe. 
He guessed humans rarely got to see the sea during the night, but he was glad he got to show you this sight. Even if it was Azul’s idea in the first place. 
Looking around, you notice that you had been here before. 
It was the Coral Sea. 
You look back at the mereel as Floyd tilts his head at your confusion, smiling as he sees the shining in your eyes get brighter when you notice that the veins in his arms and the ones going up his neck are all shining in the moonlit water. 
“Floyd…” 
Ah. You really looked too cute. Especially when you were looking at him with so much wonder. Maybe he should just take you out further and hide near the corals, somewhere Jade nor Azul would look as he preens under your attention. 
He blinks as you break out of the spell long enough to point a finger at him. 
“You--! Why did you call me to the Mirror room so late! The last thing I need to do is get in trouble with the Headmaster!” 
Floyd frowns, “You didn’t get in trouble! I pulled you when I heard your voice! Why didn’t you call out to me!” 
“Because I couldn’t see tail nor fin of you!”
Both of you stop talking after your dumb joke, looking at each other with surprise before a giggle escapes your lips first, turning into a full blown laugh between you both as he takes your hand and presses it under the fins in his ears. 
“Shrimpy was so mean today. Petting all those creatures and ignoring everything else. It made me want to eat all of them up.” 
You smile and rub right under the juncture where fins meet skin, Floyd shivering as he pulls you closer to him. 
“Eels don’t eat any invertebrates, right? You guys are mostly carnivores.” 
He grins and gives you a small squeeze. You even knew of his diet? Why hadn’t you mentioned you knew some things about sea creatures. If you had, Floyd would have dragged you to the Coral Sea way before this! He smiles as your hands go all the way down to his neck, tracing each vein slowly but not going any further than his clavicle and choosing instead to run your fingers from his shoulder blades all the way to his Adam's apple. 
“Shrimpy is being too shy. Here!” 
You gasp as Floyd grabs your hand and helps you swim over to a pair of rocks, sitting you down on top as the bottom of his tail wrapped around your legs to keep you anchored. He laughs as he practically sits on you, choosing instead to lay the top half of his tail on your lap as you look down at the shiny, swishing fins. 
“Now you can touch as much as you’d like!” 
Floyd was ready to make a joke about how this would a much better petting experience for you but his eyes widen when he sees the wonder in yours, the smile in his face disappearing as he watches your fascination with his fins, running your fingers through his caudal fin and rubbing the edges with your hand. His hands twitch as you run yours up his tail, taking in the slimy but firm feeling before looking up at him and reaching out to cup his face with one hand. 
He presses his cheek against your palm, smiling as you scratch right over his ear fin and almost jumping up from the rock as you start to rub the appendage. 
“Shrimpy wait--” 
Shit, he almost bit his tongue. He could barely look into your curious eyes as his heart sped up, the most sensitive area of his body being played and inspected with being a far too new feeling for him to just laugh it off. 
Floyd bites his bottom lip as his tail squeezes your legs, closing his eyes as he felt several shivers go up his spine. It felt too good--
“Floyd?” 
The mereel slowly comes down from the high as he glares at the intruder, clicking his tongue as he saw who it was. 
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A pair of identical eyes to Floyd’s turn in your direction, your hand pulling away from the other as you turned to greet Jade. 
“You certainly took them farther than I thought you would.” 
He chuckles as his brother turns away, clearly not wanting you to see the blush on his cheeks. Nevertheless, his attention immediately goes back to you, swimming over to your side and sitting on the opposite of where Floyd was situated. 
“Did you have any troubles finding us?” 
You shook your head, “Floyd grabbed me and pulled me in before I could leave.” 
Jade nods and looks down at how Floyd had situated himself, a brief pang of jealousy overtaking him as he scoots closer, takes your hand and presses it on his chest. You immediately try to pull back but Jade’s eyes lid as he tugs you in closer, the veins in his chest shining even brighter than Floyd’s as he immediately feels you relax in his touch. 
“Do you know what this is, [Y/N]-san?” 
His eyes take their time to take in all of you as you nod your head, whispering the word ‘bioluminescence’ as Jade licks his lips. 
How strange was it to see you so focused. Jade had taken his time during the lull of the Monstro Lounge hours to watch you near the petting tank, your fingers running over the manta rays and tapping at the carapaces of the horseshoe crabs. And like his brother he did feel a certain sort of jealousy for those creatures, but he also saw an opportunity. 
An opportunity to get your guard down. 
His eyes look over at Floyd, the other pouting as your fingers start to trace Jade’s chest all by themselves.
“Uhm--” 
Jade’s attention goes back to you, “Yes?” 
“I didn’t think that moray eels had bioluminescence.” 
He smiles and takes your hand again, guiding it from the middle of his chest all the way to his cheek making sure that your fingers feel the light travel in his veins as you start to wriggle out of Floyd’s hold and into Jade’s. 
“Our kind is a mixture of many eels types. While our exterior is that of a moray eel, our interior is also made up of certain eels that use this feature as a way to communicate with other animals, warn predators…” 
The mereel decides to keep the ‘lure prey’ part out of his explanation. 
Jade’s eyes immediately went to Floyd’s as the other was about to speak up, glaring at him to keep his mouth quiet for he had his turn. His eyes soften when they go back to you, your eyes still taking in all of the small trails of light decorating Jade’s body as your hands trace against the caudal fins on his arms. 
They were rougher than the ones near their ears…
Slowly, your hands go to the fins on the side of Jade’s face, the mereel tensing up but keeping his eyes on you as you start to tug and rub at the appendages. 
“[Y/N]-san…” 
His nails scratch against the rocks as he feels your fingers trace every line they can find, his fins giving a little twitch as you push them back only to watch them slowly move back to their original spot. You had no idea what you were making him feel, what you probably made Floyd feel. 
And if his dear brother wanted to keep it a secret, then he would keep his mouth shut as well. 
Having someone touch them so freely, especially that area, was an act reserved for mates only. Even during courtship this was prohibited and if any other merperson happened to swim by it would be as if they just tumbled into the merman equivalent of someone shoving their fingers in between someone else’s legs. 
But your curiosity was so endearing and Jade just couldn’t find it in himself to pull you away. In fact, that look of yours full of innocence and naivety was so cute that if he let his instincts run wild you would find yourself being dragged to the Leech's home--
“What--you two!” 
His reason kicks back in as Jade smiles and turns to look at the new visitor. 
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The octomer’s face is bright red as he locks eyes with you, your hands letting go of Jade’s fins as he smiles and waves at Azul. 
“I’m glad you decided to join us, Azul.”
He wants to say something about what the hell he just saw but he decides to save it, knowing full well that Jade nor Floyd were going to give him a straight answer. Instead, he decides to address you directly. 
“Inferring from our conversation from early this morning as well as your actions during the Monstro Lounge opening hours, I figured you would like this sort of surprise." 
He clears his throat, sneaking a peek at your face and quickly looking away as he saw your eyes staring straight at him. 
Humans like you are still curious about the different types of merpeople, especially those like Jade and Floyd, so after much consideration I decided--” 
"Azul, you're beautiful." 
Oh no. He bit his tongue. Fuck, fuck, fuck he bit his tongue and now it hurts like a shell clamping down on his hand--why had you gone and say something like that so suddenly?! 
"Excuse me?" 
The spell Jade had you in was completely broken as you pulled out of the brother's hold and swam over to him, stopping when you noticed him backing away. 
Azul stared at you and you stared back at him. 
He couldn't help it. After all the things he had to deal with, it was hard enough for him to even appear in front of you like this. And it wasn't like he was doing it as a showing of any sort of affection towards you, he just didn't want to owe you any favours from the idea you had given him! 
All he had to do was just...reach a tentacle out-- 
"Huh?" 
Azul notices you swimming back a tiny bit, smiling at the tentacle shyly reaching out to you. 
"You can turn back, you know. I don't want you to feel forced to do this." 
You point at him, your eyes still wide with curiosity but keeping your distance. 
"The fact that I get to see you like this is enough." 
Azul can feel his heart skip a beat, tentacles unfurling even more as the need to hide melted away. 
But...he owed you a favor... 
"Honestly. Thank you so much Azul." 
For the Sea Witch's sake, he really couldn't pin you down, could he? 
The octomer swims over, floating right in front of you as one tentacle shyly brushes against your fingertips. They twitch in interest but you do not move, looking up at Azul expectantly. 
You really were too nice for your own good, waiting for someone to give you the okay when he clearly wanted you to at least inspect that part of him. 
"Go...go ahead." 
Your touch is soft, pressing your hands right against his suckers and chuckling at the small noise they made as they attached themselves to your skin. Azul moves in a bit closer as some tentacles start wrapping around your ankles and wrists, his natural instincts taking over as his tentacles wrap around the person he really liked. 
Well not like as in like like but a like he had yet to put a definition to. And it's not like it needed a definition, you certainly weren't asking him what sort of like it was and the thought of what kind of like it really was didn't keep him up at night at all. 
"Oop!" 
Azul almost wants to screech at the tentacle going in between your legs and hoisting you up, offering you a sort of makeshift seat as the other appendages start to press against your neck, leaving behind little sucker marks in their wake. 
This situation was not only testing his boundaries but also his patience. 
"I didn't think they would be so slippery...and so soft!" 
Please don't look so curious about him! It's going to give him wild expectations! 
The tip of a tentacle rubs against your cheek, Azul's face an almost red tomato as he hears you chuckle and push the appendage back but for some reason his tentacles weren't listening to him so the thing only pushed forward even more--
"Ah! No fair!" 
Floyd comes up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug as he points a finger at Azul. 
"No hogging Shrimpy to yourself!" 
Azul swims back in alarm. 
"I wasn't hogging anyone!" 
Jade laughs as he swims right up behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he pulls you back. 
"Azul you might want to look down." 
The octomer blinks only to look down, seeing that one of his tentacles had stubbornly wrapped around your waist. 
"Ahh...ahhhh….!" 
You, Jade and Floyd blink as dark ink fills the water, Azul covering his face and letting you go, swimming to the nearest hole and curling up inside as he strangles one of his tentacles. 
Of all the things to embarrass him it just had  to be himself, huh?! 
"Azul? Wait come back!" 
"Shrimpy tell me I'm beautiful as well~!" 
"Floyd let me go! There's ink everywhere!" 
"Not until you tell me I'm beautiful!" 
"Jade!" 
"Azul is more than okay, I can assure you...although I would also like the same compliment as well, [Y/N]-san." 
The next day, you woke up with a high fever due to swimming all night, a present from all of the Octavinelle students at your doorstep with an apology card neatly placed on top. 
2K notes · View notes
notchesandbullets · 3 years
Text
Life After Luck (Black Panther!Shinsou x Reader)
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Art credit: Pixiv ID 123370838
Warnings: harassment, descriptions of injuries and blood, mention of a past character death (minor) and violence, angst, fluff, protective Shinsou and endearing dad!Shinsou.
A/N: second work for @ultimate-astridwriting​ hybrid collab!!
Words: 9.4k
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You and Shinsou had been seeing each other secretly for years. And in the famed city of Musutafu where the existence of hybrids were extremely rare, that wasn’t exactly an easy feat.
The statistics varied around the globe but the general trend ended up to be less than 5% of the world’s population being born with some kind of animal trait.
Because they were so rare, most humans lived out their whole lives without encountering a hybrid in person once, but for the odd individual, sometimes they would catch a glimpse.
Ever since he was young, Shinsou had to fight every step of the way to get what he wanted. He had to work harder than most just for the mere scraps of attention from scouts that came to search for those with talent to become future heroes, but he never once complained. Until a fight broke out at school, the jocks beating him up in the cafeteria, calling his aspiration to be a hero stupid while everyone else just sat there and watched.
They called him all sorts of horrible names that made his skin crawl and at the end of it all, they didn’t even get punished for starting the fight. He did.
After that, he stomped away from the school grounds and never looked back.
Overcoming life’s great trials, he made a name for himself in his own community in Japan with the help of his mentor, Aizawa.
The scruffy man demanded that he at least get the bare minimum of an education with him if he really refused to go back to his original school, and that’s how the odd pair that resembled father and son more than anyone else ended up getting homeschooled by the veteran underground pro. 
Eventually, the once scrawny black panther without a quirk transformed into a seasoned pro that Japan’s law enforcement called on whenever a case called for his skills. 
Shinsou’s hybrid traits made it easy for him to sneak around despite his size, making him one of the idealistic hires when police needed someone for undercover work. Coupled with the prowess of his build body, he was more than capable to takedown whatever targets were given to him.
Once he reached adulthood, he left the police reserves and went out on his own, seeking a life that lacked the emergency sirens and ways of deceit that it had been filled with previously.
He bounced around from job to job, starting from the bottom up. He washed dishes in a kitchen for a restaurant then went on to be a cashier and then finally worked on the side of the road, cleaning up litter left behind by inconsiderate people.
Shinsou found that over time, he appreciated doing those jobs more and got fulfillment out of it that he didn’t find before.
Little things that happened daily put an extra spring in his step, like strolling down the street and seeing an elder needing help to get across. The simple actions of holding open the door or complimenting someone in hopes of making their day, it was so much clearer than it had been before.
That wasn’t to say that life was a walk in the park for the estranged panther. He still got comments about his appearance when his hood slipped off or from people who looked closely enough spotted his tail, but he no longer cared. His self-worth didn’t rely on pleasing them.
He was done with trying to blend in with the humans. He was different and he was proud of it.
Shinsou’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened every time someone muttered something not-so-kind under their breath but he pushed on out of sheer determination, shoving it down until he could process it and release the feelings that came with it. He didn’t want to be the type of person who held a grudge.
Nothing good came out of that.
It was hard, but he had an example to set. He didn’t want his son to end up like the person he used to be. 
A loner, an outcast, filled with so much anger aimed at the world that he lacked the ability to get along with anybody. And he didn’t want that for his son.
Naoki. His five-year-old kid with as much spunk as you had.
His wife of seven years.
Shinsou had met you on the eve of a grand ball being hosted in honor of Midoriya’s birthday, a party thrown for the Number One Hero by his large circle of friends. The black panther hybrid had been serving as protection for the night to Kaminari, an old human friend of his from high school who had hooked him up with a steady job within his own company.
Private security.
Since his panther genes gave him a much more built physique, Shinsou didn’t have any troubles convincing the big boss that he was the right fit for being a bodyguard. Coupled with his impressive background, that sealed the deal in one go.
Shinsou had been over at the bar getting a drink for the hyperactive blond conversing with his other guard, Jirou, when it happened.
The grand doors to the Victorian ballroom opened and in you entered, causing everyone’s jaws to drop to the floor.
Your floor-length gown was breathtaking. Diamonds glittered on soft skin from where the expensive necklace sat just above your collarbone. Ruby heels peeked out from under your dress as you floated through the entryway, coming to a stop at the balcony high above all the guests’ heads.
White chiffon skirts sweeping the marble tile, your satin heels clicked against the floor as you strode in, your chin turned delicately at the audible gasp that left the doorman.
An easy smile popped up on your features as he hastily apologized for staring and you brushed it off with an airy wave of your hand.
Shinsou didn’t even know if you were aware of all the eyes on you as you glided down the steps and warmly greeted Todoroki, the one who actually reserved the ballroom for the night, and Bakugou, one of your oldest friends.
Thank Eraserhead for his enhanced hearing.
However, Shinsou practically fainted when you walked over to him, commenting that he looked nice right before introducing yourself. The dress code that he had previously complained about to Kaminari earlier went out the window as soon as his eyes settled on you, drinking in your figure. 
You were the embodiment of a goddess.
At that point, he wasn’t sure if he died and went to heaven or what, but he knew one thing. You were absolutely breathtaking.
Your elegance, your ease and instant kindness whenever you interacted with someone had him weak in the knees. 
You were a vision. 
Radiating pure light and beauty.
Sliding over to him, Kaminari had flashed him a cocky grin and reassured him that Jirou could handle his responsibilities if he, oh, wanted to pay a visit to a particularly stunning girl. 
Jirou, his right-hand woman, swatted the electric blond’s shoulder as he doubled over with laughter but calmly told Shinsou that if he wanted to stroll around for a little while before coming back, then well, there certainly was nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun.
Blushing, he refused, claiming he couldn’t possibly leave Kaminari alone that long. He would find a way to set something on fire somehow. 
The man had a weird affinity with fire. 
Shinsou busied himself with the glasses, pouring the drinks that he had originally came over to get and he was about to get back to Jirou and Kaminari, both who suspiciously disappeared from sight, when he glanced up and saw you in all your splendor. 
Right in front of him.
The crystal flutes he had been holding smashed onto the floor, clear shards flying everywhere. All heads turned to him but this time, the attention was unwanted. 
Shinsou was frantic, trying to amend his mistake before you saw, even though that was literally impossible at this point, and Kaminari popped up out of nowhere, intervening before the enraged caterer could say some not-so-kind words to him. 
That was fortunate for him. 
What wasn’t as fortunate was you crouching down the second you heard the crash, disregarding everyone else’s shouts for you to be careful as you raced to his side, bending down to help.
“Are you alright?!” You asked, eyes wide with panic when your gaze landed on his palms and you froze. “Oh no, you’re bleeding!!”
The next ten minutes consisted of him adamantly refusing to let you help him clean up the shattered crystal and you arguing against him. Shinsou was forced to cave into you as you insisted on helping, threatening to haul him into your car to take him to the hospital yourself if he didn’t at least let you look at it, so he wasn’t left with much of a choice.
It wasn’t long before all the dangerous fragments were swept up and once the situation was handled, you led him out of the way to tend to his injuries.
Shinsou was quiet the entire way out, only protesting when you finally reached your destination of the nearest single stall bathroom. Here, at least it was quieter than the party that had resumed out there. Definitely wasn’t his crowd, but he wasn’t about to stomp all over the opportunity that Kaminari gave him just because he was a bit uncomfortable.
He could handle it. He was a panther, for crying out loud. 
His frame was broad, his sharp indigo eyes terrifying and he was tougher than anyone else out there.
And yet, you didn’t flinch away from his wary gaze, going so far as to tend to the cuts and scraps on his bare hands, disinfecting them gently before bandaging them up in soft gauze you found in the cabinet.
It wasn’t odd to have amenities at an event like this where some kind of physical discourse was bound to happen. You knew it well. 
Shinsou eyed you while you worked. “... I didn’t catch your name.”
If you were put off by the low drawl edged with a slight growl clearly meant to intimidate you, you didn’t show it at all. 
Shrugging nonchalantly, you ducked your head somewhat shyly as you tied off the cotton. “L/N. L/N, Y/N.”
Shinsou smirked. “Nice to meet you.”
You flashed him a grin. “Likewise.”
This time, he was the one to look down shyly as his heart skipped a beat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his newly banadaged palm as you wrapped the other one. “... Thanks for doing that.”
The snort that left you had him doing a double take.
“Thanks for letting me.” You retorted, tugging a bit harder on the end of the gauze to emphasize your exasperation with his earlier stubbornness and Shinsou winced, already regretting it.
“Sorry about that.” He murmured. He didn’t want to be on your bad side already. He had just met you.
Your gaze softened a tad as you picked up on the genuine strain in his voice. “It’s okay.”
After you finished tending to his injury, giving him a lame excuse why you knew first-aid so well, the two of you returned to the ball. 
He let it go. For some reason, he had a feeling he shouldn’t pry.
Shinsou readjusted his tie, knowing that if he didn’t, Kaminari would do it for him. That’s just the type of person the electric blond was. It was hella annoying.
But his indigo gaze kept on you the entire time as your skirts swept across the floor, capturing all the attention of the guests once again. 
Shinsou tapped the rim of the champagne glass to his lips contemplatively, mulling something over in his mind.
He saw through your weak excuse that you just knew how to do first-aid. He spotted the way your hands shook when you saw the blood, no matter how shallow the laceration was, and he couldn’t help but do a little bit of digging.
Jirou helped him find out that you weren’t a doctor or a nurse. In fact, you weren’t in any kind of profession in the medical field. 
While Shinsou was slightly glad you weren’t so that he wouldn’t run into you when missions went sideways, he was more disappointed than anything else.
What if he never saw you again after tonight?
The thought of today being the last time he laid eyes on you was too much for him to bear and even though he tried to keep his distance, tried to stomp out the blossoming warmth in his chest for you when you giggled and threw him a smile through the crowd with logic, nothing worked. 
Shinsou gathered his courage and with a push from Kaminari, literally, he had a date with the bashful bartender by the end of the night.
Waving goodbye to you after he walked you to his car, his arm dropped back down to his side as you drove off into the night. This is going to be fun... 
Two weeks passed by and he still had yet to see you.
At first, he was the one to get called away. Kaminari needed him for a gig while he closed a deal on the nightclub that he owned that he was looking to expand. Apparently, Jirou and Sero were unavailable. He apologized profusely, promising to make it up to you, but you didn’t even mind.
You understood that sometimes life just happened and things got in the way. He had nothing to be sorry for. You rescheduled for the following week. 
That was when you got called away. Family emergency.
Shinsou spent twenty minutes on the phone with you, promising that he wasn’t holding it against you for needing to push back the date again. His eyes softened when he clearly heard how distressed you were through his cell and he sighed, murmuring into the receiver that it didn’t matter how long it took or how many obstacles the two of you would have to get through.
His heart still longed for you just as strongly as the first day he saw you.
With his quiet yet passionate reassurance, you were able to attend to all that you needed to, keeping in contact with him throughout the week. You were ashamed to admit it, but with how easy he was to talk to, you found yourself falling hard.
Then, the day finally came where life allowed you this one happiness.
According to you, the first date went well. Sure, Shinsou was a bit shy and awkward, fumbling over his words but you found it extremely cute. 
He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as his figure portrayed. Underneath all that brawn, the black panther was sweet and he was kind. 
It took some time for him to actually warm up to you, but you were there waiting for him patiently. You never pushed him, never asked him to reveal secrets he didn’t want to talk about or divulge information about his personal life unless he himself wished to talk about it. 
But when he finally did open up, close to a year later after that initial meeting at Midoriya’s birthday party, he found that he couldn’t stop running his mouth when you trained your keen gaze on him so intently, hanging onto his every word.
Shinsou told you everything.
He told you about his lonely past, about the man called Eraserhead but how he knew him as Aizawa, how he preferred coffee over tea because while neither of them actually had any taste, one of them did a much better job of keeping him awake at night when he had to work. 
You giggled and told him you took note of that, leaning forward to plop your chin in the palm of your hand as you regarded him mischievously. 
“Does that mean the great and famous Toshi doesn’t like water?” You teased lightly, stirring your hot chocolate while the snowflakes fell outside, melting the instant they hit the window.
The pillowy softness looked deceptively soft and cozy but you knew after many experiences of jumping into piles of snow that that was definitely not the case.
Shinsou scowled at the lilt in your voice but the edges of his mouth twitched, desperately trying to hold back a fond smile at the sound of your nickname for him.
You gave him that nickname after you learned his given name. He had shared it with you months after you two started dating regularly. You had pestered him for it for a while after the first coffee date but after he asked you to stop, that he would tell you when he was ready, you stopped immediately.
Boundaries had to be respected. 
One of your old girlfriends made fun of you for it, claiming that it didn’t make sense so you shouldn’t feel the need to respect it.
You dropped her right after. 
Understanding didn’t matter. If it was close to him, then it mattered to you. And that went for everyone. 
Shinsou tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants and leaned back in the booth, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. The only other person he let call him Toshi was Aizawa and that was on the rare occasion that his mentor praised him for a job well done.
“You have some nerve, doll.” Shinsou teased right back, the barest amount of amusement twinkling in his eyes and he cleared his throat. “But no, I actually do like water.”
In spite of the common misconception that all cats hated water, he got that a lot once people saw his ears and tail, fangs poking out between his lips. But if anything, he had no issues with it. Let them say and think whatever they wanted, it didn’t matter to him.
You however… he couldn’t have you thinking things that weren’t true.
Shinsou made a face. “I just am not fond of baths.”
You slapped your knee and cackled at that, laughing so loud that you drew the attention of some of the other patrons in the vicinity but you couldn’t even catch your breath long enough to apologize for ruining their calm coffee cafe experience. 
The two of you dated for quite a long time before Shinsou popped the question.
For you, it had taken you by a complete and utter surprise. You had expected him to ask you to move in with him first or something since his place was big enough, not this. No one had ever committed to a relationship with you long enough and serious enough to make you think that marriage was part of the equation.
But while you were startled, you still agreed, tears caught in your lashes. You may have been shocked but you were so elated.
Shinsou, keen as ever, wiped away your tears and coaxed your face up, finger hooked underneath your chin as he examined you closely.
Indigo hues softened in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” You reassured him with a sniffle and bright smile. “I just— Sometimes I forget how good of a person you really are, Toshi.”
He was taken aback at that. His whole life he had been told the opposite. And yet here he was, with the love of his life telling him otherwise.
His heart was going to explode.
It hadn’t been the first time you said it but he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last. 
And when the news that you two were now engaged finally hit you, you took some time to soak in the scenery.
The place he picked was absolutely perfect.
An alcove secluded and filled with fragrant flowers, vines trailing up the expanse of the old stone ruins. Soothing streams cut paths through the quiet garden, a serene and tranquil place hidden amongst the bustling town of Musutafu. There was no one else around. Just you two.
It was perfect. It was perfectly Toshi. 
“Thank you.” You whispered, leaning your head and resting it on his shoulder. 
He booped your nose softly, smiling slightly when you scrunched it up cutely and his tail curled around your waist protectively, holding you close. 
“I love you.” Shinsou murmured, closing his eyes as he breathed you in.
There was no hesitation in your soft reply. “I love you too.”
But your relationship with Shinsou wasn’t all sunshine and roses. There was a time where you thought you might lose him.
That he might die.
It was bad. Kaminari had called you right after it happened but because you had been working at the time and your dick of a boss didn’t let you have your phone, you didn’t see any of those messages until after you got off your shift. 
But when you finally did look at it, your heart stopped.
What happened next was a blur. Your phone slipped through your fingers, uncaring how the screen cracked and went black the instant it hit the pavement and you tore off in the address now ingrained in your memory despite only looking at it once.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, You chanted in your head, tears streaming down your face and the city lights faded into the background as you zipped down the familiar path to the hospital you swore you would never step foot in again. Toshi, I can’t lose you too.
The front desk receptionist didn’t even stop you as you barreled through the front doors with panicked eyes, chest heaving. She simply waved you on. You knew where to go. 
When you finally got to his room, your heart stopped.
Kaminari wasn’t kidding. It was bad. 
No one else was in the white room with white walls that contained your beloved lying deathly still on the single cot in the center of the room. 
The hospital room was vacant. Empty. No color.
You hated it. 
But you suppressed those feelings of unease that made you sick to your stomach and stepped a foot inside, racing to Shinsou before you could talk yourself out of it.
“I’m here.” You cried out, reaching for his hand. A choked sob left you when his fingers weakly curled around yours. “I’m here, Hitoshi.”
The doctors came and went but you stayed by his side, not even batting an eye when Kaminari, Jirou and Sero came to visit.
There were heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep due to the past few days. “When will he wake up?”
Kaminari hesitated, glancing at Jirou, hoping to find her usual reassurance but a foreign worry wrought her features.
“I… don’t know.” He said finally, placing a hand on your shoulder, sighing when you didn’t even look up at him and smiled like you normally did. “He’s under a pretty heavy anesthesia—”
“He’s going to wake up.” You stated firmly, brow kitting stubbornly and you squeezed his hand tighter.
But when it was clear he wasn’t going to squeeze back, your grip loosened and your hands fell back in your lap.
“He’s going to wake up.” You repeated, voice shaking this time around with insecurity as you faced the possible reality that he might not.
That you had just grown close to someone else who was going to leave you.
According to the report that Jirou had tried to tell you about, Shinsou had gotten attacked by someone he had helped the police put away a long time ago. 
A retaliation hit. 
Stabbed in the shoulder with a gunshot wound through his femoral artery, there wasn’t a lot of hope for him. He lost a lot of blood.
But you were certain he would fight. He could make it through this. He promised you that he would never leave you. 
Resolve strengthening, you wiped away your tears harshly with the back of your hand before covering his motionless hand with yours once more. As long as you were here, you would provide him all the support he needed to get through this.
“Toshi…” You sobbed as the other three took their leave after failing to convince you to go home and get some rest. They would get some food and bring it up to you, sure you hadn’t eaten in days. You didn’t want to be the one to tell them that they were right.
Shinsou never liked it when you skipped meals. What would he say if he saw you now?
You pressed a wet kiss to the back of his hand, tears blurring your vision. 
“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You promised, eyelashes fluttering close as you failed against the anguish.
“Please, don’t leave me alone.”
Days turned into weeks and your hope was dwindling with each passing hour. 
You had lost your job at the diner that you worked at because you refused to leave his side. You were lucky to have Kaminari reassure you that money wouldn’t be a problem and you were eternally grateful that he knew just how important it was that you didn’t leave Shinsou’s bedside.
Jirou and Sero rotated shifts to keep watch over their friend, coordinating with Tsukauchi, All Might and Eraserhead to provide top security but you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to their activities.
All you did, from sunrise to midnight was stare at Shinsou’s peacefully sleeping face in hopes that he would blink open those tired eyes and gaze at you once more. 
Please, You begged for what seemed like the millionth time to someone, anyone who was listening. Please help him.
Let him be okay.
When a month and a half had passed, you were at your wit’s end. There had been no change since day one. The doctors said that all his injuries had healed, thanks to Recovery Girl, but that it was likely he would never come out of the coma.
You had no more tears to cry. Your figure was gaunt, facial features sunken in like you had seen a ghost and lost your mind. No one could convince you to eat or sleep. 
If Shinsou died, there was a good chance you would too.
Life was empty without him in it.
You couldn’t take this anymore. The waiting, the not knowing. You hated it.
You begged him even though you knew he couldn’t hear you, angry at him, angry at the guy who put him here, angry at the world for being so unfair that you lost it. Yelling at him, you fought back frustrated tears as you poured your heart out to him.
But then you stopped. He didn’t know.
Sinking back into the uncomfortable plastic chair that your body had molded to, you closed your eyes in defeat.
That’s right. You never told him.
Eyes growing sad and regretful, you debated for a second before you decided that if you were feeling this way, you might as well tell him why.
Holding his hand that teetered on the edge of chilly due to the slowed down circulation, you took a deep breath. 
“You always wanted to know, ever since we first met.” You started softly, playing idly with his fingers to distract yourself from the horror of this story. “I knew you saw right through me then, should’ve taken the warning and run.”
You smiled faintly. He never would’ve let you. 
“I…” You trailed off, losing your courage. Breathing shakily, you tried to gather yourself. You knew this wasn’t going to be an easy feat but somehow, this was the hardest part of it all. 
Where you had to admit what you felt with no hidden truths.
Clearing your throat, you started over. 
“I never told you about Ryuu.” You confessed, blinking up at the stained tiles of the ceiling in an attempt to hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes. “He was my little brother, passed away when I was 15.”
You exhaled shakily. “He was only six.”
Your dad had gotten mugged and was beaten to death on the outskirts of the city before you were born. Your mom raised you as best as a single mother her age could but it was hard. 
She had no job, no family, no one to help her. Your childhood consisted of you bouncing around the streets to make a penny, then crashing in whatever crumbling, rundown building you could find for the night. 
Any run-ins with the law weren’t good.
You knew that they would take you away from your mom if they knew, put you in the foster care system. You couldn’t let them do that, who would take care of her?
She didn’t tell you that she was pregnant. You found out when she started showing.
You didn’t say anything about it for the nine months she carried that baby, supporting her with all you could. Life was okay. You got a job running errands for the kind man who owned a grocery store at the corner of the street. 
You had enough money to put some food on the table.
When she birthed the baby, you were there the entire time. You were there when he had his first cry, when the nurse cut the umbilical cord, and when your mother passed away on the hospital bed, too weak from labor to carry on.
You didn’t mourn. No matter how hard you tried or how much you wanted to, no tears came out.
Instead, you held Ryuu in your arms, kissing him on his little forehead as you vowed to protect him.
He was life. He was precious.
But you couldn’t protect him from himself.
Ryuu was born with a flawed heart. The doctors predicted that he wouldn’t live more than a year.
But your little brother pushed through. By the time he turned four, he was already showing signs of great progress and healing. You were hopeful that he could grow up like a normal kid and experience life to the fullest.
You hoped for too much.
Visits to the hospital became more frequent when he started coughing up blood. Violent seizures overtook him and one day, it claimed his life.
And you didn’t cry.
Onlookers speculated that you had no heart if you couldn’t even grieve for this poor boy, but no, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.
You thought you were over this already, that you had gotten over your fear of hospitals and all the despair that came with it, but no. 
Seeing Shinsou laying there, deathly pale, had your heart beating right out of your chest, and not in a good way.
“When you wake up, I’m going to kill you.” You swore through the hot tears stinging your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. 
Slouching heavily back down in that same uncomfortable plastic chair that dug into your back and made your butt incredibly sore, you clasped Shinsou’s hand tightly.
“You’re such an idiot.” You sobbed, fingers shaking as you let up the pressure, grazing over the back of his hand as though you were afraid he might disappear on you if you pressed too hard.
Vision blurry, a sob welled up in your chest and your body trembled uncontrollably as you let it all out. The build up of all the emotions you had been suppressing since you were younger released onto him and you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore.
But your eyes flew open as something soft and fuzzy ruffled your hair. 
Shooting upright, fresh tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and your hands clapped over your mouth in shock. 
A broken cry escaped you. “Toshi…” 
Shinsou’s indigo eyes opened just a crack but they were trained on you and the faintest of smiles graced his lips.
“Hey, doll.” He breathed tiredly.
His mouth barely moved but you heard him.
With an astonished and disbelieving cry of relief, you flung your arms around his neck.
Despite his body just waking up and getting accustomed to its surroundings, he didn’t hesitate to catch you, tucking your head under his chin and he buried his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply. Damn, he missed you.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Shinsou apologized, wincing a bit as he tried to prop himself up. You were quick to realize what he wanted and helped him, fluffing the pillows behind him as best as you could even though it was hard to reach around his much bigger frame. “How long—”
“Too long.”
Shinsou’s eyes softened and he gently brushed away the teardrops escaping with the pad of his thumb as he cupped your face tenderly. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, eyes closing briefly as he rested his forehead against yours.
You glowered at him even though your heart was already surging towards him with open arms. “You better be.”
The sound of his throaty chuckle was a welcome one and you melted into his embrace, sighing at the deep purr that rumbled from his chest. 
“Princess…” Shinsou murmured, Kaminari’s outburst and Jirou’s relieved expression as they burst into the room going unnoticed as he focused only on you. “Forgive me?”
Vaguely, you registered Sero bolting out the door to fetch the doctor but you blinked up at him and pouted, playing with the collar of his hospital robe.
“It wasn’t your fault.” You mumbled under your breath. 
Shinsou’s eyebrows drew together. “I heard about your brother, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“You don’t need to ask for forgiveness.” You whispered, grip tightening on him when the doctor entered the room and asked you to leave so he could examine him. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
Shinsou begged for just one more minute with you, one more minute to hold you in his arms but the doctor was insistent. Reluctantly, with great difficulty, he let you go, the man taking your place in a second.
You swallowed harshly as you stepped away from him, Jirou patting your shoulder comfortingly and you turned to her as Kaminari peppered the exhausted panther with endless questions.
“Toshi?”
Shinsou turned his head at your soft voice and motioned for you to complete your thought. He knew that look on your face.
You broke away from Jirou, leaving her with Sero as you approached him once more. Slowly, with intent, you strode towards him, watery eyes diminishing as your resolve strengthened.
Taking his hand in yours, something flashed through your eyes. “I’m gonna make them pay.”
In spite of his vision growing foggy as the anesthetic kicked in, a small smirk played upon the edge of his mouth and his gaze flickered over your shoulder to lock purposefully with Kaminari’s. A silent request to keep you safe while he was out.
Shinsou sighed, settling into the thin mattress as comfortably as he could when you pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.
He smiled, eyes fluttering shut as the last thing he heard was your hushed declaration of how much you loved him. 
“Go get ‘em, doll.” 
Seven quirk-cancelling handcuffs, demolished turkey stuffing and a plate of thrown pudding later, you left the individuals responsible for attacking your Toshi in the police’s capable hands. 
It had taken you forever to heal from the trauma of that day that landed your life partner in the hospital in such a dangerous predicament, but taking one slow step at a time, you managed to get back up on your feet and move forward.
Now, years later, the shining daylight turned into the ambiance of night, and that was when the real party started.
Purple lowlights glowed softly in contrast against the glittery sparkles of the disco ball hanging above the dancefloor. 
Jirou spun tunes at the DJ booth, Sero jamming with Kirishima unabashedly to the loud EDM in the crowd, Bakugou violently fighting against his best friend when Kirishima begged for him to come join. 
You poured drinks from behind the counter with an impassive Todoroki, bopping to the music that pumped through the air and reverberated through your bones. Your coworker continued to serve customers, strolling out into the dining area as someone waved him over. Uraraka and Aoyama, you think.
Kaminari had given you a position at his nightclub, asking if you wanted to put your bartending skills to good use since his last guy quit once he got a better gig. You accepted immediately.
You bustled around the back of the counter of the bar, glass shelves stocked with liquor high behind you. Polishing glasses, you handled several things at once as customers put in orders and talked to you all at once.
Tonight was a celebration and a bunch of your friends were here. 
Bakugou was now begrudgingly dancing with Kirishima on the dancefloor, the permanent scowl on his face growing once Todoroki leaned over and casually noted how much he resembled a put off skunk in that moment. Midoriya had to intervene and drag away a clueless Todoroki while Kirishima wrangled back a furious pomeranian. 
Kaminari hung out with Yaoyorozu by Jirou, Shoji and Ojiro drifting over to them as soon as they stepped in through the front door.
Excitement thrummed through your veins at all the familiar faces. With all your friends in one place, you were eager to see the one person you had been looking forward to catching up with all week.
He should be getting off of work soon…
A ring from the doorbell as it opened caught your attention.
“I’ll be right with you!!” You called as the figure who had just shuffled through the door of the bar sat down at the counter.
“No worries.” The man responded smoothly despite his tired tone. “Take your time.”
At the sound of the familiar voice, you casted a glimpse at him, spotting ruffled purple hair and indigo hues brimming with love fixated on you.
He waved you off with a lazy grin and you fought back a smile as you continued to make the requested cocktail for the customer you were currently serving.
You had both agreed to not act with familiarity at your workplace but that didn’t stop you from putting an extra bounce in your step as you flitted around from behind the counter with grace and practiced ease to help ease Todoroki’s workload.
Shinsou’s gaze followed you as you swapped places with the dual-haired man.
He had just got off of patrol with his old mentor, Eraserhead. Kaminari had given him the day off and let him spend time with the scruffy man. And of course Aizawa wanted to spend it doing work.
Taking off his signature mask to let it hang around his neck, Shinsou set down his keys on the polished obsidian tabletop, tapping his fingers idly while he waited for you to come back, his eyes flickering to the employees’ door that led to the back.
But he had no complaints while waiting.
One of his favorite pastimes was watching you work. The grace while you floated around the crowd of people coupled with the delicate precision you used to handle each glass while you poured liquor in different combinations, he could watch you for hours on end and never be bored.
Wiping your hands on your white apron dirtied with stains from this shift, you dashed back behind the counter to send out a few plates full of food that a table had ordered.
Shinsou rested his chin in the palm of his hand nonchalantly, his tail swishing lazily from side to side as you took care of things seamlessly, picking up the influx of business that came with the busy hour.
He briefly wondered why there were only you and Todoroki waiting on tables, scowling slightly when he thought that you had to deal with waitressing on top of bartending but you didn’t seem to mind. 
With an easy smile and light shining in your eyes, you dealt with all of it with grace. 
“Hello!!”
Shinsou glanced up, one of his rare smiles threatening to break out across his face at the sight that greeted him. You were leaning over the counter towards him, spinning a pen between your fingers smoothly as you whipped out a notepad.
“What can I get for you?” You asked politely but the mischievous glint in your eye gave it away.
Shinsou had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you come over. Easily enough, a smug smirk curved at the edge of his mouth and he recovered rather quickly as he chuckled.
“Just water is fine, thanks.” He said and you nodded, flashing him a quirky smile.
You got him his water within seconds and in the blink of an eye, you were back to serving others. Caught up in the craziness of the rush hour, you barely noticed a little someone toddling up to stand up behind you as the door burst open.
“Mama?”
The babysitter you hired for the night came rushing in behind him, hauling your son back frantically, wrought with worry from when he sped ahead of her. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, L/N-san, I just—”
You held up a hand to stop her, calming her down. “It’s okay, Gen. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
In a single hurried breath, she relayed in a panicked manner that she had a family emergency to take care of. You reassured her that it was okay to go, ushering her out the door when she continued to spew out apologies for bailing like this. 
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened and you were quite sure it wouldn’t be the last. The girl was nice and she got along great with your son but her parents struggled with their health and usually one of them or both of them landed in the hospital every week.
The stress. 
You shook your head. It was unfair to put such a young girl through something so strenuous but you didn’t have any say in it and you inserting yourself into their lives would be intrusive so you settled for supporting her whenever the opportunity presented itself. 
“Need a ride?” You asked, eyes sympathetic as you headed over to her, snatching your coat from the hook, already ready to help in any way that you could.
Gen waved her hands quickly, the smile that appeared gone as fast as it came. “That’s okay, but thank you, L/N-san!! Monoma is taking me to the hospital.”
Her knuckles turned white at how tightly she gripped the strap of her bag and your eyes softened understandingly as her boyfriend’s sports car pulled up just outside. 
“Go on.” You urged softly. “And be careful.”
“I will.”
And with that, she turned around, leaving behind a fidgeting little boy tugging on the bottom of your apron.
“Mama? Where’s she going?” Naoki pouted, cheeks puffing out. “I thought we were gonna play…”
You hid a smile, reaching behind you to pat him on the head as you expertly handled a tray of empty beers and put the glasses in the sink. As Todoroki took over for you, you bent down to ruffle his hair.
“What is it, little one?” You questioned softly and somehow your son managed to hear you above the noise and clamor of the partying going on. 
Normally, you would’ve done everything you could to keep him away from your workplace. Having your husband watch him in the back room was preferable until your shift was over. Naoki particularly enjoyed coloring. 
The last babysitter you hired before Gen ended up being careless and lost track of him, letting the small boy wander out of the house. He found you at your workplace easily enough since it was a few blocks away but you were in hysterics when he trotted in through the door with his favorite Eraserhead plushie as one of your regulars held open the door for him. 
Grandpa Shouta would never admit how much he loved the little guy but it didn’t matter. He and Hizashi constantly showered Naoki with gifts every weekend when they came over to take your family out on a shopping spree and obligatory trip to the cat café.
You didn’t have any relatives that lived close by or else you would’ve asked if they could babysit Naoki and Aizawa was out of the question since his job was just as dangerous and demanding as Shinsou’s. 
Your workplace wasn’t exactly the traditional nightclub, it was actually a very sophisticated bar with tight security and respectful customers. Rarely you got anyone new but the steady stream of regulars was more than enough to keep the place up and running. 
Nobody usually got violent when they had too much to drink but if they did, the bouncers Kendo and Tetsutetsu were both quick to throw them out of the establishment until they sobered up.
Naoki liked to cling to your legs when you were at home and since all your regulars knew of him from that little incident before, no one was surprised when the small boy tucked himself behind you shyly.
The disco music’s volume lowered a tad as Jirou realized that Naoki was with you, reducing it to a much more acceptable level for conversations to flow easier. 
Shinsou sipped his water. Gen was in and out as quickly as she came, and there was no need for him to do anything when you took care of it so fast. Besides, his son hadn’t even noticed him yet. 
Until now.
Beaming widely, Naoki faced his dad and hugged your leg. 
Shinsou fought back a fond smile, waving at him discreetly to avoid catching the attention of the others. He rolled his eyes though when his silent and goofy conversation was interrupted by a Kaminari and Sero obnoxiously hooting from the side.
You remained oblivious, cleaning up a pile of dishes to clear your workspace as Todoroki disappeared into the kitchen where Sato and Tokoyami were continuing to crank out plates of food for the night.
Tugging on your apron, Naoki’s wide eyes met yours as you knelt down to his level. He pointed to someone sitting on the opposite side as his dad.
“Mama, that man looks mean…” He whispered fearfully, cowering behind your legs as you straightened up to your full height. 
“Can I help you?” You asked with a pointed glance, tone hard as you addressed the one intimidating your son.
While any other person would’ve bristled at your icy tone, this burly man just snickered and leaned closer, making his intent clear.
Arching an eyebrow, you crossed your arms over your chest and pulled out your notepad. You hadn’t seen him around before, he must be a newcomer. 
You sighed after a beat of him just ogling you, tapping your pen to the edge of the mini spiral impatiently as you suppressed the urge to vomit at his behavior. “If you’re not going to order anything, please sit at one of the tables instead so that another customer can take your place at the bar.”
Naoki whimpered and scuttled to hide more as the man stood up. He towered over you and the little boy’s heart started to beat faster with fear.
“Oh, is that right, princess?”
You bristled at the nickname and bit the inside of your cheek to stop some very colorful words from escaping, throwing a hard side glance at your husband when he abruptly stood up with a snarl painted on his face.
Moving to stand in front of him, blocking the man’s view from Shinsou and also stopping your husband at the same time should he do anything reckless, you plastered your best customer service smile on your face.
“Please do not call me that.” You stated, making it clear that you weren’t actually asking. “If you cannot treat me with respect then you should leave.”
“Oh?” The man chuckled, the sound grating against your ears unpleasantly. “And what are you gonna do about it, sweet thing?”
Oh, that was it.
“I’m taken.” You responded dryly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I really don’t appreciate how you’re talking to me, and my husband wouldn’t either.”
He smiled a sinister smile, causing your skin to crawl. “I don’t see him.”
And Shinsou was done letting you take this disrespect.
“Hey.” He barked, standing up to take his place next to you. “If a lady tells you to back off, you listen.”
A snort came from the other and then condescending laughter followed. “Yeah right. All girls are ever good for is being a pretty little thing to show off on your arm, am I right?”
“You’re dead wrong, prick.” Shinsou hissed, indigo alight with unparalleled fury as he came up behind you, wrapping beefy arms around your waist and glaring at the guy who had the audacity to harass you like that. “You don’t talk to anybody like this, especially not my wife.”
The man should’ve taken the obvious warning and backed down but he didn’t. Instead, his interest transformed into judgement and you could visibly see the walls coming down and locking as his hatred overtook his entire being.
“Hybrid, huh?” He sneered in disgust at you. “No wonder you went after someone like her.”
Shinsou’s arms curled around you tighter protectively and he stiffened behind you, coiled like a cobra and ready to strike but you held him back again.
But before you could throw him out of Kaminari’s establishment yourself, someone beat you to it.
In two seconds flat, the man who had been snickering at you and high-fiving his buddies folded over, clutching his stomach as his expression contorted in pain.
Naoki planted his hands on his hips and nodded his head proudly as he kicked the man where it hurt. “No one talks to my Mama like that!!”
“Naoki!!” You cried out.
He had slipped away so quietly and so fast that you didn’t notice in time to stop it. 
Leaning over the counter, you spotted him blinking back at you innocently as Yaoyorozu hustled him away from the troublesome men he had just put in his place. 
Bakugou appeared, a menacing aura surrounding his broad frame as he loomed over the sniveling man now cowering beneath him.
“You’re fuckin’ lucky she asked you nicely, cause the rest of us ain’t gonna, bastard.” He snapped, explosions popping from his palms.
Twisting his arm behind his back, the fuming man marched out the front door with the captured one in his iron grip squealing like a pig, followed by Kaminari and Sero taking the others with Kirishima cracking his knuckles while flashing a smile over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him. They were going to teach him a little lesson.
Naoki raised his hands high above his head joyfully, a wide smile spread across his face. “Mama, Mama, did you see?! Did I do good?!”
Immediately, you and Shinsou rushed over to Naoki, pulling him in for a hug.
“Are you okay?!” You exclaimed, scanning over him for any injuries, making sure he isn’t hurt. “Naoki, you can’t just run off like that!! Or kick people!!”
He pouted, lowering his hands slightly. “But Papa taught me how!!”
Shinsou collapsed into a fit of laughter when he heard that and your head snapped towards him. 
Your eyes glittered with a hint of amusement, wry tone rolling off your tongue. “Did he now?”
Naoki nodded vigorously, his mop of purple hair flopping around on his head. “Yup!! He said that if someone’s mean, then they’re a bully and I can fight back!!”
At this point, you didn’t know whether you should applaud your son or scold your husband for teaching him such things. 
Yaoyorozu shook her head as you deftly tickled Naoki’s sides, making him laugh loudly. He looked so very proud of himself, rambling on and on about how he protected you against the big bad scary man, just like his daddy showed him.
Shinsou, who was leaning back against the counter casually as he observed the two of you, pushed off as his son tunneled into his legs.
“Papa, Papa, are you proud of me?” He pleaded to know, staring up at him with wide eyes just like a koala as he hugged his father’s shins.
Shinsou patted his head, brushing the wispy curls away from his eyes and chuckled. “Of course I am, squirt.”
“Toshi!!” You scolded good-naturedly, pushing up onto your feet. 
Despite the talk about how nonviolence is a better route you knew would have to come later, you simply picked up Naoki and rested him on your hip as Shinsou tapped your cheek and murmured into your ear that he was going to go check on things outside.
He tucked your hair behind your ear. “Will you be alright?”
You nodded reassuringly. “Of course. Go. But don’t beat him up too badly, love.”
Shinsou huffed out a curt laugh, the waggle of his eyebrows making you giggle, dissipating the tense atmosphere in an instant.
When he disappeared from the establishment, you took Naoki to the back room to get away from all the craziness and clamor that came with your son kicking the prick in the balls. Midoriya offered to help Todoroki with serving the food while you took care of your son.
“Here you go, little one.” You whispered as you gathered up the coloring books and crayons hidden away in the bigger desk, placing it on the smaller one Tokoyami built just for him. 
Naoki clapped his hands excitedly, making grabby hands for it, a happy noise emitting from him as soon as gave it to him. “Thank you, Mama!!”
While he busied himself with coloring in a tiger with blues and yellows, you kept him company. That was, until the door clicked open. 
You stood in a second, running over to him and flung your arms around his neck to hug him tight. Naoki remained engrossed in coloring in the Disney Princess on the page as you checked over the black panther.
“You okay?” You whispered shakily, a hint of fear slipping in as your collected façade cracked.
Shinsou rested his forehead against yours, breathing softly as he cupped your jaw. “Yes, I’m alright. Don’t worry, doll.”
The corners of your mouth twitched as you protested childishly, “... ‘m not worried.”
He exhales sharply, chuckling faintly at your characteristic stubbornness and hummed nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, princess.”
He lowered his voice, murmuring repeatedly that he was okay as your trembling fingers brushed over his bruised knuckles. They were a little busted up and bloody from a particularly hefty punch he delivered to the jerk’s jaw. He was going to feel that in the morning. 
Shinsou kept you in his embrace for as long as Naoki took to finish coloring his picture. By the time he did, you had calmed down enough to go back out and finish your shift.
Wiping sweaty palms on your uniform, you sniffled and raised your head up high. You could do this. You had come a long way from the little girl who became paralyzed at the mere sight of a drop of blood. 
He was a bit battered but he would heal. He was okay. 
As you bustled about behind the counter, fighting back a smile as Kaminari sashayed up to you and asked for your favorite so that he could give it back to you, you laughed out loud when Shinsou smacked him upside the head for doing such a thing. 
Naoki ran around, looking for more bullies to kick in the balls before Shoji caught onto what he was doing and diverted his attention to helping Jirou spin some tunes, with some earplugs in, of course, so that his hearing wasn’t damaged.
Shinsou’s cheeks colored as you stretched up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his temple.
“Thank you for defending my honor.” You whispered somewhat teasingly. “It’s nice to know that my boys have my back.”
His chest rumbled with laughter and an arm looped around your middle, drawing you close to his side as the night rush slowed down and you were finally given a chance to breathe. Tail wrapping around your hip, the cool metal of his ring kissed your skin as his fingers intertwined with yours. 
Ignoring the banter of an indignant Naoki and a pouty Kaminari, Shinsou nudged his nose against your temple and sighed softly.
“Forever and always, doll.”
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corpsedaydream · 3 years
Note
Hi! I dont know if you write this, but can i request for angsty-fluff imagine for corpse? Maybe when you’re jealous? Thank u❤️ love ur writings
u ask for jealousy and angst, and i said hell fucking yeah
hope u enjoy! 
word count: 1.6k
_________________________
it’s fine
Corpse was ever so charismatic. It was something about him that was impossible to deny. Even when he would get misjudged by people, thinking he may be this intimidating presence purely because of how he dressed and sounded, it would only take a few exchanges of sentences between him and a stranger for them to instantly change their mind and feel drawn to him, instead. You knew this better than anyone, after all, it had been one of the factors in what had made you fall for him so hard and so fast.
The only issue was that, sometimes, he could have the same effect on others and, sometimes, when you caught someone else clearly having some heart eyes for your man, that brought forth the little green monster inside of you. He was magnetic, and as happy as you were that the world was so intrigued by him and he was having all the success he deserved, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of you that wished that magnetic pull only worked on you.
It seemed there were certain days when Corpse managed to turn on this charismatic side of him even more so. Today had happened to be one of those days. It was good, because it was a day the two of you had planned to spend together. But when you went out to lunch and the server definitely let her hand rest on his arm a little too long and said things a little too flirtatious and hardly acknowledged your presence, you started to lose that good feeling.
You didn’t say anything about it, even though you kind of wished he would have figured that him giving the girl a back and forth was encouraging her more and upsetting you further. But you were determined to have a good day with your boyfriend, you didn’t want to start any drama with him.
He asked you if you were okay on the way back to his place, noticing you were being quiet. You told him you were and left it at that, even if you did want to say more.
Finally, in the safety of his home that was like a bubble in which was just for the two of you, you were feeling better. Quality time was your love language and his was physical touch, something you could both give each other with ease when there was no outside interruption. Between the little talks, the exploration of hands over each other, the giggles that turned into wiping tears of laughter from your face and shared kisses, you swore you could spend the rest of your life like this and be happy.
And then the bubble burst.
“Ah, shit, (Y/N).” He began, and the mood between you instantly changed.
“What?”
“They need a tenth player right now and no one else can get online.” He had promised that today was about you. And usually, you would be completely okay with him going and joining in on the streams, often you loved sitting by him and watching him get so invested in the games. Except lately, you’d been feeling at an arms length from him and you hated it. You wanted his undivided attention today.
“And?” You were being short with him, you wanted him to know you weren’t okay with this right now.
“It’ll just be a few games...”
You let out a huff and turned your head to the side, looking away from him. You were being stubborn. You didn’t want to tell him what to do, you wanted him to figure it out on his own, that you didn’t want him to play and wanted him to stay right here in this moment with you.
“You can come sit with me?” He spoke again as you remained silent, seemed as if he wasn’t figuring it out.
“Just go play. It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine.
-
Sitting on your own now, you felt bare without your limbs being all tangled with his beneath the blanket like they were earlier. You had tried to turn on the television to watch something, but everything on just seemed to annoy you.
With a sigh, you pressed your hands to your knees and stood up, walking towards Corpses gaming room. At first, you were going to walk in, giving in to the want that was craving to be by his side, but upon hearing a number of female voices, that jealousy appeared inside you again and you walked away.
It was slightly irrational, you knew these people were his friends, but today had really gotten to you.
At an attempt to distract yourself, you opened up Tik Tok, but all your for you page seemed to be was more girls wanting your boyfriend.
“Fucking hell.” You said out loud, closing the app and opening up Twitter next. But you should’ve known it would’ve been worse on there, Corpse seemed to be trending every day on that app, you told yourself you really should have known better for that one.
However, the next social media app click was deliberate. You knew that Corpse had been reposting stories of people using his song and you decided on treating yourself to some more sweet torture. And sure enough, his story was filled with more girls. Firing that jealousy and insecurity you had been feeling today even more.
“Fuck this.” You announced, standing to your feet and feeling tears of frustration build in your eyes.
Once you had finished gathering your belongings, you were just about to make an exit when that crazy thing of timing pulled a fast one on you as Corpse emerged from his gaming room.
“What are you doing?” He questioned you, spotting your hand gripping the handle on his front door.
Seeing him should’ve made you feel better, but it only caused more tears to well up, so you quickly looked away from him.
“I’m going home.”
“What-no, why?” He came closer to you then and you turned more towards the door.
“Because you obviously don’t want me here.”
“What the fuck? (Y/N), of course I do. What are you even saying right now?” He was by your side now, grabbing your hand from the handle and holding it in his. His other went up to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to face him and that’s when he saw the glaze of tears in your eyes. “Hey, baby,” Worry sparked up in him. “You’re upset...” He stated the obvious and you shook your head out of his grip, directing your vision to the ground.
You thought he might create some distance between you both when you did that, but instead, he did the opposite. He pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapping snugly around your waist and his other hand resting on the back of your head to encourage you against him.
“Don’t, I’m going.” You spoke, but your words were meek, you didn’t actually want to leave and he knew that.
“No. You’re not.” He argued back, his arms pulling you in even closer. “I want you here.” He told you and that’s what made you snap.
“No you don’t!” Your voice got louder, matching the movements of you bracing your arms against him and pushing him back, breaking the human contact. He was in shock, watching you with cautious eyes. “If you did, you would’ve spent time with me and only me today. You wouldn’t have left me alone!” You became more emotional as you spoke, a few tears managing to spill onto your cheeks.
“Baby-”
“No!” You cut him off. “Don’t ‘baby’ me right now.” You took a moment to wipe under your eyes before continuing because you knew this next admission would cause you some more tears. “You know how hard it is to compete it with every other girl who’s all about you right now? They’re everywhere, and they’re all so fucking beautiful. I know you see them, I’m not them, Corpse.” Your voice broke into a sob as his name left your lips and he felt his heart break to see you in that state.
He wasn’t sure if you still needed space, but he couldn’t stand in front of you while you cried and not do anything. So instead, he once again brought his arms around you, but this time he scooped you up, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips so he could carry you.
You continued to cry against his neck as he walked the both of you to his room and when he placed you down onto his bed, he was instantly beside you, cradling you against him.
“I need you to listen me,” He began once you had started to calm down, he wanted to make sure you paid attention. “You are so important to me. So fucking important to me, (Y/N).” His eyes were boring into yours and he brought his hand up to wipe the wetness from your cheeks before continuing. “I don’t want you to be anyone else.” He was speaking with force, but it wasn’t aggressive, he was wanting to make sure that you really understood the depth to his words.
“It’s just, everyone seems to want you and I’m just-”
“Don’t you dare put yourself down.” Corpse cut you off before you could finish. For a moment, he pressed his lips to your forehead before moving his face back so he could look at you again. “I only want you. You’re it for me, baby.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“With my whole fucking heart.”
“I love you, I really love you.” You told him, your emotions were still running high, but you were feeling a whole lot better.
“I love you, too.”
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Text
Not The Same (GeorgeNotFound)
summary : you put out a song, but it attracted the wrong type of crowd and caused too many misunderstandings.
trigger warnings : threats (including death and doxing), panic attacks, taking of meds. 
"you're THOSE type of fans, huh?" you read the comments on your newest song release.
and that was the start of your downfall.
-
you and your dad really enjoyed singing. at any opportunity you two got, you would be doing a duet.
whether that would be at at a close relative's wedding or your at home karaoke set up, you two knew how to entertain people.
though singing was your passion, you ended up being too busy with school and trying to graduate with a diploma to even think about singing again.
but you swore to make a career of your singing after high school. you just loved it too much.
but then, you didn't go to college for music, which pretty much shocked your parents and your friends since they knew your only passion in life was singing.
but you took a different direction. you still wanted to sing and you were trying your hardest to find a way to make that your career.
someday, anyway. but you needed to have a plan to fall back into in case anything goes wrong.
you were a realist, after all.
so off to college you went.
you spent long hours studying for tests after tests, sat through hours of lectures, did endless amounts of projects.
in the end, it was all worth the wait and fatigue. you graduated top of your class.
you went off to be an intern, clocked in more hours before you could fully go into the next phase of your life.
and after those long hours, you finally made the decision (with the support of your parents) to take a gap year.
but before anyone panics. your gap year was not all fun in games where you took to rest and lay in bed all day.
you took the gap year to see if the music industry fits you. to see if you even had the chance to succeed.
and if it did, you could finally have your dream job. but even if it didn't you were not going to be upset if you needed to fall back onto your backup plan.
in the duration of the gap year, you took voice lessons, and poetry classes for song writing.
and with whatever you have learnt, you took that into writing songs that you felt really relate to your life experiences.
so you spend at least a couple months writing multiple songs.
after almost 2 years, you finally came out with your first song. and it definitely got recognition. more than you thought you'd get, if you were being completely honest.
and that was what pushed you to sit your ass back on your desk to write more, and go into your makeshift studio and make the words into songs.
your parents were ecstatic to hear that you were finally doing the things you loved. and you knew you'd never get this far if it weren't for your family's support.
and so your music journey began.
it was going well for years. you were finally happy doing the one thing you enjoyed doing.
and you definitely think you were good at it. seeing and hearing the positive feedbacks from your family, friends and listeners. 
you felt good. 
but you lost that feeling when you came out with a new single, called ‘fan of you’. 
you spent a while working hard on that song and you felt relieved when it was finally released. it was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 
and you weren’t sure how one thing led to another, if you were being honest. at first, you received good feedback for your new songs. you even gained new listeners and your spotify rank rised. 
but then it didn’t anymore. 
your twitter flooded with mentions and your instagram full of tagged pictures and dms by accounts you’ve never heard of. 
but you noticed a similarity with all of the spam. a guy name george. georgenotfound for short.
you being you, you looked into it. and that was when all of the information hit you. and all you had to look up was your name on twitter, and there it was, the longest thread of tweets you have ever seen in your life. 
you took time to read it all, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial. 
there must be an understanding. you didn’t know this guy name george. you’ve seen his face on pinterest once a while when you scrolled, yes. but you never looked into him. 
this amazing person took their time to gather every bit of information there was about the scandal, which you were grateful for, or else you’d be scouring the internet for hours. 
to summarise what you read, there was this artist by the name of tia jade who came out with a song a few months prior to yours called ‘just a fan.’ 
it was a good song, some say, and you could agree. it was professionally written and produced. but many fans of george found out that the song was about him. 
not just about him, but about her falling in love with him, when she has never met him. and when his fans started to really listen and analyse the song, it got creepier. 
basically, the song was about a fan falling in love with a celebrity/content creator and that they want to know them beyond their persona online. 
but tia had apologised a little after the song came out, saying that she made that song based on a fan liking a content creator, and not about her falling for george. 
but when you read enough of the issue, it definitely did seem like she was making that song to tell her story about falling for george. but she obviously needed an excuse to cover it up. 
hence the apology. 
and then you read about how they analysed your song, too.
they compared your song to tia���s and found it to have similar stories. stories about how a normal girl is falling in love with the man by the name of george, who had millions of followers on all social medias. 
and if you admitted it to yourself, your song did seem to come out that way. especially if your mentality had been there. clearly your song could have been interpreted in many different ways. 
you scrolled to the very bottom of the thread where there was a video of the man himself, george. he was addressing the issue. 
“i don’t know how this happened twice. i thought once was weird enough, but.” he paused, focusing on building something on his screen. 
“having heard of a song being about me again now makes my skin crawl.” he finished. it was short but enough to make his fans understand where he was coming from. 
you scrolled further to see the replies of the thread. you wanted to know what were people saying about it. 
and you definitely regretted your decision to do that. 
threats everywhere. death threats, threats of beating you up, threats of doxing you. god the negative comments were drowned by the one’s that genuinely thought nothing wrong of your song. 
you called you mom. this was the time you needed her advice. you needed to be told what to do. you didn’t want to accidentally trigger people. 
you and her were on the phone for hours. she listened to you cried to her. she heard the painful sobs that came out of your mouth whenever you reminded yourself of what people were calling you on the internet. 
she heard you cry silently on call when you saw your address and phone number being leaked on twitter. 
but even through all of that, you joked around with your mom. “well, this was a hell of a way to be trending.” 
you did what she told you to do. get a new phone number, stay in a hotel for a couple days while you try to settle the raging crowd of georgenotfound fans down. 
in the span of a couple weeks, you got yourself a new number, a new house and a new car. you weren’t taking any chances. 
you told no one besides your mom of the new changes, just to be safe. 
and no, the threats did not cease. at all. these people did not have a life, constantly up in your dms, telling you to jump off a cliff or them hoping that a robber stabs you and leaves you dying. 
you took your time trying to figure out a way to talk to george. or a way to speak out about this. 
you didn’t want to write a half-assed notes app paragraph apologising when- first of all, you had nothing to apologise for and second, you had too much to say to fit it all in a notes app. 
lucky for you, you didn’t need to start your own channel or make a sit down video on your own. 
your recording label had brought up the idea of a documented series about you and how you became a singer about a year ago, and only started filming and posting the episodes a couple months prior on youtube. 
so you took the series to your advantage. you pitched in the idea to your manager, to which she agreed to immediately, knowing that it was best you talked about it now. 
this was how it played out on the perspective of viewers who watched that episode. 
“bless you.” your producer says after you paused your singing in the mic as you stopped to sneeze. 
you gave him a smile and a thumbs up from inside the booth. 
the camera cuts to another clip. 
the cameraman pans as they captured movers coming in and out of your old house, picking up your heavy furniture and boxes into large trucks to move into the new place.
 it cuts again. this time it shows you scrolling on your phone with a focused face while your manager types something vigorously on her computer. 
the camera tries to focus on your phone, and sees that you were on twitter, reading a lot of tweets under your name. 
you exited the app and slide it away, going into youtube next, reading the comments on your song ‘fan of you’. 
you scrolled far, clicking on some of the comments, trying to read the replies to certain comments you saw. 
the camera cuts into a black screen. which then cuts again into a new scene, where you sat on your new kitchen counter talking to your mother, who sat on the chair in front of you. 
your hair was up in a ponytail. a messy one. you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that seemed far too big on you, and your feet covered with fluffy socks.
you were nodding to whatever she was saying to you. it was clear your mind was elsewhere as your eyes were unfocused. 
the scene cuts again. 
you were seen on the couch, your legs were tucked into your arms and your head down, body shaking. it was obvious you were crying. 
you were alone, your mother no where to be seen. 
that was the first time the camera caught you crying. 
the scene cuts as you were going to get up from the couch. 
now, you were in the kitchen again, opening the refrigerator to take a water bottle, then walking to your room upstairs. 
the camera follows behind you slowly into your room. 
it hadn’t been the cleanest. there were a couple shirts on the floor, your bed undone, cups on your side table, your laptop open on your desk. 
you were seen opening a drawer, taking out a small white bottle. you unscrewed the bottle and took out 2 pills, popping them in your mouth, drinking water straight away after that to swallow. 
the scene cuts again. 
this time, you were seated on the couch in the studio, the atmosphere dark and quiet. 
your hair was more kept this time, being help up in a clip. 
you were wearing straight jeans and a slightly oversized sweatshirt. you looked more refreshed this time. but it was obvious you hadn’t slept in a while because of your eyes.
your eyes that usually held a lot of happiness and joy turned dull. 
“it’s been a while since i’ve spoken to a camera.” you offered a small smile. your song ‘just a fan’ was playing in the background of the clip. 
the scene cuts again. 
“when i released that song, i was genuinely proud of the work i had done.” you paused for a while. besides the song playing in the background, it was silent. 
“but i guess the joy didn’t last very long.” the scene cuts there. 
it transitioned to a collage of what people were saying about you. it showed clips of people talking about it on youtube. they even showed george talking about it. 
and it cuts again. 
it showed a different clip this time. a clip of your ex boyfriend and you at the beach on a picnic, that was taken by a close friend of yours. 
this was when you were still in college. 
it showed all the fun memories you two made while you were still together. 
it showed a video of him studying in the library, flipping through his papers and scrolling through his laptop. it was clear he was hard at work, not noticing you filming him. 
but then the scene cuts again. and the music turned somber. 
your ex boyfriend’s grave. 
it was the day you were visiting him. you sat down next to his stone, a blanket under you. 
you were just staring at his stone, not moving. 
and it cuts again. 
“he was one of the most driven person i have ever met.” you told the camera. 
“he knew when to be serious and when to have fun.” you looked down in your hands and played with your rings. 
“all he ever talked about was becoming a surgeon. he worked hard in his intern years and continued being passionate through his residency.” you spoke up. 
“people had only nice things to say about him. the only bad thing they would say about him is that he can be pretty uptight sometimes, especially when he was stressed about something.” you laughed a little. 
“i was a huge fan of him, even when we just saw each other in the hallways. he’s just amazing. i’ve always wanted to be just like him.”
“i wanted to write a song about him but i didn’t the song to be sad.” you said. 
“and that was when the song ‘fan of you’ was created. 
the scene cuts there and goes into another. 
you were in the recording booth again, this time, you were singing into the mic. 
the camera pans to your producer and manager dancing and bobbing their heads to the beat. 
the scene cuts, officially ending it with a black screen with ‘the end’ in a fancy white font. 
you busied yourself with writing new songs as your name got trended again on twitter. 
and george has never felt worse about himself ever in his entire life. 
-
he watched the episode as soon as dream sent it to him. 
“you’re an asshole, george.” dream sends to him, along with the link of the video on youtube. 
as the video ends, he decides to read the comments, wondering what it was like down there. 
it was the worse mistake he had ever made in a while. 
but he knew he deserved it. he did assumed it was about him, just like the last song made with a drawing of his glasses as their cover photo on spotify. 
this time, there was genuinely no reason to think that this song was about him, or anyone with a following whatsoever. he just believed what his chat told him. 
sure, there were some familiarity of the character in your song and him, but the world did have 7.6 billion people living on it. 
“so, here i am apologising.” george says to his camera, live. his tone was very sincere and apologetic. 
“this shouldn’t have gotten this far. they shouldn’t have gotten threats at all, let alone death threats. they shouldn’t have woken up to the world knowing where they live and what their phone number is.” 
“and if you’re watching. i sincerely apologise. i clearly was full of myself.” george finishes. ending the live with a small wave. 
and were you watching? hell yes. 
and that was the day the two of you followed each other on instagram. 
he used your songs as his intros of his live, (with your permission, of course.) you showed in your documentary that you were watching whenever he was live or watching his youtube videos. 
and that was the start to a beautiful relationship. 
you sat on the chair, going live. you waved as people started joining. it went from hundreds, to thousands in seconds. 
as you were talking and clicking on your keyboard and mouse, playing a game, you felt arms around your shoulders. 
you smiled, yet continued playing. 
“why are you live on my account?” he laughs. 
you disconnected the headphones so that he could hear what you were hearing. 
“george, you’re being replaced.” dream said on discord. 
george smiles, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. “that was well deserved.” 
120 notes · View notes
blu-joons · 3 years
Text
Your Relationship Gets Revealed ~ Park Jimin
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Your eyes looked to Jimin as soon as he walked into the apartment, gripping his phone tightly in his hand. The statement had been released a little over an hour ago, with you far too nervous to even dare to look at the reaction of the fans.
“Well,” he began, walking in slowly and taking a seat beside you, “there’s been quite a few comments in response.”
You knew how much he loved to toy you and for just how long he’d drag this out on you too, determined to push all of your buttons and your anticipation.
The two of you had faced some rumours for quite some time, and after being spotted out for dinner last night, you knew that now you had to give answers. As hard as you knew it was going to be, honesty was the only way to build a bridge with the fans.
“Have you read through the comments?” You asked him as he unlocked his phone, scrolling through his apps until he landed on Twitter, the one that had received the most attention.
Jimin almost got a kick out of seeing how terrified you were to know what the fans thought of you. As you kept shuffling closer to him to take a look, he kept moving further away, refusing to give in so easily to you.
“I read through quite a few whilst I was still at the office,” he replied, “would you like to read through a few of them too?”
“That’s a stupid question, you already know my answer to that one.”
His head nodded as you watched on intently as the app began to load. It didn’t take long before he was on their official account where the statement had been released, pressing onto the comments section and scrolling down.
It took you a few moments to move closer to Jimin once again as the panic began to set in. Although they were just comments, they were a huge deal for you both and your relationship too.
“Take a look then,” Jimin teased, turning his phone so that you could read the first comment. It was surprisingly kind as top comments went, congratulating you both on your relationship and requesting that other fans were nice to you too.
As Jimin began to scroll, several other comments of similar sentiments appeared, beginning to ease your heart. There was still a long way to go, but it was a start for you both at least.
“As I left one of the managers told me to check out some of the tags on Twitter too.”
Your head nodded as Jimin exited the statement, opening up his search bar. Straight away your body flinched when you saw that your name was in the trending bar.
“If someone’s telling me to look then I’m pretty sure that must mean something good has happened.”
Unlike you, Jimin barely reacted. He was used to having his name in the headlines, millions of tweets were sent out about him every day, and not a single one managed to faze him anymore.
The attention was something that you knew would come with dating Jimin, but no matter how hard you tried, it was something you simply couldn’t prepare yourself for either.
“I don’t think I want to look,” you admitted.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s nothing to fret about.”
Your head nodded, although you were still far from convinced as Jimin clicked on the top trending tag that mentioned the two of you, intrigued to see what was being said.
He tilted his phone slightly out of your view as the page loaded, unable to hold back his chuckle as he opened up the top page and read through the first tweet that came up.
“What is it?”
“This is unfair,” you overheard him say, staring back at him, desperate to know what had caught his attention.
Fed up with wating, you ended up grabbing a hold of Jimin’s hand and turning the phone around. Your body tensed up as soon as you read through it though, surprised to see the user mentioning how pretty you were. The number of likes the tweet had was simply astonishing, a figure higher than you had ever seen before.
“Wow.”
Jimin’s head nodded in agreement with your comment, relieved as you let go of a sigh, finally beginning to settle and see a trend of acceptance from his army of fans.
“They’re liking you more than they are me right now.”
As Jimin continued to scroll, his point was very quickly being proven. Several fans were questioning how he’d managed to get you, interested if he knew just how hard he was punching with you.
The whole response had left you in quite a daze, unable to piece together what was so special about you in the eyes of the fans. You were thankful more than anything that they seemed open to welcoming you into their fan base.
“My ego is going to get far too big if you keep scrolling,” you giggled, resting yourself into Jimin’s side, “don’t you think we’ve read enough now?”
His head shook, keen to do just that and fill you up with plenty of love from all of his fans. “I want to keep reading, even if I wish a bit more of their attention was focused on me. It’s nice to see them being so kind about you.”
His arm wrapped around your waist to pull you in tighter to his side so that you could get a better look. Every tweet brought a smile to his face, relieved that you had climbed your biggest hurdle relatively unscathed.
“Don’t you think they’re being too kind?” You asked Jimin as you made yourself comfortable.
“No,” he laughed in response, “I don’t think there’s such a thing as being too kind about someone as incredible as you are. I’m just glad that the fans can see how I feel about you and see the qualities that I fell in love with too.”
Your eyes rolled, expecting nothing less from Jimin as a soft kiss was placed against the top of your head. Although it was small, it carried a great deal of meaning, above all else, a slight envy that the fans seemed to adore you as much as they did.
As much as Jimin loved to joke about the divide in attention, he couldn’t deny how happy it made his heart to see that so many others could see what a great person you were.
“I always knew that the fans would fall in love with you like I did, but I never expected our relationship to get as big of a reaction as it seems to have done.”
“Me too, I can’t tell you how nervous I’ve been waiting for you to get home to have a look.”
His head shook, squeezing you closer once again, “you had no reason to be nervous, regardless of what the reaction would have been, I would have still been here right now.”
“Just with hundreds of thousands of people wishing that you weren’t, with those people wishing that they could be in my position.”
“Perhaps,” he sniggered, “but thankfully we don’t have to worry about anything like that. I think you might be the more popular one in this relationship looking at social media right now anyway.”
Your head instantly shook, “you’re the superstar for the reason Jimin, I’m no one.”
“You’re definitely someone now,” he whispered, pointing back to the trending page.
“The fans will get bored soon enough.”
“Oh, you’ve got a lot to learn about my fans.”
---
Masterlist
173 notes · View notes
sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years
Text
you’re someone i just want around: VI
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“I think I’m catching feelings
And I don’t know if this is empathy I feel
Just hold on
Remember when you said this was the last time?”
Sex, Eden
A/N: okay this chapter has probably been my favourite to write so far because we are finally. finally!!!!!! getting to a lil smidgen of softness!!!!! and the softness will only continue like originally I had a different lyric in mind for this chapter (a hozier lyric to stay on brand) and decided that it was too soft so I stocked it away to use in the future when things get even sweeter and harry gets even dumber 😌 we really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! and please remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated!!!! not just by us but by all content creators!!!!! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it!!!! spreading content keeps creators motivated!!!!! and so do messages about what you liked!!!! it lets us know what sort of vibe to add in later!!!! okay now that that’s out of the way!!!! let’s dive in 😼  
ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist
word count: 29.1k
content/warnings: a good healthy dose of denial and justification to deny feelings, the defamation of gherkin pickles, pet names (literally), a strong independent woman who don’t need no man, a (not quite) man who definitely needs a strong independent woman, brunch served with a side of emotional trauma, breaking promises, nsfw social distancing, and Harry once again ignoring the phrase “bros before hoes”
///
Harry knows he’s good at a lot of things.
He’s good at picking up on fashion trends and turning them into timeless styles, molding each piece to fit his own persona with ease.  He’s good at identifying the locational origins of wines within five seconds of the sweet liquid crossing over his tongue.  He’s good at mixing his own drinks as well, always managing to craft the perfect concoction that suits each drinker’s needs.  He’s good at creating gallery walls in his apartment, at charming anyone into giving him what he wants with a slip of his mouth, and at pissing off his friends until they’re threatening to stake him just to get a little peace and quiet.  Harry is good at chess, at reciting poetry from memory, and at painting his non-dominant hand’s fingernails without smudging any nail polish onto his icy skin.  Harry is fucking excellent at coaxing orgasms out from his lovers.  He knows that he’s good at a lot of things.
The issue, he realizes the day after he asks Y/N out on a real date, is that planning a real date is not one of those things.
This, Harry rationalizes to himself, is not his fault.  After all, the last time he’d been on a real date was during the Victorian era, and Harry is fairly certain that taking a chaperoned stroll around his beloved’s estate garden isn’t in fashion anymore.  And when the way all of those dates ended is taken into account, Harry doesn’t think his past experiences should be the marker for a good date, anyways.  
It’s this frustrating lack of knowledge that leads Harry to do what he always does when he doesn’t know the answer to something: he Googles it.
With the top of the line Macbook Harry had purchased a few months back with the money from a CEO of some candle company perched on his lap, Harry relaxes back onto his leather couch, kicking his brown boots up onto the matching footrest as he does so.  Once the search engine is open and the cursor is blinking in front of his face, however, the vampire pauses, his manicured fingernails perched over the keys.  What question could he possibly Google for his situation?
Harry twists his lion head ring around his cool finger as he thinks, his tongue tucked between his lips in concentration while potential queries run through his head.  Ideas for a first date with a girl you’ve been fucking for a month.  Things to do in L.A. with a mortal when you’re a two hundred year old vampire.  Places to take someone after drinking their blood.  A snort echoes from Harry’s throat as the last idea pops into his head.  Somehow, Harry isn’t confident in what results those questions will show him.
Tapping his black lacquered nails against the keys, Harry purses his lips as he loses himself in thought.  How had he even gotten himself into this position?  The reason he hasn’t planned a date in centuries is because he doesn’t date, and for good reason.  What use does a soulless vampire have for dating?  Mortals use romantic outings to open their hearts to one another, and Harry, in contrast, can’t open what he doesn’t have. 
Despite his wondering, however, he knows exactly how he got himself into this situation: he let himself get jealous of a fake-tanned, shaggy-haired idiot named Jacob, a name that Harry despises on principle alone.  It had been a perfectly fine name until that awful Meyer woman decided to make it one of the banes of Harry’s existence.  And while Harry doesn’t have a particularly forgiving nature, he had just finally begun to get over the association, but thanks to that hallway confrontation at the end of Y/N’s date with the obtusely orange fool, Harry is now reminded that he will forever hate the name with a burning passion.  And shaggy hair.  And fake tans. And while the irony of him, a vampire—with a middle name of Edward, for Christ’s sake—hating an insignificant mortal named Jacob, simply because he dared to make a pass at the object of Harry’s fascination, is not lost on him, all of that was pushed aside the moment Harry smelled the perfume his fascination wore for the mortal boy. 
Y/N never wears perfume for him. And though she had assured him that her dressing up had been for him, he can’t shake the fact that Jacob had gotten to experience it first. 
It’s not that Y/N needs to wear perfume for him.  In fact, if Harry’s being honest with himself, he likes that she doesn’t spritz artificial scents all over her body before letting him into her home and between her legs.  She has one of the sweetest natural scents Harry’s ever had the pleasure of inhaling, all lavender and honey and utterly intoxicating.  Of course, as all mortals are, Y/N is unaware of the mouth watering fragrance that drips from her skin, while Harry is all too aware of it at all times, but her obliviousness to her natural scent doesn’t change the fact that Harry would bathe in it if he could.  If it were possible, Harry would pump an entire room full of her personal cloud of lavender and honey, lay back on the floor, turn down the lights, spark a joint, and let himself get lost in the very thought of her.  That would be Harry’s personal definition of Nirvana.
But Y/N isn’t aware of her natural, skin sweetening aroma like Harry is, which means two things.  Firstly, that Y/N doesn’t feel the need to smear anything unnatural on her body to attract Harry; she knows she doesn’t need to go through all that trouble.  And that was fine with Harry, until he realized the second thing, which is that there potentially could be someone that Y/N would go to all that trouble for if he doesn’t keep her entertained and occupied.  She had told him her date with Jacob hadn’t been on her terms, and that she’d done it just to be courteous towards a co-worker, but that doesn’t sedate the truth: There will always be a maddening possibility that occasions could come into play in which Y/N will spray a choking cloud of gardenia and freesia over herself, all in the hopes of appealing a suitor.  The issue is that in those hypothetical cases, the suitor Y/N would be trying to impress wouldn’t be Harry.
Actually, that’s only the first issue. The second issue is that it could be another fraternity moron with an equally stupid name. 
After the vampire had come upon Y/N ending her date in front of her door, just minutes before their own rendezvous was scheduled, Harry had felt an initial burst of blind rage, and everything after is a blur.  He vaguely remembers trying to make Jacob uncomfortable and delighting in how he succeeded, until he saw the anger on Y/N’s sweet face.  He remembers a brief discussion about limits and honesty, and about how she was only interested in him, and that he shouldn’t waste his time stressing about her supposedly dormant dating life.  And, most importantly, he remembers asking Y/N to accompany him on a real date, one that would blow her date with the VeggieTales carrot out of the water.
Now, of course, he’s beginning to regret his impulsive decision, purely for the fact that he now has to figure out how to woo a mortal girl just enough to keep her away from creeps with horribly coiffed hair.
And yet, despite this regret…there’s something new curling inside his belly as he types the phrase date ideas for L.A. into the search bar, the blinking cursor reflecting in his eyes before he presses the enter key and millions of results pop up.  Ah, the joys of the internet, he thinks as he scours the results with inhuman speed.  It’ll take Harry a few different clicks to find the perfect activity for himself and Y/N, and his hyperfocus on the topic will stop him from over analyzing that new feeling twisting inside him.
It’s a win-win situation, if he can say so himself.
Harry’s halfway through the first disappointing article (somehow, he doesn’t think taking Y/N on a hike is very romantic) when the door to his condo opens and reveals Mitch in the frame, dressed in his usual casual attire, this time of blue jeans and a plaid shirt.  Harry has spent the last century trying to refine the older vampire’s taste in clothing, even going so far as to once donate the entirety of Mitch’s closet to a homeless shelter, but all his efforts have been in vain, as his friend still insists on wearing the standard (and boring) style for every decade they’ve lived through together.
“Hey,” Mitch greets from the end of the corridor with a nonchalant nod, shutting the door behind himself before sauntering further into the living room. “Thought we were meeting at the bar at eight?”
It takes Harry a moment to remember the agreement Mitch refers to, his brow creasing as his eyes flicker to the corner of his computer screen.  By the time he registers the numbers 8:41 shining back at him, the memory of agreeing to get drinks with Mitch after his evening gig has resurfaced. “Fuck, I’m sorry.  I lost track of time.”
“I thought so.” Mitch moves the decorative pillow next to Harry on the couch, taking a seat in his usual spot. His voice is slightly sarcastic as he gives Harry a knowing look. “That’s been happening a lot lately.  Lapses in your memory and such.”
“It's old age, I suppose.” Harry’s lips quirk up in amusement, although he knows that Mitch’s comment is pointed towards a subject they’re both acquainted with, courtesy of Harry’s absence on their annual Vegas trip about a week prior. “It’s finally getting to me.”
The long-haired immortal makes a vague sound of humorous acknowledgement, but offers no other response as he turns his gaze to the younger vampire. 
Harry watches as his friend’s expert eyes appraise his appearance, examining how the older vampire takes note of the messy state of Harry’s hair that indicates he’s been tugging on it in frustration, the redness of his lips, the way he’s curled over his open laptop.  Although he makes no further comment on Harry’s newfound tendencies, his brows furrow in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“I, uh—” The amusement is replaced by an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness that sweeps through Harry’s entire body. “I’m doing research.”
When he’s given no other explanation, Mitch prompts his younger friend. “On?”
“I...asked that girl from the club out on a date— Y/N. Like, I invited her on a proper one.” Harry elaborates, twisting his lionhead ring around his finger as he speaks. “But I don’t really know, like, what to do with her.  I’m a little out of touch with what a typical twenty-something woman wants to do on a real date.”
And this is another thing Harry is usually good at— being confident and sure of himself.  Normally, he speaks with ease and a nonchalant cadence to his words, lacking any worry about how he’ll be perceived.  Harry knows what he wants, and knows how to articulate it.  Right now, however, he feels the complete opposite.  There’s a tension aching its way through his muscles and settling into the pit of his stomach, curling around those organs that haven’t been truly needed in years, and the utterly bemused expression weaving its way onto Mitch’s face doesn’t help.
The quiet vampire cocks his head to the side upon receiving this news, propping one foot up onto Harry’s coffee table and addressing him with a mocking air. “Why are you taking her on an actual date? From what you’ve told me— which isn’t much, and that strains our best friend reputation, if I’m being honest— I thought you two had an...understanding?”
“We did.  We do.” Harry stumbles over his words as he half shuts the laptop, setting it down on the coffee table and giving Mitch’s foot a quick playful shove off the lacquered surface as he repositions himself. “But she went on a date with someone else, so I have to—”
“Are you jealous?” His friend cuts over him with an incredulous tone, and the disbelief sends a flare of something akin to shame through Harry’s body. “Because she had a date?”
“I’m not jealous.” With a firm voice, Harry manages to scoff at the very notion. “I may be a monster, but my eyes are red, not green. It’s just—”
“Well, technically, they are.”
The immortal ignores the shit-eating correction. “—occurred to me that our arrangement will end if Y/N starts seeing some mortal bloke. So, if she wants a relationship, then I can fabricate one for her.”
Although the excuse slips off his tongue easily enough, Harry refuses to meet Mitch’s eyes as he picks up his laptop and opens it again, clicking his way onto another article in the search results.  The older vampire’s stare feels as if it’s scorching his icy skin, and Harry can’t exactly say he enjoys the sensation, but it’s better than the alternative of admitting to Mitch—and to himself—that he may harbour the smallest trace of feelings for the human girl.
However, Mitch seems to buy the rushed explanation. “Fabricate a relationship?” He repeats, scratching the base of his chin slowly. “Doesn’t that seem a little...cruel?”
“It’s not.  It’s only for a bit, and once I’m done with her, I’ll probably just…” The words lodge in his throat for some unknown reason, but he forces them out. “I’ll probably just wipe myself from her mind, and she…” Harry’s sharp teeth tug on his plump bottom lip. “She won’t remember me.  It’ll be fine.”
Yes, Harry repeats to himself as he scrolls through all the results Google has to offer.  It’ll be fine.  It has to be fine, really, because what’s the alternative?  Harry’s kind aren’t exactly built for a long term commitment to anyone that’s less than immortal.  The kindest thing for him to do would be to let Y/N go now, without having to use compulsion at all.  It would be so simple, he thinks.  One small text, a few words along the lines of “it’s not working out, and we probably shouldn’t see each other again, I’m sorry. H.” would probably suffice.  And surely she’d be a little upset, but she’s mortal, and a mortal’s feelings never stay the same for long.  It would take her a few weeks, or maybe a month at most to get over the creature she’d begun a casual sexual relationship with.  Within a year, Harry and their short-lived friendship would be nothing but a small blip in her memory, and she’d be moved on to someone else.
Harry can see her future so clearly that he almost believes it’s shining through his laptop screen like an old film.  Y/N, going back out for the first time after Harry breaks things off.  Y/N, bumping into a handsome stranger with a bright smile and dull eyes.  Y/N, slumped over her kitchen table and fighting a hangover as the stranger hands her a cup of coffee.  Y/N and the stranger going for dinner.  Walking hand in hand.  Kissing goodnight at the door.  
Harry’s mind spins through scenarios faster and faster, racing through every possible future for Y/N before he can even take another breath.  Although some scenarios have different paths, different breakups, different faces, they always end at the very same place: Y/N in a white dress, walking down a flower strewn aisle, and taking the warm hand of someone who is not Harry.
If Harry needed to breathe, the wind would’ve been knocked out of him the moment he pictured those warm hands with blood pulsing beneath the skin lifting Y/N’s veil, cupping her flushed cheek, and sealing their lips to hers.  It’s a perfectly normal image.  A human pledging themselves to another human.  It’s natural, by human standards, as they seem to value monogamy over everything else.  The path Harry is seeing is the path Y/N was always meant to take.  So why does it make his icy blood curdle?
Mitch, who seems to be completely unaware of the wild road map his friend’s mind has just drawn, speaks out his concerns in a quiet but careful voice. “Are you sure you’re not getting too attached?” He asks, gauging Harry’s reaction to his question as if it’s a catastrophic statement. “You’ve been spending more and more time with her, you blew off the Vegas trip for the first time…” The older vampire gives a soft shrug of his shoulders. “If it were just for sex and blood, that would be one thing, but it’s almost like you’re getting…addicted to her.” 
Although the statement first brings a laugh to Harry's strawberry lips, the initial chuckle quickly fades away as the gravity of Mitch’s statement hits its recipient.  Certainly, he feels an indescribable draw to Y/N, but he knows, deep down, that any addiction he has to her is more so to her blood than anything else.  After all, what else could he possibly indulge?  The last time Harry let himself be addicted to a person, he ended up with a broken neck and newfound bloodlust.  He’s learned since then.  He’s not so naïve, or so foolish, as to let his emotions wander like that again. He knows better.
“There’s no addiction—I just like her blood more than others, that’s all.” Harry assures his friend, tapping his thumb against the band of his mother’s opal ring. “I know I’ve been a bit of a flake lately, but it’s just while I have her around.  I’ll get tired of her eventually; I always do.” He deliberately flashes his crimson eyes at his friend with a knowing smirk. “And then all it’ll take is a few choice words to take care of whatever lingering marks—metaphorical or otherwise— I’ve left on her, and it’ll all be done, and in the past. You know me, mate. Sometimes I like playing with my food.”
That last sentence makes his mouth go sour, almost as if his body is punishing him for uttering something so indifferently ruthless. Especially because deep down, there’s the smallest seed of doubt in his speech— the tiniest hint of uncertainty, telling him that the detachment he is playing up is not true. 
Harry forces it to be true. It has to be. Both for his sake, and Y/N’s. 
Mitch spends a long few minutes gazing into the blood red irises marching his stare, determined to find a crack in their façade. However, Harry’s good at hiding his feelings, given that he’s had decades of practice on how to keep a thick curtain draped over his innermost thoughts. He won’t let anyone see his weaknesses anymore, no matter how microscopic they might be. 
When the older monster’s search turns up empty, he repents with a long sigh, waving his hands free of the whole affair. “Whatever, Harry.  You seem to know what you’re doing.  Just be careful, alright?”
“I do know what I’m doing, thank you.” Harry elects to ignore the last statement Mitch tacked on, and instead flips his laptop around to show his friend his findings with a triumphant—albeit, forced—grin. “I’m doing brunch.  Google says girls Y/N’s age like brunch, and that the Persimmon Pantry in downtown L.A. has authentic crepes that are to die for.”
“Too bad you’re already dead.” The older vampire deadpans, pushing the laptop closed and raising himself from the couch into a standing position, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “If you’re going to be dating a mortal, do we get to meet her?  Because I think Niall may need a bit of a heads up after the accidental run in that happened last time—”
“Do you usually meet my meals?” Harry counters easily as he sets his laptop aside, standing to escort Mitch to the door. “Don’t be sentimental, Mitch.  I’m certainly not.”
When Mitch’s eyes meet his own once again, there’s a degree of clarity running through them that nearly stops Harry in his tracks. “Aren’t you?” Mitch asks, voice neutral by careful control. 
Harry sucks in a quick breath out of habit, pasting a bright expression over his face in lieu of actually revealing his swirling insides. “Not since I learned my lesson.” He says easily, tapping two fingers over his dormant carotid artery with a sly smile. 
The casual act does the trick, and Mitch’s eyes roll in a familiar jesting fashion as he steps towards the door. “Right.  You’ve got it under control, then.”
“All under control.” The words slip off Harry’s dry tongue like honey, his sweet cadence filling the space between them. “Not to worry.”
///
Y/N thinks this may be the most out of control she’s ever felt her entire life.
A few weeks ago, she would’ve said that taking Harry home from the club was the most out of control she’s ever been.  And three months ago, dropping her whole life and moving to L.A. might have been the answer to that question.  And another three months from now, Y/N might get herself into the middle of a new entirely stupid act— which is completely probable, given her track record— and that’ll become the new marker for the most out of control thing she’s done.  But right now, at this moment, the most out of control thing she’s done is say yes to Harry asking her out to brunch.
When compared to everything else she’s done with Harry—and let Harry do to her—brunch may seem entirely harmless, but it’s the connotation behind it that scares her.  Harry is taking her on a date.  A real date.  A date to a brunch restaurant, at 11 A.M. on a Sunday, when it’ll be completely bright outside, and people will see them together.  A date with both of them in presentable situations, rather than being coated in sweat and completely dressed.  A date where Harry refrains from whispering the filthiest fucking shit Y/N has ever heard into her ear, although she wouldn’t put it past him trying to do that over a plate of avocado toast.
Harry is taking her on a date.  And last time Y/N checked, she wasn’t exactly good at those.
Her ex hadn’t really been the romantic type, to say the least.  Their dates typically revolved around their high school’s dance and athletic schedules.  Bradley took her to homecoming and to prom, and football games on Friday nights, where all her friends would meet them at a diner after their school— more often than not— lost.  He would take her on long drives where they got nowhere fast, with the two of them sitting in silence, and his music playing through the speakers.  She went over to his house once a week for dinner.  He’d take her to a movie every second Saturday.  And while it was all fine, none of it was very romantic. ‘Robotic’ is a more appropriate term.
And even with the fear of actual romance aside, Y/N has no idea what to discuss on a first date with someone.  She had already known a lot about her ex when they began going out, so there wasn’t a period of “getting to know you” that needed to happen.  The few first dates she’d had after him hadn’t been stellar, or even noteworthy.  If anything, they had been guides for what not to do on a first date.  And the funniest thing is that, while she’s fairly sure her last first date had been the catalyst for Harry asking her out, the actual date itself had been awful.  But if she’s right, and that was the factor that set Harry off, then maybe she should be grateful for all those awful dates from her past, because Harry, in contrast to all those horrible dates, is different in every conceivable way.
Harry is just different.  When she speaks, he listens.  When he looks at her, he really looks at her, and he sees her in a way she’s not sure she’s ever been seen before.  And, honestly, he has seen her in ways she’s never been seen before, and that’s exactly what Y/N is worried about.  How do you sip a mimosa with someone at the Persimmon Pantry after they’ve throat fucked you on your couch, or bent you over the kitchen counter, or handcuffed you to their bed?  How do you ask someone about their favourite movie when they’ve coaxed multiple orgasms from you over the phone as Sinister played from the TV screen?  How do you listen as someone tells you about their childhood dog when the last dog you were concerned about was the position they bent you into as they spread your—
Y/N clears her throat and shakes her head of the thought, reevaluating her heated complexion in the mirror that hangs on the back of her bedroom door. “Stop it.” She mutters to herself, attempting to give her reflection a stern look. “You’re not going to be able to make it through this if you’ve thrown the towel in before Harry’s even picked you up.”
And that’s another thing, Y/N thinks, as she opens her bedroom closet and begins searching through it for something acceptable to wear.  Harry insisted on picking her up, even though the restaurant he chose was a fifteen minute walk from her apartment.  She’d brought this up to him when he asked her to brunch over the phone (which is a whole other thing in and of itself— he only called her when he had his hand wrapped around his cock and needed her voice to finish himself off; wouldn’t a text have been sufficient?), but Harry had blown off her concern without a second thought.
“Part of taking you on a date is picking you up, Y/N.”
“Yeah, but the Persimmon Pantry is between our apartments.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to meet there?  Then you wouldn’t waste your time driving past it to get me.”
“I don’t consider anything involving you to be a waste of time.” Harry had answered immediately, his voice stern, but still allowing a vein of tenderness to run underneath it. “Is that your only concern, then?  Me picking you up?”
No, Y/N had thought.  It’s not my only concern, but how the fuck do I explain everything else?
“Yeah.” Y/N had answered tightly, her voice weak. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, it’s not a concern of mine, so don’t worry.  I’ll pick you up at 10:45 Sunday morning.” And then there had been a pause, full of baited breath and nerves, before Harry’s thick accent rang through her phone again. “I can’t wait to see you.”
Those parting words had sat in her stomach since, warm and cozy and inviting, keeping a soft, constant glow filtering in her veins until the end of the week came. 
Y/N glances at the blinking clock beside her bed.  It’s 10:17 now, a couple days after that conversation, which means she has less than half an hour to pick something to wear, style her hair that’s currently dripping wet from her shower, and throw on enough makeup to cover up the bags under her eyes that have been developing over the last few nights.  After becoming so used to sleeping with Harry next to her every weekend, Y/N is now finding that not having him in her bed, smoothing her hair and rubbing her cheek as she cuddles into his cool chest is prohibiting her from getting a good night’s sleep.
Another concern, certainly, but not one she can deal with at this moment.  The best she can do is smear on some concealer and hope for the best, and with that in mind, Y/N turns her full attention to her evaluation of her closet.
“Brunch,” She murmurs to herself, slowly pushing her clothing apart to examine each article. “We’re going to brunch.  What do you wear to brunch?”
Brunch, she decides after a moment of consideration, is casual, but not sloppy casual, so jeans and a t-shirt are off the table.  It’s Sunday casual, like the outfits her mother would pick out for her to wear to Sunday afternoon teas with the other church women once she turned 15 and had to “start acting like a lady.”  Sunday casual, Y/N thinks, but maybe not those outfits.  The raised necklines and starched collars had made her neck itch the entire time, and she had picked at the hemlines of her dresses under tables until the seams began to unravel.  Sunday casual, but more of her actual style.  Sunday casual, but sluttier, maybe?  Could one describe Sunday casual as slutty?
Y/N groans as she takes a step back from her closet, clutching her towel to her chest with a tense hand.  Maybe she’s going about this the wrong way.  Maybe she should try to match Harry…? 
A sharp snort falls from Y/N’s mouth.  Yeah, like she could ever match Harry.  Harry, who is so obsessed with labels that even his handcuffs are embossed with the Gucci logo.  Harry, who is so attractive that it’s almost otherworldly.  Harry, who can make her tiny apartment look like a New York Fashion Week runway by simply walking down the corridor of her entrance.  Matching Harry is almost impossible.  She could show up in a full length gown, and Harry would still outshine her in a graphic t-shirt and flared jeans.
“Hey.” Y/N chastises herself lightly, catching her judgemental eye in her mirror once again. “Stop it.  Don’t be mean to yourself, just...just pick something to wear.  It shouldn’t be this hard.”
After returning to her closet search and trying on a few different combinations, Y/N finally settles on an outfit consisting of a pale yellow sundress with a sweetheart neckline and tea length skirt, but dresses it down with a denim jacket and a pair of cotton candy coloured vans.  It’s bright and fun, but still casual enough that it looks like she just threw it on.  
“Oh, this old thing?”  Y/N raises her eyebrows in mock surprise as she moves to her bathroom to begin to tackle her hair.  She keeps practicing the imaginary conversation in the mirror with herself, and while she knows she sounds insane, it oddly keeps her nerves in check. “Oh, I just pulled it out of my closet a few minutes before you got here.  Haven’t worn it in years.  Do you like it?” The mortal pauses as she reaches for her makeup, deciding to keep herself to a more natural look for the day. “Thank you, Harry, that’s so sweet.  You look nice, as well.”
She lightly fills her brows before sweeping some neutral eyeshadow over her lids, pausing her muttering to herself to concentrate on drawing her eyeliner as neatly as she likes.  Once she’s satisfied with that, she moves to mascara, adding a thin coat to her lashes and blotting off the makeup she smudges underneath her eye by mistake.  When that’s finished, the young woman takes a step back from the mirror, appraising her appearance.
It’s not awful, honestly.  She could do worse.  In fact, if it weren’t for the ball of anxiety currently twisting its way through Y/N’s stomach, she might even praise herself for the cute and casual look she’s managed to pull off.
“You look good.” She murmurs to her reflection as she reaches for her small silver hoops, slipping them through her lobes with a quick and practiced motion. “Good job.” With her eyes locked on her reflection, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “Today is going to be fine.  Better than fine, actually.  And it would probably go better if you stopped talking to yourself, so maybe let’s get that in check before Harry gets here—?”
As if on cue, a now familiar knock on her front door causes the mortal’s mouth to snap shut, clamping off the rest of her third person monologue.  When she makes a quick pause to straighten her jacket and fetch her over-the-shoulder woven bag, Y/N impulsively decides to grab her favourite perfume bottle, giving her body a quick spritz before making her way to the door and opening it with breathless anticipation.
Harry, of course, looks fucking incredible.  Although his casual outfit consists of a black short sleeved button up shirt tucked into white slacks, Harry manages to work the whole number like a model.  His usual cross necklace, unique rings, and stately single cross earring adorn his body, drawing Y/N’s eyes to the glint of the metals as a pair of black sunglasses sit atop the man’s defined nose.  He meets Y/N’s eyes behind them, a grin beginning to paint itself over his cherry lips as his jeweled hand pushes the sunglasses from his face and into his chestnut locks, revealing his bright jade gaze full of genuine kindness. 
“Well, look at you. Proper model now, aren’t you, Miss Urban Outfitters?” Harry’s voice takes on a casual tone, but the flirty phrase sends a shiver of pleasure down Y/N’s spine. “You look so fucking good in yellow, love.  Why have I never seen you in yellow before?”
The shiver of pleasure reverberates throughout Y/N’s entire body. “Maybe because I’m usually naked when I’m around you?” She retorts quickly, reaching to the little hook next to her door to grab her keys. 
“Hm.  That’s true.” The pleased cadence in Harry’s voice catches Y/N’s ear over the click of the door lock. “Guess you go for the Victoria’s Secret look more often, hm? Though I’m not complaining. You look just as good in lace.” 
“Thanks. But not today, I guess.” Y/N says quietly as she pushes down the heat boiling her face, unable to bite her tongue before the words slip out. “We’re on a real date today.”
“Right you are, Watson.” Harry grins cheekily as he motions for the girl to walk past him, following closely with a guiding hand on the small of her back. “We’re on a real date.  It’s probably a little overdue, but you know what they say...better late than never, right?”
The moment she takes a step past him, it hits Harry.  Although her delectable signature scent of lavender and honey is still there, it’s faintly hidden behind the nearly overpowering scent of gardenia and freesia he smelled last time he was in her hallway, when that oafish buffoon had the audacity to try and seduce her.  And despite the fact that Harry prefers Y/N’s natural fragrance to any other scent on the planet, knowing that she took the time to spritz herself with perfume before greeting him brings a dimpled smile to his face.  Harry considers making a comment about it, but bites it back at the last moment.  The last thing he needs is to have to explain why he pays such particular attention to Y/N’s scent.
When the pair exit the apartment building, Harry takes the lead in front of Y/N, unlocking his flashy car with a click of the remote and opening the passenger door with ease.  He extends a hand, grasping the mortal girl’s hand in his own with care as he helps her into the car.  The click of the car door shutting comes a moment later than expected as Harry pauses to fix the hem of Y/N’s dress, making sure it’s free of the doorway before closing the door without clamping the light fabric.
Harry doesn’t even think twice before readjusting Y/N’s skirt, with the move coming as naturally to him as breathing once did, and merely notes the stuttering of Y/N’s heartbeat with a half hidden smug smile.  It’s not until he’s in the driver’s seat and stopped at a red light that he realizes what that stuttering rhythm is indicating.
Y/N is tense.  Even without his supernatural abilities that allow him to hear her heart, register her strained breathing, and feel the energy radiating from her body, Harry would be able to tell that some part of her feels...uncomfortable.  Nervous, even.  But for what?  What about Harry—aside from the obvious that the human is unaware of—could make her nervous?  After the countless hours in bed together, the lazy Saturday afternoons, the kitchen singalongs, Harry would think that Y/N would be as comfortable with him as he is with her.  After all she’d shown him when they have sex—
Huh.  Maybe that’s it, Harry thinks, giving the mortal a quick look from the corner of his eye.  The light ahead of them turns green, and Harry continues to ponder his realization as he presses on the gas.  If sex has become the norm for them, then maybe a date is outside of her comfort zone.  Or maybe, now that her brain isn’t fogged by the endorphins that roll through her veins whenever Harry coaxes an orgasm from her trembling body, Y/N is realizing how unnatural it feels to be around Harry.  
As much as Harry likes to pretend otherwise, humans aren’t dumb.  If they get too close to someone of Harry’s kind, some sharp-sighted mortals begin to sense that there’s something different about them.  Aside from the easy targets and quick decisions, part of the reason that picking up meals in clubs works so well for Harry and his friends is that a mortal’s senses are dulled in the flashing lights and inebriated atmosphere of a club.  If Y/N is beginning to sense that there’s something different about Harry, or if she’s beginning to feel uneasy about being around him, then she must be wondering why.  In Harry’s experience, mortals will relate their uncomfortable feelings about the supernatural into something they have more experience with to make sense of it all, and if that’s what Y/N is doing, then she’s probably attributing her newfound discomfort towards Harry trying to take advantage of her.  If he could read her mind, he might see a horrific scene playing out like an old movie: Harry buying her a meal, soaking her rational thinking in mimosas and other drinks spiked with God knows what, and then helping her back to his car, where he drives her back to his apartment, practically carrying her inebriated body through the door towards his bedroom…
The car takes a sharp right turn into the restaurant parking lot, and Harry guides it to a spot with his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.  The idea of Y/N thinking him capable of that, capable of hurting her like that...it takes Harry a moment to extract his clenched hands from the wheel.  If that was really what Y/N was thinking, then he could fix it.  All it would take to set her at ease would be a quick request, a repeated statement, and the girl’s breathing would even out, and everything could continue like he had planned.
“Y/N?” He begins, keeping his voice as smooth as silk as he sets the car into park and turns it off. “Look at me, please.”
And then she does.  And Harry forgets his plan within a moment.
There’s nervousness apparent in her eyes, yes, but no fear.  Although her lips are chewed red, they don’t tremble when she answers him with a quiet “yes?” Despite their close proximity, she keeps leaning closer to him, and whether she’s aware of the action or not, the constant inch of her hand closer to Harry’s softens the immortal more than he thought possible.  He can’t compel her to let down her guard when she already trusts him.
“I know that this is different for us.  Doing something like this.” Harry begins, keeping his eyes as sincere as possible without compelling the young woman in front of him, who is keeping her eyes on his emerald irises with steadfast attention. “But I want this to be a proper date, like...like what I should’ve probably taken you on a month ago.”
Warmth rises to Y/N’s cheeks at the confession. “So do I.  I like being around you, Harry.  A lot.  I’m just a little...nervous, I guess.”
Harry bites back a smile at how she sounds like she’s confessing something, as if her body language hasn’t been telling him that from the moment she got into his car. “I know.  So I think it would be best, just to prove that this is a real date, if we don’t have sex after we finish brunch.”
A choked sound falls from Y/N’s mouth, and Harry delights in watching her scramble for words before she manages to form a half indignant reply. “I didn’t say I was going to sleep with you!”
“You don’t have to say it, pet, because we both know you can’t keep your hands off me.  Exhibit A,” Harry nods at her hand, which is mere millimeters away from his thigh. “Being how you kept trying to grab onto me through the entire drive.”
Another gasp of indignation fills the car, and the emphasized outrage sets Harry at ease.  He’d rather Y/N be equal parts annoyed and—if the soft look hidden behind her eyes is any clue—endeared than have her equal parts nervous and anxious.  He’d take any anger directed at his expense if it meant she was at ease. 
“I wasn’t trying to grab you.” The mortal mutters under her breath, her eyes falling from his as the increase of her heart pricks Harry’s ears. “That’s just where my hand fell naturally.”
“Right.” Harry answers in a disbelieving voice, his smirk growing as Y/N rolls her eyes in response. “Well, either way…” He extends a jeweled hand and grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying how her breath stutters as he turns her head to look at him. “What do you say?  No sex after our date?  Think we can behave ourselves?”
“I can.” Y/N answers, irritation laced through her voice to hide the desire settling between her words. “You, on the other hand...I doubt you’ll be able to keep it in your pants.”
A wry smile works it’s way over Harry’s lips, and the vampire wets them with his tongue as he uses his gentle grip on Y/N’s jaw to tilt her head forward. “I have wonderful self-control, darling.” He breathes the words, letting the scent of mint roll over Y/N’s face, and delights in the way it intoxicates her with every syllable.  Harry ghosts his lips over the curve of her jaw, smudging his kisses down her neck until he can feel her pulse thumping unevenly beneath his lips.  His mouth opens just slightly as he leaves a lingering kiss on the area, his tongue gliding carefully over her sweet-scented skin. 
Despite every instinct in his body telling him to sink his teeth into the beating pulse he feels and quench the thirst that burns in the back of his throat like a roaring fire, Harry manages to pull away. “See?” He murmurs softly, his cool breath still clouding Y/N’s every inhale. “Self control.”
While Harry is a master at withholding his desires, the effect his actions have on Y/N is apparent in her reply. “Good.” The mortal swallows thickly, her pulse fluttering again as Harry releases her chin and drags his fingers down her neck. “That’s good to know.  So no sex, then.”
“Right.” Harry grins triumphantly as Y/N attempts to collect herself.  The smug expression on Harry’s face lets her know that he’s completely aware of the impact he has on her, and it drives her insane to no end.  Although her conscience is urging her to play his game, and do her best to fluster him as he flusters her, the more rational part of her stops that thought in its tracks.  This is what she wanted, wasn’t it?  To open herself up again, to open herself up to Harry in a way she hasn’t before?  To prove that she can let someone know her without burrowing themselves between her thighs?
The latch of her car door brings her from her thoughts, and her head jerks to the right to see Harry with one hand on the door handle as he extends the other to her to help her from the car.  Y/N, still fumbling with her seatbelt, takes a moment to grasp his hand in return, too swept up in the fact that Harry remembers to open her door to ponder how he always reaches her side of the car so quickly. 
However, there are some new developments that don’t slip from her attention, like how Harry keeps her hand grasped firmly in his icy grip even after she’s out of the car, pausing only to click the lock on his keyring before walking with her towards the door.  Or how, despite his long legs, he never falls out of step with Y/N, making sure to keep his strides measured and even so as not to yank on her hand.  Or how, even though her hand is already half extended out of habit, Harry reaches the door of the restaurant first, opening it smoothly and stepping back, gently laying his hand on the small of Y/N’s back to guide her inside the restaurant.
“Uh, thanks.” The young woman murmurs to him, a tone of perplexity running beneath her words.  She’s not quite sure why all of this surprises her; hadn’t Harry already proved that, despite his harsh and suggestive exterior, there’s an undercurrent of manners instilled into him?  
Maybe, she thinks as she watches Harry step forward to the restaurant host, the surprise and confusion is due to the lack of manners she received from her ex.  Despite the “small town charm,” as her mother had called it, Bradley had lacked the ability to successfully perform any gallantry, and any attempts he made to do so had only annoyed Y/N.  Whenever he tried to do something that may fall into that category, like insisting on driving everywhere they went, or choosing where they’d go for dinner, Y/N never felt that the actions came from a place of protection or chivalry; on the contrary, Y/N felt like each action was taken on the basis that she herself was incapable of doing the same things Bradley did.  On the one occasion she’d brought it up to him, he had scoffed, and argued that he was just trying to be a nice guy, and why would she have a problem with him trying to help her, and if she was going to complain, then he wouldn’t—
An icy touch to the dip of her back jerks Y/N from her thoughts, both metaphorically and literally as her body spasms away from the touch.  Upon hearing the alarmed gasp that falls from her lips, Harry turns his head to the side, a look of concern painted over his face.
“Everything alright, darling?” He asks in a quiet voice, his hand retracting from her back with uncertainty. 
“Yeah, sorry, just—caught up in thought, I guess.” Y/N covers quickly, giving him an apologetic smile. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
If the way the mortal shivers is any suggestion, Harry can guess what exactly about his touch took her by surprise. “I’m sorry.” He says sincerely, his fingers hovering a few millimeters above the fabric of her dress. “The, uh, the table I reserved is just on the patio around the corner.” Although he lays his hand on Y/N once again to guide her, Harry is careful to place his palm further up her spine, where the sensitive skin of her back is covered by her jean jacket in addition to the thin yellow sundress.  As much as he usually adores making her shiver, there’s something different about the action when he knows it’s because of his inhumanly cold touch, instead of his inhuman ability to pleasure her. 
The pair move in a line, following the hostess in a beeline through the busy restaurant and out onto the sunlit patio, where there are fewer occupied tables.  Stopping in front of a table partly shaded under an umbrella that’s away from the other diners, the hostess turns to the two of them, her eyes flickering over Harry once again.
“Is this table to your liking, Mr. Styles?” She asks, her voice sweet as sugar.  The stickiness of it grates against Y/N’s skin, but Harry gives no indication of finding it irritating.  In fact, he seems to give hardly any notice to the hostess at all, only half glancing at her before nodding his head. 
“Yes, it is, thank you.” He steps out to the side, grasping the back of the chair facing away from the sun and pulling it out.  It takes Y/N a moment and a half step already taken towards the opposite chair for her to realize that he’s pulling it out for her.
“Oh—” Face flushing with realization, Y/N steps back around Harry, settling down into the offered seat as he carefully pushes it in. “Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Harry replies, pausing to be sure she’s comfortable before taking his own seat across from her.  The hostess, who had been watching his actions with a keen eye, gives another smile to the vampire.
“Alright, Paige will be your server today, but before I leave,” The hostess spares a short glimpse at Y/N before turning her full attention back to Harry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
The creature is aware of the effect he has on mortals, and has been since he was first turned.  While he normally plays that to his advantage (and while that was, to be frank, part of the reason he was able to take Y/N home from the club the night he met her), the attention is beginning to grind against his nerves.  It’s easy enough for him to ignore a human, especially one he has no interest in whatsoever, but he can see the way Y/N notices the hostess’ preference for addressing Harry.  More specifically, Harry can see the way it bothers her, and it would be amusing if his jealousy over Y/N going on a date with someone else hadn’t been the catalyst to their date today.
“No, that’s alright.” Harry finally responds to the waitress, glancing at her just enough so as not to be rude. “Thank you.”
The hostess smiles at him again before nodding to Y/N and turning on her heel, marching back towards the kitchen, and it takes just a soft snort falling from Y/N’s lips to pull Harry’s attention completely back to her.
“What?” He quirks an eyebrow up at the noise, reaching for the menu in front of him and flipping it open slowly. “Something funny?”
Y/N gives a small shake of her head as she mimics Harry’s action, casting her eyes downwards towards the now revealed menu. “No, not at all.”
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” The vampire reaches across the table to touch his date’s hand, flipping her arm carefully so he can lay two ringed fingers against the thin skin of her wrist, the fragile hummingbird flutter of her heart thumping beneath it. “And I’m too excellent at reading people to let it go.”
“Too stubborn, you mean?” Y/N corrects him as she raises her own brow, but much to Harry’s delight, she doesn’t pull back from his icy touch as she did earlier. 
Harry shrugs lightly, an unconcerned air tinting his attitude. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.  Either way, I’d like to know why you’re laughing at me.”
The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek, the action of her weighing her next words clearly written all over her face. “You seriously can’t tell me you don’t notice it.”
Cocking his head to the side, Harry gently yet consistently continues to stroke two fingers over Y/N’s velvety skin, the heat of her veins burning beneath his touch. “Notice what?”
Although she opens her mouth, Y/N’s reply is cut off by the clicking of high heels approaching their secluded corner, and it’s only a moment before a waitress (whom she assumes is Paige) is standing in front of their table.  Like her coworker before her, Paige gives a brief hello to Y/N before turning all of her attention to Harry, smiling brightly at him as she gives her opening spiel.
“Hi!  My name is Paige, and I’ll be your server today.  Can I get some drinks started for you?” She asks, her hands clasped tightly in front of her (Y/N always hates when servers don’t write down orders; she knows it looks impressive, but the attention it takes to remember exact specifications gives her secondhand anxiety) as she addresses Harry.  
The order is right at the tip of Harry’s tongue. “We’ll have two mimosas, please.  And two ice waters, as well.” He replies, smiling briefly at her as his fingers continue to glide over Y/N’s wrist.  The girl catches the way Paige’s eyes flicker to the movement, her (just barely) professional smile shifting for a fraction of a second before fixing itself, and while Y/N knows that it’s irrational, a small part of her can’t help but be pleased.
“Sounds good.  I’ll be right back with those.” She chimes giddily, her heels clicking against the ground once more as she walks away.
The moment she’s left, Harry has his full attention turned back to Y/N. “You didn’t answer my question.” He murmurs, his emerald eyes alight with curiosity. “Notice what?”
An exasperated sigh sounds from Y/N as she makes a face. “The way they stare at you.” She answers, jerking her head over her shoulder towards the restaurant door. “The hostess, the server—they were both practically undressing you with their eyes.  Are you telling me you didn’t notice that?”
Harry’s curious expression drops as he begins to shift in his seat, the stroking of his fingers over her wrist pausing for just one moment.  Ah, Y/N thinks.  Here it is.  A confession that, yes, Harry did notice it, and Harry (and his ego) loved the attention, and he—
“I noticed it, yeah.” He begins, a reluctant look painting itself onto his statuesque features as a finger on his free hand rubs over his lion head ring.
A glum feeling of satisfaction settles into Y/N’s stomach, and she pulls her hand back a few inches, completely removing it from Harry’s grasp. “I thought so—”
“But I didn’t see the point in mentioning it.” Harry continues, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m here with you.  Why would a spare look from a hostess or a server be anything but inconsequential to me?”
Huh.
“I…” For once, Y/N is stunned into silence. “Well, I just thought—”
“Y/N.” Her name sounds like a melody when it falls from Harry’s mouth, and the sincerity layered in his voice makes her snap her eyes to his. “Do you truly think I would flirt with a waitress on a date I asked you on?  Does that sound like me?”
“Well, honestly…” Harry’s stare bores into hers, prickling Y/N’s skin with the new and nearly uncomfortable sensation of being seen. “I don’t want to think so, but considering how we met…”
“Ah.” Harry’s lips turn down into a small grimace, but quickly right themselves as he once again grasps her hand in his two large palms. “I won’t pretend that I’m not a bit of a—”
“Whore?”
Harry’s lip twitches in amusement again at the blatant tone of the girl’s voice. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about you slut-shaming me?”
The flush that overtakes Y/N’s face indicates that she remembers. “Yes, we did.  But I seem to recall you agreeing.  After you teased me for it, of course.”
“Of course.  We both know how much you love teasing.” Harry digs his nails ever so slightly into her wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull a small gasp from her mouth as his grip begins to mimic the handcuffs that she had begged him to use on her. “But all that aside...I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what they think of me.  I’m here with you.  Despite most of my flaws, my mother raised me right.  I wouldn’t do that to you.”
The thunderous thumping of Y/N’s heart rings through Harry’s ears, a constant reminder of why he’s here.  Beneath her soft skin, beneath every telltale mark and scar, beneath her glittering eyes and silky lips, there’s the thing that keeps Harry alive.  Rushing through this girl’s arteries is the sustenance that Harry needs to survive, the sweetest liquid he’s ever consumed, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it at his beck and call.  If being the gentleman of Y/N’s dreams is what will keep her available for him, then that’s what he’ll do.  The pounding of her heart is the beat that keeps him in time with the tune of his life.  It’s nothing more and nothing less. 
Still, Harry chooses his next words attentively, to bring back a joking manner to the conversation. “Someone must have done a number on you, huh?  Was everything not so charming in Smalltown, USA?  Did your parents split when you were a kid?”
And although Harry asks the questions with a smirk on his face, laughter in his voice, and mirth in his eyes, he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitches in her chest, how her hand tenses beneath his, and how her eyes drop for a fraction of a second.  He’s touched a nerve, one that is obviously frayed and hurting, and the regret that instantly washes over him is tinged with the confusion of how he’s capable of feeling such an emotion so intensely. 
“Um—” While Y/N knew that she had to tell Harry about her disastrous dating history sooner or later, she had really hoped it would be later rather than sooner.  Is a discussion about one’s scumbag ex appropriate first date talk?  Can she bring it up now, or should she wait until they’ve finished their appetizers? 
“Alright, so I have two mimosas and two waters for you…” Paige’s return distracts Y/N from her dilemma for just a moment as the server sets down the four glasses in front of the respective recipients.  With her attention turned back to Harry, she takes a step back from the table. “Are you ready to order?”
Y/N’s eyes snap to the open menu in front of her, which had become the least of her concerns over the last few minutes. “Oh, I haven’t—”
“We’ll get two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, please.” Harry closes his menu before reaching for Y/N’s and repeating the motion, handing them back to Paige with a charming yet neutral smile. “And a side of hashbrowns, please, to share.”
Brow furrowing as the server scurries away without giving her a second glance, Y/N gapes at Harry, her voice wrought with confusion. “Why did you order for me?”
Harry raises his mimosa to his lips and takes a long sip, setting the condensation-covered glass back down on the table before replying. “You didn’t know what you wanted, and the crepes are delicious.  Did you want something else?” With a lick of his red lips, he glances over his shoulder. “I can call her back if—”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Y/N wraps her hand around the alcoholic drink, swirling her finger over the cold glass. “I can order for myself.  I’m a grown woman.  Do you think I’m not capable or something?”
Harry cocks his head to the side, appraising how the mortal’s expression is closing off with every passing moment.  This bothers her, he realizes.  The idea of him not thinking she’s capable of something bothers her, enough that she’s clenching her glass, and her normally clear eyes are swirling with anger more and more with every passing moment.
“I know you’re capable, Y/N.  I just thought that…” Shifting in his seat, Harry clears his throat as he gathers his words in his mind.  Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking the questions? “It’s supposed to be polite.”
“In what century?” She replies, her mouth falling agape in surprise as her eyes widen. “Men used to order for women because women weren’t allowed to, right?  Because men made the decisions?  Holding open a door is one thing, but choosing for me—”
“Okay, maybe choosing for you was impolite.  I thought you were unsure on what to order, but I should’ve asked first.  I’m sorry.” Harry half mumbles the apology as an uncomfortable feeling of shame begins to buzz in his stomach. “But the ordering thing, that— men did that as a sign of respect, so women wouldn’t have to talk to someone they didn’t know.  I really didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.  My mum just taught me that it was polite, so I...it’s a habit.  I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again.”
He watches as Y/N chews her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating the authenticness of his apology.  Everything he had said was true, of course.  His mother did teach him that it was polite to order something for a date so she wouldn’t have to speak to someone she doesn’t know.  Of course, it was also true that the practice had died out a century ago, and most women now preferred to speak for themselves.  Harry can’t begrudge Y/N if she dislikes what he did; she’s proved time and time again that she can be rather independent.  However, Harry’s surprised at the disappointment he feels about her reaction.  If this is going to be a proper date, he’d like to hold it up to his standards of proper.
“Alright.” The mortal says after a moment, releasing her lip from her teeth and finally raising her mimosa to her mouth. “You’re forgiven.  But I think I’ve earned the right to compensation for your assumptions.”
“Compensation could be arranged, I suppose.” Harry leans forward with a sly grin, his fingers finding the delicate skin of Y/N’s wrist once more. “I feel like I’ve been fairly firm on the no sex thing, but I could pencil you in for some compensation tomorrow evening, if that works for you.”
Y/N swirls the liquid in her glass as she bites back a smirk. “I was thinking of something a little different than an orgasm, actually.”
“What could possibly be better than an orgasm given by me?” Harry questions, his free hand fingering the cross around his neck. “Didn’t you once compare them to a gift from God?”
“I don’t recall ever saying that, actually.” The mortal girl replies in a dry voice, setting her glass down with a decisive thunk. “I don’t want an orgasm—”
“Oh, that’s a bloody lie—”
“I want information.” Tapping her fingers against the table, Y/N stares Harry down with firm eyes. “Like where did you grow up that your mother taught you it was appropriate to speak for a woman?  Or why have you avoided any personal questions I’ve tried to ask over the last month?”
Harry retracts his hand from Y/N’s wrist as she voices her inquisition, settling his fingers on the rim of his mimosa to begin tracing the smooth glass. “To be fair, pet, you haven’t asked many personal questions.  You’ve been too busy bouncing on my cock, haven’t you?”
“Maybe, but I won’t be today, as per our agreement.” Y/N steeps her fingers together as she leans towards him, the comical sight of her posture forcing Harry to repress a snort. “And you brought up personal questions first, Holmes.  So you kind of screwed yourself, didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did.  I’ve gotten so used to you doing the screwing, Watson.  Guess I’m getting sloppy— although you seem to like that.” Harry can’t help but get in one last dig before conceding, taking a long gulp of his beverage before smacking his lips. “I’ll tell you what.” He says, pointing a jeweled finger at his date with his glass still wrapped tightly in his hand. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Pursing her lips, Y/N quirks up an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Let’s play a little question game.” Harry sets down his glass as he elaborates, his signature smirk growing over his cherry lips. “We alternate questions back and forth, asking whatever we’ve wanted to know.  And the other person has to answer it honestly.”
Or as honestly as possible, Harry amends in his head.  For obvious reasons, he’ll have to fabricate the majority of his answers, but that’s nothing new to him.  Over the years, he’s had to create multiple spiels about his childhood, taking tiny pieces of truths and weaving them together with updated lies.  Spitting out a few standard stories about where he grew up and why he left London is small change compared to his burning desire to know more about Y/N’s past.  
The mortal chews on the inside of her cheek again, weighing her options in her head as she holds Harry’s questioning stare.  As much as she hates to discuss her life story, and as much as she’d been hoping to hide it from Harry, she knows that she has to be honest with him if she wants him to be honest with her.  As awkward as it may be, she’ll have to tell the stories sometime.
“Alright.” She relents after a moment, blowing out a harsh breath and lifting her mimosa to her lips. “But I get to ask the first question.  Ladies first, and all that.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harry flashes a cheeky grin at her, his left eye dropping into a quick wink. “Start your inquisition, Watson.”
Harry’s been in this position millions of times, so he knows the types of questions that are about to tumble from Y/N’s pretty lips.  She’ll start off by asking where he grew up, and where he went to school, and how many siblings he has, before moving to things like why he moved to L.A., and how he made friends, and—
“What else did your mother teach you, besides manners?” Y/N asks suddenly, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth to catch a stray drop of liquid on her bottom lip as she lowers her glass. “And what was the most important thing?” 
The nature of the question catches Harry so off guard that he doesn’t remember to quell the throb in his chest where his heart used to beat at the mention of his mother, and the old half healed wound flares with pain.  What had his mother taught him?  Harry ponders the question as Y/N’s curious eyes ponder him.  What hadn’t she taught him? 
“My mother taught me…many things.  Many good things.  She was a wonderful woman.” Harry begins honestly, albeit carefully, speaking in a measured voice as his eyes fall to her opal ring that sits upon his pinky. “She taught me how to read as a child, before I began school.  She taught me...she taught me how to cook a bit.  I’m not nearly as good as she was, but I’m passable.  And yes, she did teach me how to behave around women, how to be respectful.  But the most important thing…”
Y/N watches as Harry’s eyes bore into the ring on his finger, as if he’s staring into a crystal ball of the past to search for an answer.  Perhaps, in a way, he is. 
“The most important thing,” Harry repeats again, his eyes finally snapping away from the entrapment of the ring. “Was how to let someone know you appreciate them.  It’s easy, I think, to go about your day without telling someone you care for them.” Stroking his thumb over the band of the ring, Harry thinks back to the countless ways his mother had wordlessly shown Harry and his sister how much she adored them. “Little touches, or little favours, things like that— those go a long way.  They help someone feel less alone.  They can be the difference between a good day and a bad day.  She used to, um,” A lump suddenly develops in his throat, and Harry struggles to swallow it down as he voices a memory he hasn’t spoken aloud in over a century. “She used to comb her fingers through my hair when I was a little boy, whenever I was upset.  I’d come home from—“ Harry cuts himself off before he mentions his father’s blacksmith forge, where he was an apprentice. “—from school, and she would take one look at me and be able to see I was frustrated.  She always sat in this big chair in front of the fireplace, and she’d pat her lap, and I’d sit in front of her knees and lay my head on her leg, and she’d card her fingers through my hair as I told her every bad thing that happened that day.” Unconsciously, Harry raises his own hand to his chestnut curls, raking his fingers through them.  The motion doesn’t bring nearly as much comfort as it once did. “She always listened.  She never made me feel like my problems were silly.  She just listened.  It made me feel better.  Made me feel…” The vampire’s hand drifts from his hair to his lips, rubbing over them pensively. “Loved.”
The mortal girl’s eyes soften as she listens to the memories of the man in front of her, who begins to look younger and younger with every word that falls from his lips.  Although she’s surprised by the candor of his answer, it pleases her; she thought pulling truths from Harry would be like pulling teeth.  One note of his story, however, catches her attention with an ache. 
“You said...you said she was a wonderful woman.” Y/N murmurs, carefully gauging Harry’s reaction to the question. “Is she...not anymore?”
“I’m sure she would be, but she passed away a…a while ago.” Harry’s eyes shift to the ring again, the dainty band with its opal stone standing out from the rest of his chunky jewelry.  Y/N wonders if that’s because it once belonged to someone else. “She got sick, and couldn’t get better.”
With a careful but tender motion, Y/N slides her hand across the table and settles it on top of Harry’s, cupping his larger hand in her smaller grasp. “I’m so sorry.” The sincerity in her voice snags Harry’s attention, and the vampire looks up to find the mortal staring at him with understanding eyes. “I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.  You must miss her very much.”
It takes Harry a moment to clear the lump from his throat enough that he can choke out a response. “I-I do, yeah.  Every day.” He’s not sure if it’s his icy skin or the burn of Y/N’s touch, but he slowly pulls his hand from beneath her grasp, reaching for his glass of ice water instead.  He gulps down half the liquid, setting the cup down with a decisive thunk before pasting a strained smile onto his face. “But that’s enough of my sob story, don’t you think?  It’s my turn to ask a question.”
A small frown works its way over Y/N’s face as Harry pulls away, and she clasps her now empty hands together around the stem of her mimosa glass. “Fine.  What do you want to know?”
“The answer to my previous inquiry.” Harry’s emerald irises sweep over her figure, his tongue poking between his teeth as his simper becomes more genuine. “Someone must’ve really done a number on you if opening a door for you is a shock.  What’s the story there?”
Although she knew that this would be Harry’s first question, Y/N still bides her time by knocking back the rest of her mimosa in one swift gulp, wrinkling her nose at the lingering taste that catches in the back of her throat. “His name was Bradley.” She begins, tapping a fingernail against the delicate glass. “And he—”
“So sorry to cut you off, darling, but,” Harry raises a finger to pause her speech, his rings glinting in the L.A. sun. “Bradley?  You fucked someone named Bradley?”
“It was a small town!  It’s not like I had many options!” Y/N argues hotly, her eyes rolling harder than they ever have before. “Now are you going to be quiet and listen politely, or are you going to keep interrupting me before I can even begin?”
Harry laughs once, shaking his head with an amused air. “Sorry.  Continue.” Despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, Harry raises a hand to the corner of his mouth, pretending to lock it shut with an imaginary key.  He even takes care to slide the invisible key into his shirt pocket, patting it with satisfaction once the deed is done. 
Y/N takes one more moment to glare at him, but Harry’s newfound silence continues, and so she does, as well. “His name was Bradley.  I met him through a mutual friend in our freshman year of high school.  I’d seen him around before, but we’d never talked, really.  And after he asked me to Homecoming, he just kind of…stuck.” The girl shrugs in a way of explanation. “Like, he started coming around more to my house, taking me out to movies.  And it was nice.  The attention, I mean.  There was no one else I was really interested in at school, and Bradley was cute, and he was friendly, and our families really liked each other.  It made sense.”
As she speaks, a crease works its way between Harry’s perfectly sculpted brows.  Most mortal romances, he’s come to find, are rather dull, but this one seems more boring than others, and he can’t stop himself from raising his jeweled hand in the air as if he were in one of the classes Y/N mentioned, waiting for the teacher to call on him for an answer. 
When Y/N notices the hand, an exasperated sigh falls from her mouth, but she leans across the table and retrieves the imaginary key from Harry’s shirt pocket, her warm fingers leaving pinpricks of fire across his chest.  A small smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips as those warm fingers touch the lifted spot, mimicking an unlocking motion before she sits back in her seat. “Yes?”
Harry rests a bent elbow on the table, propping his chin up on his fist as he leans forward. “I have a question.” He begins innocently, watching as Y/N narrows her eyes at his sudden polite intrigue.
“Yes?” She repeats again, wariness written into her tone as she evaluated the suspicious air of Harry’s behaviour. 
“I was just wondering how big Bradley’s dick is.” Harry’s grin grows to wicked proportions as Y/N’s mouth falls open in shock. “Because, honestly, he doesn’t seem to have that much going for him, and I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why you dated him, and the only answer I can come up with is—“
“That his dick must be huge?”
“That he’s well endowed, yes.” Harry finishes smugly, tapping a finger against his chin. “I’m curious.  Are we talking about a carrot?  A cucumber?  A zucchini?” Lip twitching again, Harry stifles a laugh as Y/N’s face hardens with exasperation. “A stalk of celery?  I suppose the length could be a selling point, but if there’s not enough girth to fill you—”
“His dick wasn’t the reason I dated him.” Y/N replies flatly, a deadpan stare meeting Harry’s mirth filled eyes. “Although, since you’re curious…it was the size of a cucumber, but not an English cucumber.  More of a garden variety.  Not incredibly girthy, but good for a beginner.”
“A beginner?” Intrigue sparks at the pit of Harry’s belly (along with what he thinks is jealousy, but he’ll wait to dissect that at a later date) as the vampire leans forward more. “This bloke was your first?”
“We were together for years, so—” Y/N cuts herself off with a shake of her head, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger nervously. “No, wait, that’s another question!  You don’t get another question if I didn’t!”
“But you haven’t finished answering my first question—”
“I would if you’d stop interrupting!” Silencing Harry with a stern look, Y/N holds up her left hand, pinching two of her fingers together. “Do I need to pretend to lock your mouth again like I would a seven year old, or can you sit and listen like an adult for five minutes?  What happened to that old fashioned chivalry from earlier?”
Harry lets out a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair with proper posture.  He takes a moment to adjust himself, straightening his back, fixing the fall of his shirt, adjusting his cross, planting his feet on the ground of the patio, and finishing off the show by rolling out his shoulders before squaring them. “Alright, I’m sorry.  I’m ready to listen.  Please continue.”
The young woman inhales deeply, testing Harry’s rapt attention as she takes her time sipping her ice water.  When she sets the glass down and finds that Harry has stayed perfectly still, his irises glued to her, she continues. 
“So Bradley and I got together our freshman year, and stayed together for the rest of high school.  It was comfortable.  His mom liked me, and my parents liked him.  He came to church with us—” Y/N notes that Harry’s eyebrow lifts a quarter of an inch, but only for a moment before dropping back down into its neutral state. “—and he and I went out once or twice a week.  He was…nice.  But he didn’t do the stuff that you do, the…etiquette stuff.” She taps an index finger against the table, thinking back to all the movie and diner dates that have blurred together in her mind. “Well, he’d try, I suppose, but not in the way you do.  Whenever he did something that was supposed to be chivalrous or gallant, it felt like he was doing it because he thought I was incapable.  And when I brought it up, he got mad.” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shy shrug as she smiles apologetically at Harry. “That’s why I didn’t understand you ordering for me.  I know you didn’t mean it in the way he did, I can tell that, but it just kind of…reminded me of him.  It left a bad taste in my mouth; he left a bad taste in my mouth, I guess.”
A beat of silence falls between them, and the intense way that Harry is looking at her is prickling the hair on the back of Y/N’s neck. 
“I get that.” The brunette speaks after a moment, voice low and accent thick. “Being haunted by someone.  Even after they’re gone, even after time passes…something can remind you of them, and it can be enough to bring you to your knees.”
Although Harry’s eyes are locked on hers, Y/N has the distinct feeling that he’s seeing someone else in her place.  Before she can ask what he means, however, he’s blinked himself out of the self-imposed trance. 
“So what was the final straw?” Harry clears his throat quietly as his mind comes back to the present. “Between you and Cucumber Dick?”
A tiny giggle escapes Y/N’s mouth despite her far from humorous answer. “Well—”
The telltale clicking of heels interrupts the unspoken thought, and within a moment, Paige is standing next to their table once again, a tray balanced on her hand with precision as she offers another one of her smiles to Harry. “Here you go—two orders of the chorizo and goat cheese crepes, and a side of hash browns.” The server sets the first plate down in front of Harry, but he quickly lifts it again and sets it down carefully in front of Y/N before accepting the second dish.  He repeats the motions with the hash browns, sliding them to the middle of the table and within Y/N’s reach. 
“Thank you.” Harry speaks with a kind tone, but offers no other comment to the girl, who’s allowed her eyes to slide to the dark ink that decorates Harry’s arms. 
“Of course.” Paige stutters, giving no pretense of paying attention to Y/N. “Could I get you anything else?”
Harry glances at Y/N’s empty mimosa glass, raising an eyebrow in question. “Would you like another drink?” He asks her slowly, his voice unsure.  Normally, he’d just order a second one for her without a thought, but now that he knows how she feels about him ordering for her, he’ll have to work on beating back that particular bit of Victorian etiquette. 
“I would, yes.” Y/N replies with a smile as she touches the stem of her empty glass. “Thank you.”
A strained smile flickers over Paige’s lips. “No problem.  I’ll be right back.”
Harry nods in satisfaction as he watches the server retreat. “There.  We have a few more minutes.  Keep talking.”
“Ah ah ah.” Y/N picks up her fork and sticks it into the hash browns, pulling away a crispy bite for herself. “I think I get to ask a question now, especially since you’ve crammed a few different inquiries into your last turn.”
“And here I was, thinking you loved when I crammed things into—”
“Harry.”
A teasing smile breaks across the vampire’s face, more genuine than Harry thought possible. “Fine.” He relents, cutting the corner off his crepes and popping the savory bite into his mouth. “What else would you like to know?”
Where to begin?  Y/N considers his question pensively as she takes a bite of her own crepe, her expression raising in surprise when she finds that she enjoys Harry’s entrée choice.  The smokiness and spice of the chorizo is undercut by the tangy saltiness of the cheese, all wrapped together with a few garnishes in the perfectly cooked crepe.  Savoring the bite as she chews, Y/N begins to run through the list of questions in her head. 
She could ask more about his family, but if the aching sadness that had radiated off of him at the mention of his mother was any hint, any answers Harry could give on that topic may be off tone for a first date.  And while inquiring about what he said before, about being haunted by someone seems promising, it may also be a bit too much.  As much as she dislikes talking about her personal life, she gets the feeling that Harry absolutely abhors it, and while she was surprised about him asking her on a date, she’s been even more surprised to find herself enjoying it.  The last thing she needs is to fuck that all up by interrogating him about an ex. 
With those two possibilities pushed aside, only one burning question is left on the tip of Y/N’s tongue, and she hurriedly swallows her mouthful of crepe before letting it fall. “Alright, I’ve got it.” Cocking her head to the side, Y/N points her fork at the man in an accusatory manner. “Did you ask me out on this date just because you were jealous I was out with Jacob?  Was that the only reason?  Because you saw me with him, and you didn’t like it?”
Harry wraps his ringed hand around his water glass, the metal of his jewelry clinking against the surface as he pulls a face.  Even if he wanted to be honest with Y/N about this, Harry isn’t quite sure what the honest answer would be.
“I’ll admit, I was a little…bothered by it.” Reluctance is threaded through every word that Harry manages to spit out. “Moreso by your taste in men than anything else— Jacob wasn’t exactly up to par.”
“It wasn’t like I chose him myself.” Y/N retorts, pulling a grape from the bunch of side fruit on her plate and popping it into her mouth. “Was that really all that bothered you?  That he wasn’t up to par?”
Tapping his fingers against the wooden table, Harry takes a moment to ponder the question. “No.” He says finally, deciding to continue his honesty streak. “No, that wasn’t all that bothered me.  You’re right, I didn’t like seeing you with him, but it wasn’t because of him.  Not entirely, anyways.  I can’t imagine I would’ve liked seeing you with anyone.”
A light flush works its way over the mortal’s cheeks, and Harry can hear the stuttered thumping of her heart. “Why?” She asks in a half whisper, her teeth worrying her bottom lip unconsciously. “Why is that?”
Harry muses the various answers he could give as Paige brings them refills on their mimosas.  It’s not like he can tell her that he wants to keep her available for snacking whenever he gets a little thirsty.  Well, he could, but then he’d have to wipe her mind, and he’s not particularly inclined to do that at the moment.  And, if he’s being honest with himself…he’s not entirely sure that’s the truth anymore.  Is sheer convenience the reason behind his terrible reaction to Y/N seeing someone else?  Or is that reaction linked to the way he felt when she opened her door to him that morning, and the sight of her all dolled up for him hit him like a truck?
Either way, none of those answers are suitable to confess in the moment, so Harry merely gives a dimpled grin. “That’s another question, darling.  We’re not very good at limiting ourselves, are we?”
“I suppose not, no.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as she takes a sip of her fresh mimosa, her eyes watching Harry over the rim of the glass. “Your turn, then.  What else do you want to know?”
What else would he like to know?  Harry thinks, taking another bite of chorizo as he mulls over the question.  Now that the floodgates have opened, now that he has the opportunity, now that he has the ability to ask, Harry wants to know everything.  He wants to know what makes Y/N tick, what her pet peeves are, and if she prefers mornings or nights.  He wants to know what her favourite school subject was, if she was ever in her school’s plays, or on any of the sports teams.  He wants to know her favourite flavour of ice cream, what TV shows she binge watches when she wants to distract herself, and if she’s really read all those books that line the floor to ceiling shelf in her room.  He wants to know her, he realizes.  She’s more fascinating than he ever thought possible, and her blood is more addicting than he knew.  He wants to know every aspect that molded her into the person sitting before him.  And one of those aspects is—
“Why did things end between you and Bradley?” He finally asks, his voice low and cautious. “Was it mutual, or...?”
Despite the time Harry took to think of his question, Y/N knew exactly what it was going to be, and she has her answer ready to go the moment the words roll from Harry’s pillowy lips. “He was cheating on me.” She admits with a sigh, her eyes glued to her mimosa glass as she swirls the orange liquid within it. “He went away for university, and I stayed home.  I guess he met someone at school.” Allowing her eyes to flick up to Harry for a moment, Y/N finds the man staring at her blankly with a harsh crease between his brows. “I kind of thought it was going to end, honestly.  He began to get more and more distant...we’d talk less over Skype or the phone...but I didn’t think he’d…” She trails off for a moment, thinking back to the day she found out. “Well.  He did.  I found out from his roommate, and the next day, he and I were through.  And almost five years of memories, time together, shared moments...all of that was just gone.”
Although it’s been years since things ended, and Y/N has moved on in tenfold, she can’t help the way her voice aches at the end of her explanation, which acts as proof of how the raw wound had healed in a way that wasn’t quite right.  No matter how much time passes, no matter how many people she’s been with, no matter how little she cares for Bradley now...nothing will change the fact that he hurt her.  Nothing will mend the jagged scar he created.  Sure, it may fade with time, but it’ll never disappear completely.  And as much as Y/N hates that Bradley still has an effect on her after all this time, she can’t change it.  She’s tried.
“That…” Harry’s cool hand wrapping around her own drags her back to the present, and she lifts her eyes to find the man staring at her with the most tender expression she’s ever seen his sculpted face wear. “That’s awful, Y/N.  I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“It’s—it’s fine.  Really.” Y/N half mumbles the words, distracted by the small circles Harry’s thumb is rubbing against the bone of her wrist.
Chestnut curls swaying, Harry adamantly shakes his head, the crease between his brows deepening with each passing moment. “Don’t.  It’s not fine.  You don’t have to make excuses for someone who hurt you.”
“I’m not making an excuse, I just—”
“Did he hurt you?” Harry’s jade irises fixate on her own with determination. “Yes or no?”
Once Y/N locks her eyes with Harry, she can’t look away.  His gaze nears hypnotic the more she looks. “Yes.  He hurt me.”
“Then he doesn’t deserve you making excuses for him.” The vampire squeezes her hand to emphasize his answer.  Although he’s not compelling her to understand him, Harry looks at her with an unfamiliar sincerity that he hopes makes the depth of his words resonate within her. “You may be fine now, or you may not be, but the situation itself wasn’t fine.  Don’t use your healing as an excuse for his behaviour.  You shouldn’t have had to heal yourself in the first place.”
The gravity of his words rings in Y/N’s ears, and the girl gapes at him for a moment, her mouth half open in shock, before the realization of what he’s saying hits her.  The way he’s staring at her…it’s nearly uncomfortable, the way he sees her.  She almost can’t bear it.  How does he know to say exactly what she needs to hear, even if she doesn’t know she needs to hear it?  Since the first night they slept together, when he reassured her that she could relax and let loose, Harry has been honest and reassuring.  And although Y/N has greatly appreciated that trait in the bedroom, when she’s been at her most vulnerable in a physical aspect…her eyes lock with Harry’s once more, finding them still as steadfast as ever.  This may be the most vulnerable she’s been emotionally in a long time.  And the idea of that, for once, doesn’t completely terrify her. 
The questions get more and more personal from there.  Although there’s a few lighthearted inquiries sprinkled in to ease the tension (“What was the name of your first pet?” “It was a cat named Mr. Snuffleupagus.  I named him after the Sesame Street character.  What’s your earliest childhood memory?” “My sister nearly drowning me in a lake.  She thought I would float.”), the majority of questions asked are things that neither person ever thought they would admit to someone else.  
Those questions range from vaguely prying (“How old were you when you lost your virginity?” “Seventeen.  It was with—” “Bradley and his beginner penis, right.” “Alright, smart ass, who did you lose yours to?” “My first girlfriend.”) to diving deep into memories, stories, and opinions that neither have so much as breathed to themselves in the dark of the night, let alone someone else.
Despite the plan having been to leave after brunch, the pair find themselves engrossed in their conversation, drinking mimosa after mimosa as the late morning bleeds into early afternoon, and they continue to discover each other. 
As Y/N takes a sip of her fourth beverage, Harry regards her with curious eyes, which are focused on picking apart every moment of her body to dissect and devour in his head when he’s alone that night. “So you said pretty much everyone from your hometown marries their high school sweetheart.” He asks slowly, rubbing a jeweled finger over his ice-swollen lips. “But you didn’t, obviously.”
“No, I did not.” Y/N says in agreement, a tipsy snort sounding from the back of her throat as she raises her fluted glass in a toast. “Thank fuck, honestly.  Could you imagine me as a wife right now?  And a mother?  With children?”
Finger tapping against his lip, a cheeky grin tugs at the very corner of his mouth. “No, I couldn’t, frankly.” Harry’s dimples wink at her as he answers. “But what I’d like to know is…do you believe in it?  Marriage, I mean?  Because you said your parents had rough patches, and you thought they mostly stayed together just to stay together, and you and Gherkin Pickle didn’t last—”
“I’m sorry, Gherkin Pickle—?”
“So what I want to know is…” With his thumb and knuckle still grazing his chin, Harry points his finger at the girl across the table. “Marriage.  Do you think there’s value in it?  Do you think someone can be monogamous for their entire life?  Do you want to get married someday?”
The alcohol is beginning to soak into Y/N’s brain, making her bolder with every thump of her heart in her chest.  She leans across the table to ghost her fingers over Harry’s knuckles, continuing to glide them over his cool skin until she reaches his statement rings. “Why?” She asks, a smirk twinkling its way onto her face. “Are you asking?”
“Not quite yet, no.” Harry can feel the alcohol beginning to buzz through his stagnant veins, and he’ll later blame his flirtatious response on the pleasant feeling. “Although you in that dress has me half considering it.”
“Only half considering it?” Y/N clicks her tongue in feigned disappointment, swirling the tip of her index finger over the opal ring that sits upon Harry’s pinkie. “That’s a bit disheartening.  I’ll have to up my game, huh?”
The sight of Y/N’s lithe finger tracing his mother’s ring sends a shock through Harry’s buzzing body.  He can’t quite tell if it’s the witty banter that she matches perfectly and with ease, the lighthearted smile that lifts her soft lips, the gentle pulse he can feel reverberating through her fingertip, or the cleavage that’s just barely slipping out of her dress as she leans over, but Harry can’t tear his eyes away from the mortal girl, not for one second.  He doesn’t want to miss a single moment of her like this.  How it’s all for him. 
“You know, I’m starting to regret my earlier proposal.” He murmurs quietly, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he watches the mortal take a long sip of her mimosa. “How much begging would it take to convince you to follow me to the bathroom right now for a little fun?”
Despite the warmth pooling between her thighs at the offer, Y/N shakes her head. “Too much begging.” She replies, setting her glass back down on the table with a soft clink.  She can already tell there’s a good chance that she’ll go back on the agreement they made, but she wants to make him sweat first.  As much as it tortures her, she knows it tortures him more.  And he’s certainly done his fair share of torturing.  Now it’s her turn. “But speaking of proposals…”
To his credit, Harry doesn’t push the subject of bathroom quickies again. “Right.” He pauses with his glass half raised to his lips. “Marriage.  Thoughts?”
Harry’s attention is rapt as his eyes drift to the mortal’s lips, which pucker slightly as her lightly inebriated mind thinks through the question.  Not for the first time, he wishes he had the ability to take a look inside her head and see how her thoughts form before she voices them. 
“I think…” She fixes her fork against her plate with a clink, her voice light but thoughtful as she forms her response. “I do think there’s value in marriage, but not inherently.  It’s not valuable just because it exists; I think it becomes valuable based on the work you put into it.  My parents, for example…” Her finger begins to circle Harry’s icy knuckle absentmindedly. “My parents didn’t put much work in, so I don’t think their marriage has that much value in comparison to what it could have if they tried.  But if two people put effort in, and strive to be the best partner they can be…I think there’s tremendous value in that.”
Harry responds with a low hum in the back of his throat. “That stands to reason.” He wishes he could take her hand in his own, but the sensation of her warm fingers tracing his skin is too wonderful to pull away. “What about monogamy?  Do you think it’s realistic?”
“I suppose my answer is the same.” Y/N shrugs lightly as her soft skin catches on the corner of Harry’s H ring. “It’s different for everyone, but I do think it can be realistic.  What’s not realistic is the idea that it’s easy.  People change over time, right?  Sometimes someone can change into someone completely different.  You have to expect that, and be flexible with it.”
For the first time since the beginning of their date, an uncomfortably negative feeling buzzes in the pit of Harry’s belly.  Of course Y/N thinks people change—she’s mortal.  But Harry, on the other hand… Harry is forever frozen at twenty-six.  Harry is static.  Harry is stagnant.  However Y/N will change, Harry cannot match it.  Ever. 
That realization helps him identify the uncomfortable feeling as his eyes fall on the girl’s finger tracing his rings.  It’s longing, he discovers, unable to look away from the way her fingernail scratches his immortal skin without so much as leaving a pinkening mark.  Harry will never change again, while Y/N has a whole life of it ahead of her.  Millions of possibilities that lead to millions of more possibilities, always shifting, never staying the same from one moment to the next. 
“As for your last question…” Y/N’s familiar cadence pulls Harry from his thoughts. “I’m not sure.  I wouldn’t completely rule out marriage, but it’s not an active goal of mine.  It all depends on finding someone I think I could grow with and still love at the end of every day.  And despite how simple that sounds,” The short laugh that leaves her mouth is wistful, but hides a tinge of bitterness. “It’s surprisingly hard to find.”
“It is, yeah.” Harry agrees, finishing the remnants of his mimosa with one fell swoop. “Incredibly hard.” His gaze sweeps to Y/N’s glass, which has about one more gulp of liquid left in it.  With the hand not within her grasp, he reaches across the table, picking up the glass and lifting it to her lips. “May I, pet?”
He can hear the way her heartbeat stutters in her chest, and feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she nods slowly.  Harry places the glass between her lips, carefully tilting it back until the drink runs out of the crystal and into her awaiting mouth.  A small droplet streaks from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, and Harry is sure to catch it on his finger after setting the glass down. 
Y/N knows that Harry is doing his best to fluster her, and while it’s working, she knows that she can play the game just as well as he can.  Keeping her eyes on his like a challenge, she grasps the hand touching the corner of her mouth, guiding his finger beyond her lips with a firm grip.  The sweetness of the orange juice and champagne concoction swells across her tongue, but that’s nothing compared to the sweetness of watching Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. 
Pulling his finger from her mouth with a quiet pop, Y/N sets his hand back down on the table, squeezing it once before releasing both of his hands and resting her elbows on the table.  She steeples her fingers together, setting her chin on the makeshift rest as she regards Harry’s darkening eyes. 
“Thanks.” She murmurs, tilting her head to the side lazily as Harry shifts in his chair. “Didn’t realize I missed a drop.  That was a sharp catch, Holmes.”
Harry can’t help but flex his finger as his gaze drops to the digit, catching how a light sheen of saliva covers his skin.  Heat floods between his thighs, making him regret his choice of fashionable linen pants over standard jeans.  “Thank you, Watson.” He matches her banter, albeit with a slightly strained voice. “Shall we order another drink, now that we’ve both finished?”
The question hangs in the air between them like an invitation, open ended and carefully calculated.  Y/N leans forward again, unlocking one of her hands to run a finger over the dark ink staining Harry’s exposed forearm. “I think we should grab the check, actually.” She wets her lips with a swipe of her tongue as she feels Harry’s muscle tense under her touch. “I think I’ve had enough to drink.  Have you?”
All the moisture in Harry’s mouth disappears, his throat burning as the mortal girl’s scent envelops him with every move.  His eyes flicker to her neck, where the thumping of her heart is practically visible underneath her fragile skin.  With his inhuman eyes, he can just make out the ghost of a bruise he sucked into her neck a few nights before.  
Has he had enough to drink?  No.  He’ll never get enough.  But that’s not what Y/N means by the innocuous question. 
“I’ve had my fill, yeah.” Jerking his head in agreement, Harry motions towards the window, where he knows Paige has been analyzing every move between them.  Her displeasure at the close interactions between Harry and Y/N is nearly palpable as she makes her way back to their table, and Harry wonders if Y/N can also sense it, as she seems to be more perceptive than the average human.  When he turns his attention back to her, however, his brow creases in confusion. 
“What are you doing?” He asks, watching as Y/N shifts through her woven bag and extracts her wallet. 
“Grabbing my wallet?” Her expression is just as confused as his own when she replies. “To pay?”
“To—?  No.  Put that away.” Harry says sternly, using the same dominant tone he adopts in the bedroom (only half on purpose). “This is a date.  I’m paying.”
“This isn’t the 18th century, H.  We can split the bill.” Y/N begins to roll her eyes as she opens her wallet, reaching for the debit card stamped neatly with her name.
“I’m well aware it’s not the 18th century, love.” Lip twitching from the wry irony, Harry gently places his hand on her own and closes her wallet. “But it’s a date— our first one, at that— and I’d like to pay for you.  It’s just manners.” 
Although he can feel the grip on her wallet loosening, there’s still a degree of hesitancy apparent in Y/N’s eyes. “Harry—”
“And I don’t mean that in a chauvinistic way, and I don’t mean to imply that you’re incapable of paying.” He swipes his thumb over her knuckle once, letting his physical touch reinforce his words. “I asked you out, yeah?  So I think it’s only fair that I pay.”
Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s pillowy lips as she worries them between her teeth, her resolve getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment.  It only takes three more beats of her heart for her to give a small nod, and Harry, satisfied that she’s agreed, reaches for his wallet to pay the bill.
Despite the temptation to short change Paige on the tip for her disregard for his date, Harry still leaves a sizable tip, saying goodbye to the server with a polite— and only polite— smile.  Once she has her back turned, however, Harry flashes his most genuine grin at Y/N as he scoots his chair away from the table to stand.
Y/N’s hands grip the sides of her chair to match Harry’s motion, but she freezes once she sees the man step towards her.  Within a moment, his jeweled hands are wrapped around the back of her chair, carefully pulling it out before offering her a hand to help her stand.
“Is this going to be a thing now?” Y/N asks, nodding to their clasped hands as she pulls her bag over her shoulder. “Pulling out chairs, opening doors—”
Placing his hand on the small of her back once again, Harry scoffs. “It’s always been a thing,” He argues, guiding her to the patio door and through the restaurant. “You’ve just been dating pricks, apparently.”
Despite his answer, however, even Harry can’t deny that the urge to resurrect his Victorian etiquette is as strange as it is sudden.  And, truth be told, there is something deeply pleasing in the light flush of blood he can hear work its way over Y/N’s cheeks when he opens the door of the restaurant for her, opens the car door, takes her hand to help her in, and shuts the door carefully before making his way to the driver’s side.  
It’s easy to spend the short drive back to her building with his hand entwined with hers, their fingers woven together as Harry’s thumb moves over her knuckles.  Y/N’s skin, like usual, is so warm, almost as if she’s made from sunshine herself.  At this point, Harry wouldn’t be surprised to learn that; her blood could certainly pass for being made from stardust. 
It’s all too soon that Harry is pulling into a parking spot in front of Y/N’s building and turning the key in the ignition, his favourite car smoothly powering down in one fell swoop.  Once the sound of the engine dies down, his eyes refocus on the girl next to him. 
Y/N, in comparison, is just as focused on Harry as Harry is on her.  She knows that it’s time to let go of his hand, time to climb out of the car, time to return to her apartment alone.  Time to fall out of the fantasy that has been this afternoon.  Despite knowing all of this, however, she stays glued to the seat, her eyes locked with Harry’s emerald irises in a soft battle. 
Harry is well aware of the predicament he’s found himself in.  While he was the one to establish the no sex rule in an attempt to keep Y/N comfortable, it’s becoming harder and harder to stick to it with every passing moment.  If he was smart, he’d bid the girl goodbye here, allow her to walk herself into her building, thereby erasing any possibility of him charming her into allowing him inside her apartment.  Then, once he was safely back home, he could draw himself a hot bath, scent it with lavender epsom salts, close his eyes to picture the way Y/N looks with laughter in her eyes, the sun spilling across her cheeks, her dress’ neckline falling dangerously low, and tug himself to a tension-relieving climax. 
However, Harry has never been known for his intelligence. Not as much as he’s been known for his recklessness.
Before he can second guess his most likely terrible decisions, Harry is out of the car and opening Y/N’s door.  He’s helping her out.  He’s guiding her into her building, and climbing up the stairs of her fifth floor walk up with her hand locked in his.  And now he’s standing in front of her apartment door, with Y/N shyly looking at him as she bites her fucking lip, completely unaware of the rampage raging inside the vampire before her. 
And the most infuriating, frustrating thing about the entire situation is the way Y/N is looking at him, like she can barely hold his gaze, but can’t force herself to look away.  Harry can feel the waves of need and uncertainty radiating from her, hear the thumping of her heart in her chest.  The last time she looked at him like this, like she’s unsure of where they stand, was the first night they met.  Harry remembers how she fumbled with her keys, nervously invited him in, and then let him use her in a way that literally drove him to his most primal state.  He remembers the euphoria of sinking his teeth into her neck, tasting her ridiculously sweet blood for the first time as his orgasm rolled over him, wave after wave of intense pleasure blurring together as his eyes burned crimson, the lewd sounds of their bodies moving together, the desperate whines that echoed from her throat...
“Thank you for lunch.” Y/N’s sweet voice interrupts his walk down memory lane, and with good timing— five more seconds, and Harry would have been pushing her against her front door to rut her dress up and slip inside her. “And the drinks.  I had a really nice time.”
Clearing his throat, Harry pushes the indecent thoughts from his head as best he can.  He can take care of this later, he tells himself.  He just has to be a gentleman for a few more minutes, and then he can go home, and be as depraved as he needs to be. “I did, as well.” The vampire squeezes her hand in preparation of letting go of it. “A really lovely time, actually.  I’d like to do it again.”
The way Y/N’s eyes widen ever so slightly as her breath just barely hitches, both of which would be imperceivable to human senses, makes Harry bite back a laugh. “I would too.” A more reassured smile rolls over her face as she leads his hand to her waist, setting it just over her hip and squeezing his fingers around her love handles. 
Even after everything Harry has done to her, all the ways he’s seen her, felt her, made her feel— even after all that— his hand on her hip over her dress still sends a shiver down her spine. “I don’t want you to go…” She confesses in a quiet voice, rubbing her thumb over his icy knuckles. “It feels strange, not having you come inside…”
“I know.” A sigh escapes Harry’s lips as he leans down, brushing his forehead over hers as he murmurs his response, his voice dangerously low. “But if I come inside, I know what I’ll do.  And I promised that I would behave myself today.”
“I don’t mind breaking promises.” Y/N wisps, closing her eyes as Harry’s breath, tinged with orange from the mimosa and mint from the candy the restaurant gave them with the bill, rolls over her in a delicious wave. 
Nudging his nose against her own, Harry shakes his head with the smallest of motions, his fingertips digging further into Y/N’s love handles. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over hers, barely even brushing before he pulls away again. “One of us needs to have some self control.”
Y/N wedges her free hand between their bodies, resting it over Harry’s chest with her fingers curled along the unbuttoned edge of his shirt. “If you insist.” Her fingernails dig just the slightest bit into Harry’s sturdy chest, savouring the way she feels his body tense beneath her. “If you want to be boring, then that’s fine.”
Harry laughs quietly at the small attempt to tease his ego, and although his instinct tells him to prove her wrong, he just nods his head. “Am I too boring to receive a goodbye kiss?” He brushes a loose hair back from her forehead before cradling her warm cheek, guiding his thumb over her cheekbone in a repeated action. “Haven’t kissed you in hours.  Feels wrong.”
Butterflies burst into flight in Y/N’s stomach at the innocent request coupled with the sweet explanation.  They’ve done everything in the wrong order, she thinks, as she allows Harry to smudge small pecks along her chin and cheeks.  The very first night they met, she allowed him to use her in any way he wanted, and he allowed her the same luxury.  They’ve spent the last month exploring each other’s bodies, getting to know every nook and cranny, every preference.  They’ve grown accustomed to how the other moves in their sleep, how they wake up in the morning, if they shower at sunrise or sunset.  And now, after all that, they’ve finally had what has probably been the best first date in the history of first dates, and this man, who has already coaxed countless orgasms from her shivering body, who has learned all of her likes and dislikes, is asking for a goodbye kiss like a nervous teenager walking his crush home from biology class.
How could she refuse him?
The answer is simple: she can’t.  In fact, she’s not sure she could refuse Harry anything he asked of her.  And maybe that would be worrisome— it probably should be worrisome— if the idea of giving Harry whatever he wanted didn’t bring a wave of warmth to Y/N’s belly that travels from her center to the very tips of her fingers.
“No,” She wraps the loose fabric of his shirt around her fingers, clutching him as close as she possibly can. “You’re not too boring, H.  You’re never boring.” Y/N sucks in a breath as she feels Harry’s teeth graze over her jaw, marking her ever so slightly as her lover makes his way back to her lips fervently. 
He smudges a kiss at the corner of her lips, pulling a strained whimper from her as she waits for him to kiss her properly. 
“Ask me.” He whispers, grazing his fingers over her cheekbone again and again. “Ask me to kiss you.  I want to hear you say it, sweetheart.”
The request is so innocent compared to everything else Harry has ever asked her to do, and his voice lacks the dominant command it usually carries over her, but Y/N feels just as weak as she would if he ordered her to get on her knees. “Harry…” Her voice floats through the miniscule space between them, so quiet that it’s barely audible over their laboured breathing, but Harry still thinks it sounds like a song. “Please kiss me.  Kiss me goodbye.”
A groan reverberates in the back of Harry’s throat, and the tiny molecule of composure that he has left in him slips away as he glides his lips over her own silky pair, his fingers threading into her hair on instinct.  Although he does his best to restrain himself, it becomes more difficult with every passing moment, and becomes damn near impossible when he hears the way Y/N whines at the sensation of their lips brushing together with more and more force.
Despite his best efforts, Harry soon finds his hands moving of their own accord as his palm travels from Y/N’s hip towards her ass, ruffling her dress as he grips her and thrusts a leg between her own.  He backs the mortal up into her door, her back hitting the wood with a delicate thud, and the groan she releases worries him for a split second before he feels her grind against his thigh situated between her legs.
Harry knows that the pretense of this just being a goodbye kiss went out the window the moment he touched her, and although she’s responding in kind, he has to live up to his word.  He has to.  He swore that he wouldn’t fuck her today, and as much as he wants to, as much as it seems that she wants to— and if the red hot heat burning his thigh is any hint, she very much wants to— he has to regain some self control.  Despite all his shortcomings, or how his thirst for her blood outweighs any other desire he has for her, he has to remain a gentleman.  Even if it means peeling himself away from the beautiful girl who is scratching at his chest, moaning into his mouth, grinding against his thigh, and speaking between ragged gasps—
“Fuck the promise.” She groans into his ear, her teeth grazing over his lobe with more pressure than Harry thought her capable. “Please, H.  I know what we said, but I need you.” 
Harry curses under his breath at the sensation, his eyes rolling back into his head for a split second, and he knows that if he doesn’t distance himself, he’ll succumb to her begging. “I can’t, darling.  I can’t.” He chokes out the words between pants, bumping his forehead against Y/N’s as he struggles to catch a breath that he’s forgotten he doesn’t need.  It’s funny, he manages to think, how he teased Y/N for not keeping her hands off him earlier, when he’s the one who can’t bear to be away from her touch now. “I want to— Christ, I want to— but I’m trying to behave.”
“Behaving is stupid.” Y/N mutters, smudging her lips across Harry’s stubbled jaw and down his neck, leaving small marks in her wake. “What happened to giving into desires?”
Good fucking question.
Harry squeezes his eyes shut tightly, a choked laugh escaping his heaving chest. “That was when we were just fucking.  Now we’re…”
Y/N regards the man with hooded eyes, a flutter of hope shining through the desire that’s settled in her chest.  What exactly are they?  They’re not dating, she knows that for certain.  But they’re not exactly just fuck buddies anymore. “We’re what?” She prompts after Harry trails off. 
“We’re…” Harry struggles to form a coherent thought, too entranced by the feeling of Y/N in his arms to think straight.  Sucking in a deep breath, the fragrant scent of the girl’s arousal burning his throat, Harry forces himself to take the smallest step back from her, although his hands stay locked around her hip and her cheek. “We’re saying goodbye.”
A defeated sigh falls from Y/N’s swollen lips, but she nods gently at the man before her, brushing her thumb over his exposed collar bones with great care. “Alright.” She mumbles, disappointment laced through her voice. “Goodbye.”
The glum tone brings a small smile to Harry’s cherry lips. “It’s just for a little while, love.  Not forever.” Harry teases her as he swipes his thumb over her flushed cheek. “Couldn’t stay away from you that long.” 
The breathless flush turns into a pleased warmth as Y/N struggles to hide the smile threatening to break across her expression.  Taking the change in mood as a hint, Harry ducks his head, pressing his lips against hers with an earnest softness for just a moment before stepping back and releasing the mortal girl from his grasp.
“Goodbye.” He murmurs again, his belly aching at the thought of leaving Y/N alone for the rest of the day.  It really does feel unnatural, he’s surprised to find.  Has he really gotten that used to being around her?
It’s a strange process, leaving Harry at the door.  After she finally says goodbye again, shuts the door, locks it tightly, and slips on the chain, Y/N finds herself touching the wood, her palm pressed flat against the surface as if she can feel Harry on the other side.  It takes her a moment to walk away from it, the buzz of the mimosas and their first date streaming through her veins.
Checking her phone for the first time, Y/N is surprised to find that it’s nearly 4pm— had they really been in the restaurant for almost five hours?  No wonder the server had been giving her a dirty look; they’d spent so long just talking and sipping drinks, ordering no other food, and not giving up their table.  She’d probably be glaring too.
Admittedly, there is a slight rumble in Y/N’s stomach, as they ate over four hours ago, but she ignores it as she takes a seat on the couch to untie her pink vans, tossing them into the corner before slipping off her jean jacket.  She tosses that over the couch too, running her hands through her mussed hair.  She’s not quite sure what she’ll do with the rest of her day now that she’s alone.  She could indulge some reading, or answer some messages from relatives, or maybe even—
A pounding on the door disrupts her thoughts, jerking her eyes from the book on her coffee table to her front door.  With her brow furrowed in confusion, Y/N rises from the couch and walks to the door, gliding the chain free and turning the lock before swinging the door open.
Braced in the doorway with shining eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a heaving chest as if he’s run all the way back up to her apartment, is Harry.  He takes a moment to compose himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as she takes in her more relaxed appearance.
“I couldn’t go.” He confesses, answering the question on the tip of Y/N’s tongue before she even has the chance to speak it. “I made it down to my car, and then—”
Y/N grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him into her apartment, slamming the door behind them before reaching for Harry again.  His hands are already outstretched to receive her, having grown used to their intimacy routine, and she’s pleased when he automatically rests his palms on her lower back and her neck as she wedges her lips between his once again.
“I don’t want you to go.” Y/N gasps the words against his mouth, barely peeling herself back from him to utter the sentence. “I need you so fucking bad, H, please—”
With great difficulty, Harry attempts to think straight, but it gets harder when Y/N bucks her hips and— well, it gets harder. “I meant what I said, Y/N.  I did, I—I made a promise, and I have to—”
“What do I have to do?” Y/N demands, tangling her fingers in Harry’s chestnut curls and forcing him to look her in the eye. “I fucking need something, Harry, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”
Christ.  Harry’s had his suspicions, but now he’s convinced that this girl has some direct line to all his weaknesses, because she knows exactly how to stroke his ego like no one else has before.  She presses every one of his buttons every time.  She’s allowed him to handcuff her, take her in every position, manhandle her, slap her around, and she still begs him for more.  Is there anything that she hasn’t done better than anyone else?
And that’s when it hits him.  The perfect loophole.
Harry is so excited at the possibility of relief that he nearly whimpers, just barely managing to bite back the sound at the last second as he smooths his fingers over his lover’s wild hair. “What about when I’m not here, pet?” He goads her softly, a glint shining in the corner of his darkening eyes. “What do you do then?”
“I…” Although confusion is present in Y/N’s voice, she answers him promptly— she’s gotten used to obeying his sexual requests over the course of the month. “I call you.  And you...you tell me what to do, usually.”
“Tell you what?” Harry hungrily prompts her again, tugging on her hair with the lightest of touches.  Like before, he wants to hear her say it. “What do I tell you to do?”
“You tell me how to—how to touch myself.” The mortal girl stammers, shyness creeping into her tone despite having begged for Harry mere moments earlier. “And then I do.”
“You do.  You behave so well for me.” Keeping his voice as smooth and sensual as possible— which isn’t hard for him, if he’s honest— Harry twirls a lock of Y/N’s hair around his finger, wrapping it around the length as his fingertip brushes over her lip. “I tell you what to do, and you do it.  And you moan for me, and send me the prettiest pictures.” He presses harder against her lip, dragging her mouth open as a whimper escapes. “And I always think: what would it be like to see that in person?”
Although the effect of the mimosas has faded by now, Y/N’s head is swimming in a cloud of Harry’s cologne and her own lust, and she struggles to understand the double meaning in his words. “What—what do you mean?  You’ve seen me in bed—”
The innocent confusion in her voice tantalizes Harry in the best way. “When I’m touching you.  But that’s not what I want.” He murmurs, grinding his hips back into her own. “I know how to get around my promise.”
He watches as the realization dawns on Y/N’s face, her heart stuttering as warmth floods through her body. “Y-you mean—?  You want to see me…?”
“I want to see you touch yourself.” Harry finishes her thought as his eyes darken, and he licks his lips at the image of Y/N laid out on her bed, legs spread wide, showing off just for him.  Only for him. “Will you let me?”
And there it is.  That wave of warmth and desire spreads through Y/N’s tummy, begging her to say yes to any request that falls from Harry’s mouth.  The urge is so strong that she nearly begins to strip, her fingers edging to the hem of her dress, before she manages to form a clear thought of pause. “Are you sure you want to see me…?” She dances around the word for a second time. “Like, I—I don’t know if it’s very sexy, or—”
“Is that a fucking joke?” Harry laughs incredulously, his thumb swiping over the edge of Y/N’s jaw.  He could leave so many pretty marks… “Of course it’ll be sexy.  Christ, love, it’s fucking you.”
The statement that Harry makes is so sure, so confident, that it nearly sends Y/N reeling.  The human’s eyelids flutter as he begins to pepper kisses along her cheekbones and down her jaw, his tongue swiping over her sensitive skin every few moments. 
“Anything you do is sexy.” He whispers the words against her skin, his voice low and accent thick enough that it seems to fill the entire hallway. “Literally anything… How you lick your lips after taking a drink, how you get in and out of my car so delicately… It’s all so fucking erotic.” Y/N shivers when a breath of cool air hits the damp skin of her neck as Harry laughs lightly. “I’ve got a bloody hard-on nearly every moment of the day.”
Hearing the confession that tumbled from Harry’s cool lips, Y/N thinks, is the verbal equivalent of doing three shots of tequila and chasing with a vodka soda.  The words wash over her as easily as Harry’s cologne does whenever she gets close to him, and her fingers tug on his brunette locks with need. “Really?  Even today?”
“Are you kidding?  Especially today.  Look at what you’re wearing…” His icy fingers skim down her neck before tracing over the cleavage that the neckline of her yellow dress leaves exposed. “Every time you leaned over to take a bite of food, I nearly came in my trousers.”
Despite the desire curling itself around Y/N’s core, she can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “That would’ve been a sight.” She scratches her nails lightly against Harry’s scalp, the motion surprisingly tender for their topic of conversation. “Would’ve had to ask Paige for another napkin.”
“It would’ve been properly humiliating, yeah.” Harry agrees easily, unconcerned with the thought as his lips follow the path led by his fingers. “But it would’ve been worth it.”
While the pair’s position is rather incriminating— Y/N’s hands in Harry’s hair, Harry clutching her as close as possible, his lips travelling over any exposed skin he can find— there’s an air of careful consideration floating around them.  As much as Harry wants to see the girl in his arms pleasure herself, he wants it to be her decision.  Anything less wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying. 
“Y’don’t have to do it just for me, Y/N.” The vampire takes the slightest step back to give her some room to breathe without his close proximity to cloud her judgement. “But if it’s my reaction you’re worried about…” Harry untangles one of her hands from his hair, ghosting it down his body before cautiously laying it over his white linen trousers, where his bulge is growing more prominent by the second. “You have nothing to be worried about.”
A desperate whine nearly escapes Y/N’s mouth, but she manages to bite it back at the last moment.  She wants him.  As nervous as she is to have him watch her touch herself, she’s more turned on than anything.  When she sends Harry explicit texts and photos that are most certainly not safe for work, part of the thrill is the reaction she gets from him.  A dirty photo is only as sexy as the other person’s reception of it.  To see Harry’s reactions in person… it would be a lie to say she’s not into the idea. 
But it would also be a lie to say that she doesn’t want something in return. 
“Alright.  You can watch me.” Y/N relents with a sigh, and she takes a moment to enjoy the triumphant look in Harry’s eyes before tacking on her addendum. “On one condition.”
“Anything.” 
Y/N squeezes her hand over his bulge, making the slightest stroking motion upwards towards his belly as a low groan rolls from Harry’s mouth. “I get to watch you touch yourself, too.”
There’s not even a moment of hesitation. “Done.” Harry seals his lips over hers firmly the moment the word exits his mouth, grinding against her hand as he backs her into the wall.  Her back hits the panel with a quiet thud, but Y/N is too busy twisting her fingers around the button of Harry’s pants to notice. 
“Ah ah ah.” Harry tuts as his jeweled hand grabs her wrist, pulling it away from his hardening cock while making sure not to use too much strength on her fragile joint. “You don’t get to do that, pet.  You’ll only be undressing yourself tonight.  It’s only fair.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about fair.” Y/N huffs her reply, but doesn’t pull her wrist from her lover’s grip. “You’re the one who made the stupid rule in the first place!”
Clicking his tongue, Harry takes another step back from the young woman while keeping his other hand floating over her hip. “And you agreed.” He reminds her as the corner of his lip tugs up. “So I think it’s best you behave, don’t you?”
Although the statement turns her legs to jelly, Y/N doesn’t let it show, and instead steels her resolve as best she can. “I’m behaving.” She mutters, crossing her free hand underneath the arm in Harry’s grip. 
“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Harry swipes his thumb over the delicate bones of her wrist, feeling her pulse stutter beneath his touch.  The vampire swallows the venom that spills into his mouth at the thumping rhythm.  He’ll have time for that later. 
Chest heaving, Y/N wets her dry lips as best she can despite the lack of moisture in her mouth. “So where are we…?” She trails off as she glances down the hallway of her apartment. “The living room is probably best, position wise…one of us can be on the couch, and the other on a chair.”
“That’s true…” Harry nods his head, but a frown settles over his pillowy lips. “But it’s not very comfortable for you.  You usually lie down when you get off, don’t you?” Like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it’s spoken with a tone of efficiency and casual observance, simply to find the best approach for any situation. 
And, like every other technically intimate question Harry has ever asked her, it sends a shock of warmth into her panties. 
“I-I do, yeah.” Y/N stutters her response, clearing her throat before adding onto the short statement. “I’m usually in bed.”
Harry nods expectantly, like her reply is just a confirmation for him. “We’ll go to your bedroom, then.” He says decisively, his grip on her wrist loosening. “You can lie down, get comfortable.  I’ll stand.”
Leading the mortal to her bedroom, Harry slides open the door, guiding her inside before shutting it with a firm click.  When he turns back around to look at her, she’s looking at him expectantly, her fingers twisting around each other as she stares at him with wide eyes.  She trusts him, he realizes, not for the first time.  She really does trust him. 
Although the anticipation is written clearly across her pretty features, Harry knows she needs a small prompt to begin. “How are you usually dressed when you do this alone?” He asks quietly, his own fingers working over the buttons on his shirt smoothly. “Completely bare?  Fully clothed?  Underwear only?” One of his dimples makes an appearance as he smiles with half his mouth. “Wearing only that sweater of mine that you’ve pretty much stolen?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, that sweater’s too warm.” Y/N replies with an eye roll, tugging off the jean jacket covering her smooth shoulders. “I, um…it depends.  If it’s just quick, then usually I’m clothed, but if I’m taking my time, then I’ll just, um, I’ll be in my underwear.  Sometimes just my bra.”
Harry’s fingers finish with his last button, and he leaves his open shirt draped over his tall frame. “We’ll be taking our time, angel.  So just get as comfortable as you usually would.”
Y/N nods her head in a jerking manner, sucking in a deep breath through her parted lips in an attempt to calm the heave that threatens her chest.  The erotic tension in the air could be cut with a knife as she tosses her jacket to the side and works her fingers over the zipper of her dress, which catches for a moment and puts up a struggle as she fights to undo it.  Once she wins the battle, she tugs the yellow dress down her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out of it and tossing it to the side.  Her bra and panties aren’t matching, with the former being a delicate baby pink lace, while the latter are lavender cotton, but she doesn’t let herself focus on that detail.  Instead, her fingers hover for a moment at the waist of her panties, hooking in the elastic before she changes her mind at the last minute and decides to keep them on.  For now, at least. 
Harry watches the entire ritual with starved eyes.  He wants Y/N to start before he does, so she can get into a natural rhythm herself, but he can’t resist palming himself over his trousers like she did a moment ago, despite his icy touch not being nearly as satisfying as hers. 
Y/N, however, has different plans, regarding him with heavy lashes as she takes a step back towards her bed. “Your turn.” She murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed and curling her fingers around her ruffled comforter. 
“All in due time.” Harry assures her with a wry smile, ghosting his fingers along his inked abdomen. “Get comfortable, baby.  Pretend I’m not here.”
“Like that’s possible.” The mortal girl mutters under her breath, unaware that Harry’s supernatural hearing can pick it up as if she were shouting in his ear.  Nevertheless, she does as he says, scooting back on the bed until her shoulders reach her pillows.  She lays back on the soft cushions, shifting around until the padding feels comfortable beneath her back.  She lays there for a moment, her arms folded neatly over her bare stomach as she licks her lips expectantly. “Now?”
“Now…” Harry flicks open the button of his trousers. “Do whatever you like to do.  Whatever feels good.”
It takes Y/N another moment to work up the courage to actually do something.  The trick, she realizes, is closing her eyes.  If she so much as catches a glimpse of Harry watching her, her entire body tenses, and she can’t even manage to move a finger over her stomach.  With her eyes closed, however, she can imagine that Harry isn’t there, and she’s just in her room, with his only influence being in her mind as she touches herself.  It may not make much sense, when she could just use the real image of him to fuel her thoughts, but Harry’s presence is so dominating that pretending he’s not there seems to be the only solution.
And so, when her eyes are shut tightly enough that she can’t see the man, but loose enough that she’s comfortable, Y/N begins to touch herself lightly, her fingers tracing over the dips of her stomach with the smallest amount of contact she can manage.
Her touch moves over her skin like a flutter, its only purpose to warm herself up and ease herself into being watched, and while the small brushes against her own skin would normally have no effect on her, in this moment, with Harry standing by her bed, the action feels more erotic than she ever would’ve thought possible.  She slowly glides her hands up to the pink lace of her bra, tracing her finger along the edge of the cup before sliding over the lace to the hardening peaks of her nipples.  She’s more sensitive than she thought, and Y/N’s breath hitches for a moment as she brushes against one nub, tweaking it once more with her finger before repeating the motion on her other breast.  When a quiet but harsh exhale sounds from Harry’s direction, the human girl amuses the idea of removing her bra to give more visual stimulus, but quickly decides against it.  Harry said he wanted to see what she does to herself, she thinks, keeping her eyes closed as she massages her breasts once more.  He didn’t ask her to perform a strip tease for him.
And, in truth, a strip tease is the farthest thing that Harry wants in this moment.  Any girl can take off her clothes and touch herself to put on a show for a voyeur.  If Harry really wanted to watch that, he could easily find countless porn videos depicting the real thing.  But the sight of Y/N gliding her fingers over the soft lace of her bra, tracing unseen roadmaps over the mountains and valleys of her chest and abdomen, parting her lips just slightly as she twists her nipple once more… that’s what Harry wants.  Despite the countless erotic activities Harry has engaged with Y/N, this may be the most intimate, even without touching her.  Maybe that’s why, he muses, only half in the thought as he slowly tugs down the zipper on his trousers, doing his best to make no noise so as not to startle the girl in front of him.  She’s letting him see what she does to herself when no one is around, when she just wants to make herself feel good.  It’s a selfish act, in the best way.  And it’s making Harry’s cock throb like never before.
Y/N’s hands have reached the edge of her panties now, and with her legs spread wide open, Harry can see the dampened spot staining the lavender cotton a shade darker.  Her scent wafts over him as she moves, slipping her hand beneath the fabric, and Harry’s own eyelids flutter as she fills every one of his senses.  There’s a small part of his more instinctual mind cursing him for thinking of this— for establishing an activity where he can see her, smell her, but not touch her.  However, there’s a larger part of his mind thanking him for this.  For the opportunity to bask in Y/N’s own sensuality and pleasure.
The dampness that greets Y/N’s fingers as she slides into her panties isn’t a surprise, but still provides relief.  For a brief moment, the girl had been worried that she’d be too nervous about the situation to let herself enjoy it, but as she teasingly circles her index finger around her clit, she knows that enjoying it won’t be a problem.  Although she misses Harry’s cool touch, the feeling of his rings sliding over her clammy skin, and although it may seem untrue when Harry is in bed with her, no one knows Y/N’s body like she does.  No one can instantly know what feels good and what doesn’t, what needs to be touched with more force, what needs to be gently caressed with a feather light pressure.  Y/N alone is the keeper of those secrets, and although she’s begun to whisper those unspoken tokens to Harry in the dead of the night as he lays between her thighs, she alone knows the real truths.
She continues to circle her clit for a few moments, gradually applying more and more pressure as her free hand clutches her bare thigh, her fingertips digging into her squishy flesh.  It doesn’t take long, however, for Y/N to need more, and she allows her fingers to run over her entrance a few times before dipping her index finger into her hot core. 
While the sound that leaves her mouth is quiet and could potentially go unnoticed, it’s the loud groan from Harry that snaps the human’s eyes open, and the sight in front of her that stops her movements in their tracks.  With her index finger still half inside her, and her grip on her thigh tightening, Y/N gapes at him unabashedly, because Harry looks like a fucking god. 
Her eyes sweep over him methodically, committing every inch of his appearance to memory so as not to ever forget what he looks like when pleasuring himself.  His chestnut curls are tinged with sweat, just beginning to plaster to his damp forehead and neck.  His jade eyes are darkening by the second, while his strawberry lips are parted and dry, despite him swiping his tongue over them every minute or so.  His toned chest is bare, displaying his dark ink for Y/N’s viewing, heaving with every movement of his tattooed arm.  And lower… Y/N moans again as she clutches her leg tighter, nearly enough to bruise.  Harry hasn’t completely removed his pants, but he’s pushed them down low enough that he’s freed his cock, which stands tall and proud and angrily red at the tip that pokes through the tight fist he has wrapped around the length.  Despite the tension in his body, however, Harry flicks his wrist lazily, teasing himself as much as Y/N did earlier, and she wonders if he does it for the same reason she did.  To give their lover something to look at. 
With her eyes locked with Harry’s, Y/N pushed her middle finger inside herself, whimpering at how the extra digit stretches her out.  She curves her fingers as they move in and out of her at a leisurely pace, focused more on reaching deeper than reaching a quick speed.  While her hand busies itself inside her panties, she slides the other from her thigh back up to her breast, gripping and massaging it as her lashes flicker. 
“Look at you.” Harry utters with a groan, breaking the silence between them as he thumbs over the leaking head of his cock. “Christ, you look so fucking filthy.” His eyes shift from hers for just a moment, glueing themselves to the shadows of motion he can see beneath her underwear. “Does that feel good, angel?”
A high pitched whine falls from Y/N’s mouth as she presses the pads of her fingers against the spongy spot inside her, setting off a wave of bliss inside her belly. “Yeah.  Feels—feels really good, Harry.” His name leaves her lips in a breathy mewl as she tweaks her nipple over her bra, throwing her head back against her pillow. 
The newly exposed skin of her neck beckons Harry.  It’s completely covered with a thin veil of sweat, with the heat radiating from her throbbing pulse seemingly reaching towards him at the end of the bed.  He takes a half step forward without realizing it, only catching his action when his knees bump the edge of the mattress. “Fuck—” He closes his reddening eyes to collect himself as his hand quickens its pace around his prick, only opening them again when he’s sure he’s under control. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“I think I have a bit of an idea.” She mutters in reply, stroking small circles over her clit with her thumb. “It’s not like you can hide it.”
“But you’re hiding.” The vampire replies in a strained voice, tightening his fist around his cock as he nods to the girl’s covered core. “Take those off for me, pet.  Please.”
Y/N withdraws her fingers from her dripping center, her skin shining in the light of her bedroom as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of the panties. “Wait—” she says suddenly, pausing her obedient motion. “Wait, I—”
The moment his foggy mind registers the word, Harry’s palm stills over his length, and although he doesn’t let go completely, he forces his body to calm down as he appraises the human. “What?” He questions, concern laced into his thick accent. “What’s wrong?”
Sitting up on her elbows, Y/N raises her head from her pillow as she scoots closer to her bedroom wall, stopping once her heated skin grazes the tapestry. “I want you next to me.” Her eyes are pleading as the words fall from her mouth, quiet and desperate. “I promise I’ll stick to the rule— I won’t touch you. I just want you to be comfortable, too, and… and I like it when you’re close.  Please?”
The idea of refusing her doesn’t even enter Harry’s mind.  Within seconds, faster than a mortal ever would, Harry has stripped off his trousers, leaving himself in just his dark blue boxers that are still half rugged down.  He crawls onto the bed quickly, only letting his knee brush against Y/N’s leg before situating himself six inches away from her.  Even with the distance between them, he can still feel an electric energy radiating off of her as her fragrance becomes thicker and all encompassing, making his head swim in the intoxicating honey and lavender perfume. 
“M’here.” Harry murmurs the assurance softly, his fingers aching to reach out and touch her.  Surely that’s not against the rules?  After all, caressing someone’s cheek, and only for a moment, isn’t necessarily sexual.  With that rationalization in his mind, his jeweled fingers brush against the young woman’s flushed cheek, grazing upwards to push a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Y/N whispers back to him, her hands now resting on her tummy as she stares longingly at the figure next to her in bed.  She wonders if the comforting touch is allowed, but decides not to question it.  Questioning it may make it stop, and that’s the last thing she wants.  Instead, Y/N simply places her hand over Harry’s, interlocking their fingers together and bringing his hand to her mouth to smudge a soft kiss over the back of his icy knuckles. 
Harry can feel the pulsing of her heart through her lips, and it takes all of his inhuman strength to pull his hand from hers as carefully as he can. “I think you made me a deal, didn’t you?” He asks, disguising the want in his voice behind a teasing tone. “You said that if I got up here next to you, you’d…” Harry clicks his tongue as he nods at her cotton panties. “Hm?”
Despite the small laugh that escapes her, Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’ve got a one track mind, I swear.” She hooks her fingers into the edge of her panties, lifting her bum off the bed to tug them down her legs and toss to the side. “Happy?”
Harry licks his lips as he watches the girl’s hands drift back to her bare thighs, gliding over the silky skin with small strokes. “Very much so, yeah.” He replies, pushing his own hair back from his face before trailing his fingers back down his stomach.  He wraps his right hand back around his leaking cock, stroking it once as he glances at Y/N again. “Keep going, dove.  Don’t stop on my account.”
It’s like they’re back at the beginning,Y/N thinks, as she dips her index and middle fingers back into her wetness before she circles them around her clit.  With Harry next to her, his presence so very there, Y/N has to close her eyes again to compel herself to relax.  It takes a few moments of massaging her clit and focusing on keeping her breathing steady before she can open her eyes again and allow her gaze to slide back onto Harry. 
The vampire, as expected, looks like an erotic renaissance painting.  His hand is moving faster over his cock now, which is bubbling precum with every few strokes.  His hips buck into his hand every so often, searching for more and more friction as he chases his high.  Like herself, Harry has his eyes closed for much of his movements, but when he does open them, they’re pinned to her form and how she touches herself, like she’s his own personal show.  And, in a way, she is.  And she likes that.
It’s not long before Y/N needs more stimulation, and she thrusts her two fingers back inside herself as her other hand begins to rub over her clit.  The dual sensation sends a hoarse moan falling from her lips, her tummy contracting with the wave of ecstasy that she knows is getting closer, but it’s the feeling of Harry’s lips on her temple that has her breath stuttering. 
His slightly chapped lips move over her skin in slow and sensual movements, opening and closing as he speaks against her. “That’s it, darling.  You’re so close, I can tell.” He sucks in a long breath while bucking his hips into his fist, a whining moan echoing from his throat and into her ear. “Fuck, you’ve got me wrecked…”
Curling her fingers inside, Y/N prods against her G-spot with fervent desire, leaning her head closer and closer to Harry’s mouth as she does so. “I’m gonna cum, Harry, I—” Her words cut off with a broken whine as her spongy walls clench around her fingers. 
“Wish I could touch you.” Harry mutters the dirty confession in her ear, his lips still meeting every inch of skin they can find. “Wish I could make my pretty girl cum…” His brow furrows at the whimper that escapes Y/N at those words. “But at least I know you can—Christ—” He swipes his thumb over his tip again as his other hand moves to his balls, massaging over them with a gentle touch. “—can take care of yourself when I’m not here.”
When Harry’s lips find her neck, suckling at the sensitive spot where it meets her jaw, Y/N moans again, louder than before as she bucks her hips into her hand. “Fuck, Harry—” The way she sobs his name is music to his ears. “Can—can I cum?  Please?” The question rolls off her tongue without prompt, sounding as natural as breathing to the girl. Harry’s not even sure she registers that she’s asked, but the question for permission goes straight to his throbbing cock. 
“Yeah, baby. Cum for me.” He drags his teeth over her fragile skin, aching to bite down but restraining himself from giving in.  Instead, he redirects his reaction to his hand, speeding up his strokes until he feels his balls tighten. “Cum for Daddy.” The way he feels her heart stutter at his words feeds his ego like nothing else, and he brings one hand up from his abdomen to rest on her throat, stretching his fingers to grip her chin and direct her face towards his. “Show Daddy how good you’re making yourself feel.” He demands, his lips ghosting over her own as they both work themselves towards the edge.  His voice sounds less himself and more like a growl with every passing moment. “Cum.”
It’s the final harsh demand that pushes Y/N to thrust her fingers into herself faster, matching her motions over her clit to the new speed.  It only takes a few more moments for the tight ball of pleasure inside her belly to burst, the waves of her orgasm washing over her repeatedly as her walls pulse around her fingers. “Daddy—” The name falls from her mouth and into Harry’s freely.  Her only thoughts are of him as her climax consumes her; only his emerald eyes and cherry lips, only his brunette curls and inked skin, only his calloused hands and thick cock.  He’s all she can think about.  Has there ever been anyone else? “Please, Daddy…”
Harry watches with hungry eyes as the human’s body spasms through her release, the movements of her hands shuddering as the pleasure becomes too great to move. “That’s it, sweetheart.  Good girl.” He grunts the praise through clenched teeth as his own orgasm nears, his hand twisting around his cock more and more. “Prettiest little slut in the world, y’know that?”
Y/N releases a whine of acknowledgement, her chest heaving as she comes down from her high and withdraws her fingers from her core.  Resting her hands on her clenching belly, she turns her heavy lidded gaze towards Harry, watching him eagerly as he works himself. “Your turn.” She murmurs, her lips finding the edge of his sharp jaw and giving it a teasing bit. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?  All over your stomach?”
“If—fuck—if that’s where you want it, baby.” Harry groans loudly as his stomach clenches, the butterfly flexing beneath his strained movements. “You want to watch me cum?  Hm?”
“Mhmm.” Y/N hums the agreement against his skin, clasping her hands together to stop herself from reaching for Harry’s cock. “You’re usually inside me when you cum, so I’ve never seen it.  I want to see it.”
“God, I—” Harry reaches over with his free hand and grasps Y/N’s warm palm, dragging it up to his hair and tangling her fingers in his dark locks.  It’s a poor substitute for the craving he has to feel her touch over his cock, but the sensation of her tugging on his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp manages to provide the contact relief he desires. “Fuck, right there—” Harry’s abdomen contracts once more as he works himself over the edge and begins to shoot thick ropes of cum all over his tattooed tummy. 
Y/N continues to work her lips over his jaw, whispering anything and everything into his ear to continue to stimulate him through his orgasm. “Looks so pretty, H.” She utters once his cock has finally stopped spurting and he releases it from his grip. “You’re so pretty…”
A breathless laugh leaves Harry’s mouth as he shifts in the bed, wiping his damp hand against his indigo boxers before pulling them back over his shaking hips and exposed cock. “You’re one to talk.” He murmurs, twisting his head to the side to press a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead. “You don’t happen to have a wash cloth handy, do you?”
“I have tissues in my bedside table.” Y/N points to the object in question, and Harry reaches over and tugs open the drawer to retrieve the box of Kleenex.  Pulling a few squares from the box, he makes quick work of the cleanup, doing just enough to save him from the trouble of a sticky stomach. 
“I could’ve done that, you know.  Cleaned you up.” Y/N watches as the vampire stands to dispose of the used tissues, and reaches for her discarded panties to tug them back over her still shaky legs. “You know I like it.”
“I know, but if you did, then I would’ve broken the no sex rule right then and there.” Harry chuckles lightly as he climbs back onto the bed, wanting to reclaim his close proximity to Y/N as soon as possible. “And we’d already come so far.” 
When he opens his arms, Y/N doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle into his cool chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder with a sigh. “I suppose that’s true.”
Harry lets his jeweled fingers trace down her back, drawing random shapes on the damp skin as her breathing begins to even out. “Did you like it?” He asks curiously, a seed of worry planted within the words. “Having someone watch you?”
“I liked having you watch me.” Y/N clarifies her answer as if it were the most natural and easily explainable thing in the world. “Did you like watching?”
Harry giggles again, almost incredulous as he nods his head at the damp spot on his boxers, a symptom of the copious amounts of precum that had leaked from him. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious, Watson.  I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself has to ask.” 
“Asking questions is never a bad thing, Holmes.  I’m surprised someone as distinguished as yourself doesn’t know that.” The girl counters, delighting in the small laugh that shakes Harry’s shoulders.  A laugh falls from her lips as well, followed quickly by a yawn that she unsuccessfully tries to stifle. 
“Tired?” Harry murmurs, his fingers still keeping a steady pace against her back. “It’s only the late afternoon— not exactly late enough for bedtime, is it?”
Y/N sighs into his musky skin, relaxing completely against Harry’s body. “Not exactly, no.  But I think a little post-orgasm nap may be in order.” She raises her head from the crook of Harry’s neck, looking at him with soft eyes. “Will you stay?”
If Harry’s heart could beat, the tender question would make his rhythm irregular, and the knowledge of that fact dries out the venom that had been flowing freely through Harry’s mouth. “Wow.” He tries to disguise the reaction with a laugh. “Our first date, and you’re already asking me to sleep over?  What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Shut up.” The mortal nudges her forehead against his shoulder in a playful manner. “I’m serious.  Will you?  I sleep a lot better when you’re here.” 
The confession falls from her lips as easily as a sigh, but her words lock Harry’s chest in a tight chain, restricting his every breath.  And yet… the pressure is comforting, like a hug from someone you haven’t seen in years and you’ve sorely missed. 
“Alright, yeah.” He whispers gently, caressing Y/N’s mussed hair without tugging on any tangles. “I’ll stay.  We can order some dinner later, if you want.”
Y/N’s voice is already far away when she replies. “That sounds nice.” She whispers, her eyes fluttering closed as her full weight falls against Harry.  Within a few minutes, her breathing has leveled completely in time with her steady heart beat, which thunders against Harry’s own silent chest. 
The vampire sighs as he shifts on the bed, keeping Y/N locked in place against his body as he does so.  How did he end up here, in her bed, staring at that fucking tapestry again?  How did he end up agreeing to stay over, to grab dinner with her after she sleeps?  How does he know that, if she asks again, he’ll stay over tonight as well, even if it means lying still in bed and counting her heart beats until the sun rises through her curtains? 
And why does that sound so appealing?
Carefully, so as not to wake her, Harry shifts Y/N onto her own pillow, removing her from his chest with gentle movements.  Once he’s arranged her in a comfortable position and made sure that she’s still asleep, he cages himself over her, brushing her hair back from her face and inhaling deeply.  This is why, he thinks.  This is why he’s agreed to all of these dates, to holding her as she sleeps, to spending night after night in this tiny human apartment.  Her blood. 
Harry nudges his nose along the length of her throat, breathing in her fragrance as if it were the bouquet of a fine wine.  Her signature honey and lavender scent is as prominent as ever, only amplified by the orgasm-triggered endorphins that are still swimming through her veins.  Letting his lips drag over her fragile skin, Harry smudges kisses along the base of her throat with a light touch, searching for the most tender part that he’s come to adore.  When he reaches the mark just above her carotid artery, he presses a firmer kiss to the skin, admiring how the mortal’s breath floats from her lips in her sleep.  Still, he pauses for a moment to make sure that the sound is just that, a symptom of sleep, and once his suspicions are confirmed, Harry sinks his teeth into Y/N’s satin skin. 
As usual, the relief is instantaneous.  The warm blood that flows into his mouth quells the dry, burning ache in the back of his throat like nothing else, and Harry clutches the girl closer to him as he drinks more and more.  She’s just as sweet as she smells, and there’s that familiar depth of flavour to her that Harry can never quite place a finger on.  Perhaps he could if he spent more time analyzing it, but it’s never too long before he loses himself in her taste, and all rational thought goes out the window completely.  In the reflection of her mirror, Harry can see that his eyes are blood red and black-veined, and that he looks every bit the monster that he actually is.  If Y/N were to wake up right now and see him like this—pale skin, black veins, mouth stained red with her blood—she’d probably scream in horror, and do her best to shove the supernatural creature away.  She would be thoroughly repulsed, Harry is sure.  And, honestly, he couldn’t blame her.  He remembers the first time he saw the red of a vampire’s eyes, and the terror that had seized his entire body like an icy dip in the English Channel.  It would only be a natural response. 
Harry had come to terms with what he is a very long time ago, and though it took a lot of trial and error, a lot of sleepless nights doused with self-loathing and denial, and a plethora of blurry memories full of strangers’ veins bulging under soft skin and glassy eyes dulled by compulsion, he is in a place in his eternal life where his identity doesn’t phase his peace of mind anymore. He hadn’t become a monster willingly, and he certainly doesn’t enjoy having to do the unspeakable acts required for his survival— not consciously, anyways. 
From an instinct-driven perspective, he does enjoy the taste of blood, but it’s only because his supernatural carnal impulses demand it. Ethically, he isn’t proud of his affinity, but it’s not like he has any say in the matter. This isn’t his fault— he was forced to become what he is— and that moral claim is what has kept him tethered to his last few shreds of humanity for the past twenty decades. He’s not doing this to Y/N out of malicious intent, he’s doing it because he has no other choice. Therefore, he assures himself that the traces of guilt tightening his chest at the moment are completely misled and invalid. He hasn’t felt guilt much before— not for years— and he refuses to let it plague him once again. This is just the way things are. This is just the way things have to be. 
So why does he feel so fucking shitty right now?
Pushing the discomforting dwellings to the back of his mind, Harry continues to drink from Y/N, using his final remaining strains of functioning thought to monitor the human’s heart beat and breaths.  When his thirst is satiated enough, and before either one of those human traits begins to falter, Harry releases his bite on Y/N’s neck, licking over the wound with relish to temporarily seal it.  He turns to check his reflection in the mirror again, and finds that, yes, his suspicions are confirmed.  Although he’s managed to keep himself halfway presentable, there’s still a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, and his lips are stained a dark merlot colour from the sweet substance.  Harry swipes his tongue along his mouth, cleaning up any evidence of his late afternoon snack, before bringing his index finger to his mouth and pricking the tip on one of his fangs.  Then, while carefully holding the girl’s jaw open with his other hand, Harry slips his finger into her mouth. It’s practically a ritual by now. 
It takes only a few seconds for the bite mark on her neck to heal completely, leaving behind only a faint purple bruise in its place.  If Y/N were to see it tomorrow, she’d assume it was a half-healed hickey, and wouldn’t bat an eye at it.  She’d have no idea that the real cause of it was—
“Harry…” His name falls from her lips with a quiet stutter, her brow furrowing as if troubled by something the vampire can’t see. “Harry…”
“Y/N?” He whispers in reply, his limbs sealing over with ice as he freezes in place as if he were a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Everything alright, love?”
“Harry…” The human utters his name once more as a frown begins to tug at her pillowy lips, and it takes another moment of her shifting in the bed for Harry to realize that she’s still asleep, and the murmuring of his name is merely a symptom of her dreaming of him. 
Oh.  She’s dreaming of him. 
There’s a spark of something in his chest—happiness?  Excitement?— but it’s quickly extinguished by the realization that, if Y/N is dreaming of him, her body language is making it clear that the dream isn’t a pleasant one. 
Harry releases a frustrated sigh as he sinks back down into the sheets.  That’s to be expected, really.  After all, he did just feed from her; if she’s having a bad dream about him, it would only be logical. 
Still, the sight of her shifting in bed with a distressed look on her face pulls an equally distressed look from the immortal, and he only hesitates for a moment before carefully maneuvering the girl back onto his chest, positioning her so that he can easily rub her warm back with his cool hands.  
“You’re alright.” He murmurs softly into her ear, his voice low and melodic despite no one being around to hear it. “You’re fine, sweetheart. I’m here, hm? Go back to sleep.”
It takes a few more minutes of back rubbing, whispering, and a handful of strategically placed forehead kisses, but Y/N’s face finally relaxes as she falls back into a deep, untroubled slumber against Harry’s chest.  As her breathing evens out again, Harry breathes a gentle exhale of relief.  That was a close call.  The next time he feeds, he’ll have to make sure she’s truly unconscious, and has been so for a while.  Her bad dream, whatever it was, had probably been caused by him digging into her prematurely.  Next time, he’ll wait until the dead of night, when she’s deep in REM sleep.  She’ll be more comfortable then. 
Which reminds him— he has plans he has to cancel tonight, and the sleeping girl on his chest mixed with his phone being in his trouser pocket on the floor make a difficult combo to surpass. 
Despite the testing task, Harry manages to retrieve his phone from his discarded linen pants after a few minutes of awkward stretching, some light grunting, and a few curse words, but he manages to do it without waking Y/N up (she moves a couple of times, but a few soft words and tender hushing Harry’s behalf sends her right back into her dreams).  With one hand still wrapped around her back, Harry manages to type out a quick message to Niall. 
Won’t be able to make it tonight— something came up with Y/N.  Have fun at the bar. 
Harry references her by name, knowing that Mitch had probably already blabbed to their entire friend group about the date he’d had, and about how a human girl had recently become the target of his fascination. Juicy gossip is indisputably one of the aspects that keeps eternity from growing stale, and the vampire’s crew believe that to be so more than anyone. There’s not a single doubt in his mind they’d eaten every word up, and that he’d probably get drilled on it later.
He keeps his phone clutched in his hand, waiting for a (sure to be ridiculing) reply from Niall that comes a few minutes later. 
The girl from last time? Jesus, again?  Weren’t you meeting her for brunch?
A small smirk tugs at the corner of Harry’s lip. I did meet her for brunch.  And then I met her back at her apartment, and I’ll probably be meeting her again later after we get some dinner.  Don’t wait up.
After that text, Harry drops his phone on the bedside table, expecting Niall to just leave him on read in a fit of annoyance.  He’s surprised, however, to hear the quiet vibration of his phone a moment later, and picks it up to skim the message with pressing curiosity. 
You’re a fucking incubus, you know that?
The smirk on Harry’s swollen lips suddenly drops.  
While it’s not the first time he’s been called an incubus, it is the first time the label has ever bothered him. Why is that?  It’s not like it’s untrue; he frequently seduces various people, many of them being women, in order to sleep with them and drink their blood. That’s what an incubus does.  The label shouldn’t pester him.  In fact, it should boost his ego. 
But the title being applied to his relationship with Y/N… that gives him pause. It reminds him of a certain person— a certain disgrace, if he’s being pettily honest— who he had sworn never to think about again, out of respect for his sanity and emotional stability. It reminds him of how when he himself was mortal, he was under similar circumstances to what Y/N is under right now— he was a human blood bag to a vampire who took pleasure in his body. 
This is different, Harry tells himself.  I’m not going to ruin her life. She’s not going to end up like me. And we have an understanding, which I never got to have. This isn’t the same. I’m...I’m not the same.
In his steadfast opinion, the immortal isn’t an incubus when it comes to Y/N and it’s that simple, point blank. Saying he is… that sets the implication that he could be doing this with anyone, and that’s just not true.  Even though he’s keeping Y/N around as a convenient fuck with delicious blood, he wouldn’t go to this much trouble for anyone else; no one else is worth it.  No one else has her honey and lavender scent, or contagious laugh, or can match him so easily in banter without flinching or blinking an eye.  And though he’s too attached to his own pride— to the inherent coldness and indifference he’d worked so hard to build over the last two centuries— to let her know, he’ll admit that there’s no one else like her. There’s no one who’s company he enjoys quite the same. 
Harry doesn’t indulge Niall with a response, simply closing his phone and setting it back on the bedside table.  His friend can think what he wants, Harry decides, returning his attention to tracing figures on Y/N’s back.  Harry knows what this really is.  He knows, and it’s not some evil plan to permanently damage her. It’s just a simple loose relationship between two people who float an inch above the friendzone. That’s all. 
Friends, just slightly more. 
1K notes · View notes
tanzaniiite · 4 years
Note
can i request the trend of tiktok “the faster you get to me the more kisses you get!” with tsukishima, akaashi, bokuto and hinata? 🥺👉👈
“THE FASTER YOU GET TO ME, THE MORE KISSES YOU GET” TREND
w/ tsukishima, akaashi, bokuto, hinata & iwaizumi
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requests: OPEN
warnings: talk of pee and poop in iwaizumi’s
a/n: of course you can! thanks for the request! 💓 (also the trend is used more as a prompt than it is as the main focus whoops 🤡)
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i added iwaizumi bc he was requested in another ask so i just merged the two. my character limit is still four max!
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who gave him the right 🥵
the salt lick himself
this dude is annoyingggg
you already knew what his reaction was gonna be,, so why bother?
welll you just wanted to be like all the other tiktok girls 👉🏽👈🏽
you wait until you see tsukki and yama walking out of the club room and towards you
you’re bracing yourself for the embarrassment
“babe! the faster you get to me, the more kisses you get!”
no shit, he stops in his tracks. yama’s just looking at him like ‘what you finna do?’
you know what he does? turns around and starts walking in THE OTHER DIRECTION
you are… baffled
when finally catch up to him, you’re pouting
“dude, what the hell?”
he glances at you, then flicks your forehead dummy hard
you’re triggered, “did you just flick me?”
this snarky mf is now laughing at you
btw yamaguchi is very uncomfortable rn
tsukishima the leans down, bean pole headass, and kisses your forehead
“sorry i don’t do dumb tik tok trends”
“it’s not dumb! you just didn’t want to kiss me”
he looks at you with an unimpressed look, as if saying, ‘we both know that’s not true’
alas you’re still pouting
yama: “haha this is me, see you guys tmmr” *leaves in awkward*
tsukishima knows your not gonna stop acting like a baby until he gives you what you want
he sighs, walks a couple feet away from you, pulls out his phone and starts recording
“say the thing”
“huh?”
“the trend thing. say it”
your eyes light up so much and tsukki smiles a bit
he’s so soft for you uwu
“the faster you get to me, the more kisses you get!”
because he’s a tall boi, it only takes him a few steps to get to you but when he does, he kisses you hard
like damn, okay sir
when he pulls away you’re flustered asf, he chuckles and stops recording
“happy?”
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this poor boy wouldn’t know a tiktok trend if it punched him the face
i hate to say it, but he’s a boomer 😔🤘🏽 just like dadchi
he’s at your house picking you up for a date and your sibling is bombarding him with questions
when you come out, akaashi is like ‘oh thank goodness’
you smile at him, then wack your sibling in their side
“stop bothering him you weirdo!”
“what we’re just having a nice lil chat”
you shake your head and start to walk away but your sibling is holding akaashi back, giving him the typical ‘you hurt her, i kill you’ speech
now you know your boyfriend is great when he’s under pressure but.. this is new territory for him
you remember a trend that you saw a while back and decide to do it now
you know keiji wants your family to like him, so he’ll be conflicted between going to you or staying and listening to your siblings speech
it’s perfect really
so you pull out your phone and start recording
“baby! the faster you get to me, the sooner we can go on our date and the more kisses you’ll get”
my guy just blinks, “it is getting late..”. plus he’s not opposed to the kissing part so he starts to walk towards you
“hey! i’m not done talking to you”
‘that’s true, it would be rude of me to walk away mid conversation… if you could even call it that’ he thinks
you laugh slightly, you can practically see the gears spinning in his head
“keiji come on we don’t have all day”
“don’t you walk away from me”
akaashi sighs loudly. the longer he spends talking to your sibling the less time he has with you. if he walks away, he’s at risk of your sibling hating him. he’s stumped.
suddenly he turns to your sibling, “sorry l/n, we can continue this discussion later. y/n and i have a date that’s very time sensitive. i apologize”
he then walks to you and grabs your hand before walking off
“y’know my crackhead sibling was just mess with you right? you could’ve just walked away”
“i figured, but that’s still rude”
ugh we stan boy who has manners
“so.. um, may i get a kiss now?”
omg he’s so cute i love him 🥺
you grin and pepper his face with a bunch of kisses, making him blush slightly
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tbh you don’t even need to ask, this dude is infatuated w/ you
he’ll run to you any day of the week
but what had happened was.. y’all were on a date and bokuto went to go get ice cream
but that was like 15 mins ago and you’re just sitting on the park bench looking like a fool
and ngl you were a little worried bc bokuto is so easy to distract you’re thinking he fell into a pond or something
so you go to look for him and tbh it doesn’t take long cause cmon,, it’s bokuto
he be loud asf
n e ways, there he is in all his glory playing with a German Shepard who looked like it was trying so hard not to bite him
the owner looked nervous asf but was probably too nervous to say something social anixety be like that
bokuto spots you and waves at you frantically
“hey babe! look at this dog! it’s so cute!”
ugh bless him
you send the owner an apologetic look and turn back to bokuto
“it is cute but i think you’re aggravating it.. i don’t want you to get bitten. let’s go”
“it won’t bite me!” *to dog* “right? you’re too good to bite me, yes you are, yes you are”
*inhales* this stubborn kid, so now you got to think of a new tactic
you suddenly remember that bokuto is affectionate x1 mil
he would never miss a chance to be smothered in love
this was as good a time as any to do this trend and save your bf in the process :))
you whip out your phone, “hey baby? the faster you get to me, the more kisses you get”
when i tell you his head SWIVELED
the dude is an owl confirmed 🙌🏽
literally almost trips trying to get to you, now he’s looking at you like an excited puppy ready for pats
the owner gives you thankful look and leaves
bokuto is still staring at you, waiting for his smooches
so you deliver 😌 you grab his face and kiss all around and place a final kiss on his lips
bokuto looks so happy, like he’s smiling so wide rn
all hail tiktok it rly be saving your stupid boyfriend
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my bby 🥺
he loves you so so so so much
hinata will do anything for you yes anything
and the feeling is mutual, but sometimes you cannot comprehend what goes on in that mind if his
like,, you could not, for the life of you, understand why he ran into MOVING TRAFFIC
let me tell you what happened
so you were shopping with your friends (and just to clarify y’all were a strip where there’s a bunch of stores on each block)
you guys were just casual walking and then your friend pointed out that it sounded like someone was calling your name
you looked around and there was your orange fuzzy bouncing up and down on the other side of the street
“BABY! BABE! Y/N! LOOK!”
too cute i swear
you smiled and waved, “hi baby!”
“wait until i get across this street imma kiss you so hard!”
cue your friends gagging
you giggle and decide to reference a tiktok cause why not?
“the faster you get to me, the more kisses you can get!”
b-but he thought you were serious
so yes he ran into the middle of a busy street
you are traumatized, paralyzed with fear if you will, you thought your boyfriend was going to die right in front of you
when he finally reached you, you scolded him mother hen mode activated
“why the hell would you do that hinata?!”
uh oh, you used his last name.. not good
“but you said–”
“i was joking!”
oh. now he’s embarrassed and sad bc you’re mad at him
at least he thought you were until you grabbed him and hugged him tightly, “don’t ever do any dumb shit like that again, okay? you scared me”
“i won’t,, but since i did risk my life, can i get a kiss?”
“NO.”
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i feel like y’all have a relationship where you guys can be mean(?) to each other w/o getting offended
so you guys are at your house watching Netflix together and he suddenly gets up and leaves your room
“where are you going?”
“gotta piss”
istg i hate the word “piss” but IK he says that instead of “pee”
n e ways you resume watching the show but your bf’s been gone for like 10 mins
you go to the bathroom and knock on the door, “hey, you good in there? it doesn’t take 10 minutes to pee”
you hear him groan, “fuck off”
and then,, it all clicks, “are you constipated?!”
“FUCK OFF”
now you’re laughing your ass of bc what the fuck
“don’t clog my toilet nasty”
“y/n i swear to god if you don’t leave me alone–”
“what? are you gonna fling your doo doo on me?”
you finally stop teasing him and go back to your room
you send him a text, ‘still constipated? 💩’
‘breaking up w/ you is looking mighty tempting rn 🥴’
‘rude 🤧 but hey, the faster you poop, the more kisses you get’
this dude left you on read
and didn’t return until 20 mins later
“damn i know my bathroom stinks now”
“shut up and give me my kisses”
you raise an eyebrow, “i– you took 20 mins”
“okay.. did you want me to get up mid shit and come to you?”
you don’t why but that shit had you cackling, you reach up and pull him close to you
you give him a couple of pecks and a deep kiss
aww he’s smiling 🥺
“i love you my lil doo doo machine”
he pushed you off your bed
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tanzaniiite © 2020 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.
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3K notes · View notes
hualianff · 3 years
Text
More Than This
Modern AU where famous actor HC and landscaper XL meet through a dating app. HC had a reputation of being a massive flirt who bedded people left and right, which wasn’t completely wrong–just blown out of proportion. His partners were usually other celebrities who mutually swore to keep their mouths shut in the preservation of their own images.
When HC received a message on the dating app asking about the brand of the wristwatch he wore in his profile pic (which only showcased his hands), the other user hoping to purchase a cheaper, similar style for his friend’s birthday, HC responded for the first time since downloading the app.
What could he say? The other man was gorgeous and if he were simply asking just to slide into HC’s DMs, the actor wasn’t opposed.
Turns out XL asked out of genuine curiosity. FX’s birthday was still a month away. Why XL thought about gifting him a watch similar to the one the stranger wore when XL should’ve been paying attention to the sheer strength those large hands seemed to possess was beyond him.
The name in the bio read: San Lang. The few pictures that were displayed on his profile were minimalistic yet downright sexy. XL blinked in wonder as he typed out another message, hoping to continue the conversation.
Two weeks after chatting back and forth through the app, XL asked if he could meet HC in person. The actor pondered this for a grand total of thirty seconds before agreeing to meet. XL seemed like a sincere character, someone who put other peoples’ comfort above any task at hand–if his emoticon overkill and frequent check-ins with HC were anything to go by.
HC figured he’d cross the bridge once XL recognized him as a well-loved actor starring in the hottest films in the media.
Except when HC arrived in his expensive jeep that screamed wealth, dressed in appropriate clothes for a hike with a baseball cap concealing his features from far away, XL did not have an aha! moment.
“Hello, San Lang! It’s me, Xie Lian,” XL waved as he bounced his way over. “I hope the ride up the mountain wasn’t too scary. You get used to it once you begin visiting more often. Thank you for meeting with me today.”
“It’s no problem at all. Nice to meet you, Xie Lian,” HC greets, guiding them away from his car as soon as he locks the doors, not wanting to draw any onlookers’ attention.
XL gives him a kind smile, adjusting the clasp of his bamboo hat. He explains that there are three main trails and he was thinking they could take the medium-level route. Judging from his white work-out T, jean shorts, and hiking boots, HC deduces that XL spends much time outside, even when he’s not gardening for his clients.
“Lead the way, Gege,” HC says, the title naturally falling from his lips. In XL’s dating profile, his age read thirty-two, just under three years older than HC. (This was followed by a dozen tree, flower, and water emoticons.)
“Okay! Onwards.”
Following their initial meeting, HC met up with XL numerous times after, attracted to XL’s mellow and eccentric personality. Whenever it was XL’s turn to plan their time together, he brought HC to different places each time. National parks, plant nurseries, museums–places that could be considered unconventional compared to the standard meetups from dating apps.
HC’s fondness for XL only grew because of this.
Their chemistry flourished in the bedroom as well, both HC and XL eager for giving and receiving pleasure. In addition to being fuckbuddies, they quickly developed a wholesome friendship that HC never saw coming.
But then again, this was XL. Once HC got a taste, his infatuation with the landscaper shouldn’t be surprising. HC stopped seeing his other speed dials after he met XL.
One of their nights ended by watching a film, XL mentioning off-handedly how he doesn't keep up with pop culture–including popular films–but his friend SQX had begged XL to watch this one. Of course, this had to be a film HC was in, one of his most recent projects. There was no avoiding the impending reveal.
They sit side-by-side on XL’s lumpy couch, watching the movie when XL gasps as the antagonist comes into view.
That is his San Lang! On the screen!
When XL pokes HC on the bicep, asking why the actor hadn’t told him, HC simply says that “My fame isn’t important to who I am.”
To HC’s surprise, XL accepts the answer without protest, nodding.
“San Lang is San Lang, who happens to be a marvelous actor,” XL solemnly says, flashing HC a delighted smile. HC hums in content, subtly repositioning his arm so it rested on the back of the couch, curling around XL’s shoulders.
Except after the movie ended and a google search later, XL finds out that San Lang isn’t San Lang after all.
“Should I call you Hua Cheng from now on? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’ve been calling you the wrong name for three months now-” XL rushes out, guilt painted across his face.
“Gege, it’s fine. I used it as an alias for my profile to protect my identity,” HC explains. He reaches forward to tuck a long strand of XL’s hair behind his ear. “Besides, I quite like it when you call me San Lang.”
“Really?” XL sheepishly asks.
“Really.”
From that moment on, HC and XL clicked perfectly, learning more about each other when time permitted them to meet up. XL felt a little foolish for not knowing who HC was as a celebrity. But like HC said, his fame did not define him as a person, which XL clearly saw from the playful way he held himself when there were no cameras around.
HC matched XL’s enthusiasm in whatever activity they were doing, even if it was something XL’s previous partners couldn’t care less about. Eight months into their arrangement, XL finally admitted to himself that he had deep feelings for HC.
While they had great chemistry as friends, XL selfishly wanted more.
But how could XL ask for something more? They already agreed to keep things casual, to remain as friends who used each other to release their sexual urges. It didn’t matter how delicate HC cleaned XL up or always ran him a bath after their climaxes. It didn’t matter how HC always set out his clothes for XL to stay the night. And it didn’t matter how close HC held onto him as they slept.
XL was simply a landscaper with a passion for nature and helping others. He wasn’t built for the limelight. He was barely in the loop with societal trends, and only recently began watching the latest movies with HC–many of which HC himself acted in.
Frankly speaking, HC could have anyone he wanted. XL was the one who should be grateful HC even sought him out a second time.
XL is thirty-three now. He wanted to find someone to settle down with, to spend the rest of his life with, falling deeper in love with every single day. He was not sure HC, who was just entering his thirties and continuing to make a name for himself, would want something like that with someone like XL.
Even when every one of HC’s actions alluded that he truly cared for XL, XL had learned that hope was a dangerous thing to mindlessly cling to. XL has had past partners come into his life, then leave him like he was nothing, like none of him was worth staying for. XL didn’t think he could bear it if HC became just another name on that list.
Furthermore, XL didn’t want to put HC or his career on spot, nor put his heart in a position where it was bound to be broken.
As XL grappled with his perceived one-sided feelings, HC only allowed himself to yearn when laying on the bed in his penthouse. It was much larger than XL’s bed. It was also much lonelier.
HC was unable to grant XL the verbal confirmation of where they stood, held back by the weight of his status, which had always been his selling point alongside his hypersexualized image. Not only did HC not want to risk pressuring XL into pursuing a relationship with a celebrity, but somewhere deep inside, HC didn’t believe XL could want him for who he is–even after the year and a half they’ve known each other.
Much of HC’s self-worth had come from his accomplishments as an actor, untouchable yet fantasized by the public. Peeling back all the layers he hid behind, HC saw his true self as too ugly, damaged, and undesirable; phrases many people in his past have spat to his face, including his parents.
In HC’s mind, he had already tied XL down to their routine no-strings-attached meet-ups. While HC savored every moment he spent with XL, he didn’t want to further intrude on XL’s simple life and have the other man resent him in the end.
《II》
(Thanks to @no-one-says-hi for helping)
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fandomficsnstuff · 3 years
Text
Healer - Part 16
Ivar x Modern!Reader
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(Warnings: I don’t know anyone with OI, I looked all this up so I hope that’s okay. Also fighting and the death of a certain someone who was a certain bitch and certainly had it coming *cough Freydís cough*)
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You were walking next to Hilda, hand on the tiniest bump on your stomach as you were looking at the different things for sale “so when will you visit them?” you asked, looking back at Hilda as she shrugged “soon, I expect, I will be there for a while too, I’m taking Estrid with me as well” she said and you ground out loud “no! I love her” you said with a whine and Hilda smirked “I know, but she was just a baby when she last saw her grandparents, she wants to meet them” she informed and you nodded “makes sense” you mumbled, looking at a necklace before moving on. Your eyes caught a certain blonde hair, following it to see the face you thought you’d never see again, and she was staring right at you with that fake polite smile, pulling up her hood and moving into the crowd. You moved after her before you lost her figure “find Ivar, tell him Freydís is here!” you said and Hilda nodded and ran off while your feet picked up the pace, following after the figure of the woman that also picked up the pace. Luckily, people parted for you, but soon you lost her, stopping in an empty street and looking around with a frown, head turning frantically as you tried to catch her figure but nothing, you didn’t see any trace of her. Suddenly you heard a horn blow on the other side of the walls, making ou frown as your hands clutched your stomach, your feet automatically moving backwards, eventually turning you and carrying you faster towards the Great Hall, the sounds of fighting taking over all your senses, prompting you to run into Hilda, letting out a scream at first but when you see that it’s her you hug her tightly “Ivar? Where is Ivar?” you asked, Hilda frowning “at the wall but he-” she couldn’t even finish before you ran towards him, your feet carrying you as fast as possible, just in time to see Björn through the wall, your eyes locking before he ran after Ivar shot an arrow at him.
“Ivar!” you shouted, Ivar turning with wide eyes, watching as you stormed towards him, almost angry, but in the end you hugged him tightly, Ivar hesitantly hugging you back before giving it his all, as he always did. “You’re alive… thank the Gods” you whispered, Ivar smirking as he had never heard you mention the Gods in that way, praising them, thanking them. He knew you didn’t believe in them, not the way they did anyway, so to hear you say that out of instinct made him feel proud of you. He parted from you and kissed you, his men cheering him on as you kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck, only parting from him when you both needed air. Ivar’s hand found your stomach and he couldn’t help but glance down at it, a soft smile on his lips before he looked back up at you “come, let us celebrate a victory!” he said and the men and women cheered as you all moved to the Great Hall.
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You groaned as the horns began to blow next morning, trying to block it out with the pillows but when it didn’t work you dropped them and rolled over to Ivar instead, trying to put your arm around him only to have him push it off gently “I don't even think they need me to defend Kattegat” he groaned and you hummed low, eyes still closed “it’s good for them to see you. If the king will not fight for them, why should they fight for him?” you philosophised, Ivar scoffing at it “you seem smarter the more tired you are” he joked as he sat up and grabbed the handle that allowed him to sit up while using his other hand to swing his legs over the edge of the bed “mhm… it’s little Ragnar I bet” you mumbled, Ivar smirking at you over his shoulder, scoffing. At the moment you were trying out different names, apparently today started with Ragnar, his father’s name. The thought that you’d name your child after a man you had never met, based on Ivar’s opinion of him, warmed his heart to it’s core. “No? Didn’t sound right either” you mumbled sleepily, eventually sitting up and opening your eyes, kissing Ivar’s shoulder, about to get up and help him dress when he stopped you “what are you doing?” he asked and you frowned “uh, getting up?” you asked, Ivar shaking his head “no, you and Ulf need rest” Ivar said and you narrowed your eyes at him “Ulf?” you asked and Ivar smirked at you “it means wolf” he said with a shrug and you nodded with a smirk, happy that you had gotten him on the same trend you had been on for weeks now.
You kissed his cheek and sighed “won’t argue with that” you mumbled and rolled over in the bed, getting further under the furs as Ivar finished getting dressed “when you’re done come back, okay?” you asked through a yawn, Ivar scoffing and leaning over, kissing your bare shoulder in response before leaving.
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You woke up some time later, the sound of battle waking you up, already instilling some anxiety in you, the feeling as though someone was watching you only adding to that anxiety. You sat up and looked around with a frown, getting out of bed and pulling on some quick clothes before looking around the room again, that gnawing feeling of being watched a constant in you. You were about to leave the room when a woman with a hood and cloak appeared, smiling as she removed the hood, revealing herself to be none other than that blonde bitch. “I knew I saw you” you said through gritted teeth, the fighting outside growing louder, making you unconsciously clutch your stomach that was already starting to show, just the tiniest bit, barely noticeable, but you had noticed, and so had Ivar, much to his joy. You took a step back as Freydís took a step forward, that smug smirk on her lips as she was unbothered by the fighting outside. You glanced at the door behind her as you took another step back while Freydís took another one forward. Your eyes darted to the door behind you and in an instant you felt a stinging pain in your cheek as you hit the floor, turning your head to see Freydís smiling down at you after having slapped you. “Why are you doing this?! Because I sent you away?!” you snapped and Freydís scoffed “I should have been Queen! Not you! Queen of Kattegat!” she cursed and you nearly bit her head off “that’s it?! What about Ivar, hm? You’d just fake loving him?!” you snapped, Freydís chuckling that ‘mean girls’ chuckle “aren’t you?” she snapped back and before she could blink you tackled her “you sick bitch! I love him!” you yelled and grabbed her hair, slamming it into the ground and getting up, running towards the door but she caught your ankle, making you fall and hit your head on the floor, your vision becoming blurry, your eyes almost shutting until you heard it. *Click* *drag*. You rolled over and crawled towards him, feeling his leg by your hand. You looked up, dazed, unaware of your nose bleeding.
Ivar looked down at you, helping you up and then glaring at Freydís, pure fire in his eyes as he made sure you were leaning against the doorway before glaring at the woman who had not only led the forces into Kattegat but tried to kill his wife and unborn child. Freydís paled at the realisation that he hadn’t just heard everything but that he did, in fact, love you as you loved him, none of it was faked. She were about to open her bitch mouth to try and worm her way out of this when suddenly Ivar grabbed her by her throat, falling on his back while he had a wire around Freydís throat, her feet kicking as Ivar strangled her while you watched, no remorse in your eyes as you put a hand over your tiny bump, gently using your thumb to stroke it over. Ivar only let go a few seconds after she had stopped moving completely, turning to you as he got up with a groan, limping over to you and cupping your cheek, looking worried at your broken nose. “I’m fine” you assured him just as some guards burst in “we have to leave, my lord, my queen, now!” he informed and you both nodded, hurrying along with the guard who led the two of you to the secret escape route, killing one of the other soldiers who had seen the way you both escaped before following.
You winced as you hurriedly put on the fur coat while Ivar put on his disguise. You used some coal to darken your hair as much as possible, it didn’t matter it’s previous color, you could wash it out once you were all safe. You got up on the cart by Ivar’s side as he made sure he had his hidden knife, his eyes falling to you next and you noticed that one of them was bloodshot, making you frown as you cupped his cheek, his sad look saying everything you needed to know. He was sorry, he was sorry that you had to be on the run like this, disguised, and he was about to verbalize it when you shook your head “I belong with you, Ivar. Not because some hundred year old man said so, not because the Gods have decided so, but because I love you, and we,” you gently placed one of his hands on your growing stomach “will be just fine” you assured him, Ivar staying silent as he looked away, welcoming you as you leaned against him as the cart began to move, putting whatever of the fur coat you could over his shoulders so you shared it. Your hands absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace Ivar had given you, your wedding ring hanging around it, so you always knew where it was, you never took the necklace off to begin with, so it was always close to your heart.
Soon you were far away from Kattegat, barely able to see it anymore, making you relax somewhat “Balder” you said, raising your head from Ivar’s shoulder to look at him, seeing him look down at you with a soft smile “Balder… like the God?” he asked and you nodded, Ivar smiling softly down at you, raising one of his hands to gently stroke his thumb across your cheekbone, looking down at you lovingly “we have about six more months to decide” you remind him and he smiled softly at you, nodding ever so slightly “we have, yes… you will not give birth to our child in the middle of nowhere, my love, I promise you that” he said, tone serious but eyes soft and you smiled softly at him as he did at you “Ivar, all I need is you to hold my hand and I will be okay” you said and Ivar leaned down, gently kissing you before kissing your forehead, resting his chin on top of your head as you rested it on his shoulder, a hand on your stomach as she glared at nothing in particular, determined to keep his promise, no matter what, no matter who stood in his way, he would not let you give birth in the middle of nowhere with a winter on the way.
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You smiled softly as your hand stroked your stomach, which had grown quite a lot, you surmised you were about 7 months along now. “(Y/N)?” Ivar asked in a soft tone, making you turn and frown at him “yes?” you asked, Ivar hesitating before looking away from you “where you are from… I know you have said there are people who cannot walk but are there people who… are like me?” he asked and you sighed, turning so you could face him more, though it was harder now than a few months ago due to your stomach. “Well… it’s tricky… the way your bones break so easily would point to osteogenesis imperfecta, also called ‘brittle bone disease’” you admitted, Ivar frowning “but?” he looked at you and you sighed “the spinal deformities in the severe forms of OI can lead to reduction in truncal height. Similarly, fractures and bowing of femur and tibia, fractures occurring through the growth plates, and abnormalities of the epiphyses in the severe forms of OI lead to decreased limb length and overall height” you explained, Ivar looking at you like you had three heads, making you sigh “uhm, with ‘brittle bone disease’ there are different… types. Stages, if you will. I’m not sure what exactly you have but since you’re average height, your arms and legs are average length, I suspect some form of type 1. What mostly leads to thinking you have a form of OI to begin with is actually your eyes… I didn’t think of it at first but the blue in your eyes? People with OI have it. It’s called Blue Sclerae” you further explained, Ivar still looking as confused as before. “Your eyes, the blue in the whites of it, and your legs, how easily they break” you explained in simpler terms and Ivar finally nodded “I see” he said and you couldn’t help but scoff “mhm” you said with a smirk, Ivar noticing and rolling his eyes dramatically “I am not clever like you, I do not understand most of what you said!” Ivar exclaimed and you laughed “that’s because you didn’t spend over four years of your life in a work field that used to be dominated by men and so it sometimes still carries the stigma of that around with it. Besides I was barely able to drive when I entered medical school” you said, Ivar just shaking his head at you “crazy woman” he mumbled jokingly and you gently punched his shoulder, causing the two of you to grin like idiots “asshole” you retorded, Ivar only smirking in response.
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@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @istorkyou
@heavenly1927
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sakuric · 3 years
Text
birthday.
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synopsis!it all happened with a cake and some cupcakes.
wc!2.2k
pairing!sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader
a/n!HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML!! have this one shot i wrote.
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the early morning’s sun shone through the thin curtain of your window. you rubbed your eyes awake and stretched your arms over your head, before sliding the curtain to the right side and admiring the sunset. the way all the hues– orange, yellow, pink –mixed together reminded you of the way sakusa’s face would blush when you called him pet-names.
sakusa loved pet-names, and that was a thing no one knew about him, except for you. kiyoomi classified you as someone he could always trust, so he told you about his day first thing when he got back. you're his walking diary, and you didn't mind it.
he told you jokes that atsumu told him, he’d tell you about the way his favourite chemicals work, he’d show you a new way to spike or ask you to help him exercise his wrists.
you blasted your favourite songs, from the playlist you and kiyoomi created, while getting ready. today was a saturday, the least busy day of your week, so you decided to just roam the streets of tokyo and try to find something to spend your time on.
sakusa, on the other hand, was tracking how much his heartbeat rises whenever he looks at you. he had pictures of you, and himself, in a special folder in his phone, and choosing one of the pictures, he looked down at the fitbit on his wrist and saw his heartbeat rise.
he, also, decided to play some music while still thinking of you. he had a separate playlist on another music app (so you couldn't see it), and it was all songs that reminded him of you. the current song playing was yellow by coldplay. he knew that the song had a meaning, and he knew he had to find his own yellow, or soulmate as people like to say, yet he thought it’d be obsessive if he called you his soulmate. for that exact reason, he hid the playlist in another app, moved all the pictures with you into the hidden part of his gallery and tried to shake off any thoughts about you.
his fingers tapped the screen of his phone as he dialed your phone number, which he had memorised, before hovering his finger over the green ‘call’ button. what if you're busy? he wouldn't want to disturb your day, neither would he want to be annoying. he went over all the possible what if’s, and by the time he gathered the courage, you had facetimed him instead.
“hey, omi-omi,” you huffed, your breath creating warm fumes in the cold air. god, how he loved when you called him that; even if atsumu came up with the nickname, you saying it was a whole different feeling. if atsumu continued calling him that, he’d make a disgusted face and swat him away, however, when ‘omi-omi’ leaves your lips, his heart does a double backflip and lands into a split. he feels delighted and bright inside.
“hey, y/n.” he answered, checking his fitbit and seeing his heartbeat spike up higher than before. he hid that hand in his pocket as he started strutting around his living room while talking to you. you offered to meet up and spend the day together, as neither of you had any plans and were incredibly bored. (and it was also his birthday, which he thought you forgot about.)
“uh,” sakusa hesitated, calculating everything that could go wrong if he said yes, but then imagining you get upset if he said no. “..sure. let me get ready and i’ll meet you there.”
“yay!” you exclaimed, before blowing a kiss at him and ending the call. sakusa sighed, placing the phone in his pocket and getting ready to go out.
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“omi!!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down and wrapped his around your waist, pulling you into a warm and tight hug. sakusa pulled away after inhaling enough of your smell. (he didn't want to be weird, but he likes the perfume you use and how you overall smell.)
“let’s go to that café we always go to,” you smiled at him as you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the café. sakusa hated crowded places, you knew that, but he had given you consent to bring him anywhere as long as you're there with him.
he feels safe when you’re around him; you're like a walking home to him. he always feels comfortable, the way you’d feel sitting by a fireplace on a cold, winter morning. his hands don't feel weird holding yours, and if it was anyone else he’d hide his hands in his pockets, but he appreciated you and felt comfortable enough to, maybe, share some germs with you.
“hey, you okay?” you pouted, seeing sakusa’s eyebrows knitted and his face showing signs of overthinking; for the past few years of knowing sakusa, you picked up on his habits and the way he handled situations. he’d make a certain face when overthinking, secretly pinch the back of his hand when he’s nervous or jog a little faster when he’s excited to see you.
all of this knowledge about your best friend still didn't save you from what was about to come. sakusa gave you a bright smile, a prominent dimple decorating his cheek as he told you, “i’m okay, y/n. let’s go get the coffee and head to go shopping.”
“you..” a mumble left your lips as you placed a hand over your mouth. you were surprised– no, you were smitten. it felt like the whole world stopped and it was just you and him in the café, standing in line and looking at each others eyes. your heartbeat reached the highest of numbers as you felt the sight of sakusa’s dimples engrave his name into your heart.
“i.. what? do i have something on my face?” sakusa quickly put on his mask and hid his face behind the large palms of his hands. he was self-conscious about his own looks, even though he's been trending on social platforms for being one of the most handsome faces.
“no..” you hummed, still amazed by the way you couldn't notice it before. you grabbed his hands and removed them from his face, holding them tightly and saying, “you.. you have a dimple”
“oh, yeah.” sakusa let out a small chuckle. “it came up recently. did you like it?”
“i love it.”
sakusa blushed, but his mask concealed it completely. he motioned for you to go order first, as he ordered after you and you left the café with two coffee’s in both your hands. sakusa offered his hand, which you politely agreed to hold, and you both started walking towards one of the many shops.
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“wait here,” you spoke, giving him a reassuring smile as you left him to sit at the bench outside of the cake shop. you decided to confess today, even though it was his birthday. it’d be like a gift, right? you ordered the cake and waited for it to be done. you saw sakusa doodling something on the small hand sanitizer bottle that he had gotten.
it was a pineapple scented hand sanitizer, one of your favourite scents. you knew he didn't like scented hand sanitizers, so why did he buy it? maybe it’s for a friend, a family member. either way, you smiled at the thought of omi finally finding a pair. he was always so closed off and never wanted to have a s/o, but maybe this change was good. good for both you and him.
what you didn't know, was that he didn't want an s/o, because he had you. he knew that one day, he’d gather enough courage and ask you out, ask you to be his. while waiting for you to get back, he took out the scented hand sanitizer and a pack of sticky notes, along with a pen. he came up with this idea while getting dressed to meet you. he thinks he’s ready.
you came back with a box of cupcakes and a cake box stacked on your hands. sakusa stood up and helped you by taking off the top box. (which, luckily, was only the cake.)
you decided to go back home before giving him the cupcakes. the train ride back was quiet, you both exhausted from walking and talking about nonsense. sakusa’s arm was draped around your shoulders, while the other one held the cake box. you got comfortable and placed your head on his shoulder while closing your eyes.
“don’t fall asleep yet, y/n.” sakusa huffed through his mask. you looked up at him, your eyes forming crescent moons as you smiled. he felt his heart flip and turn, tugging at his chest. his lungs tensed and it felt hard to breathe. “i won't fall asleep, omi-kun.” you grinned, turning your gaze down to where your phone was. you clicked the camera icon in the list of apps and turned it around to face you. sakusa noticed and put up a peace sign as you took a picture. you giggled and accidentally clicked the sound up button, which took a picture of you smiling brightly and sakusa’s eyes forming small crescent moons as he smiled slightly under his mask. the picture was unexpected, but it was one of the best you’ve ever taken.
“omi-kun! look at how pretty you look!” you exclaimed, zooming into his face in the picture. sakusa looked closely, trying to figure out what was ‘pretty’ about him in that picture.
“i don't see it.” sakusa raised a brow, admitting to not knowing how beautiful he was. you sighed, rolling your eyes and looking up at sakusa. “stop saying that, omi-omi. you’re handsome and you know that!” you pouted, which caused sakusa to smile a little. he knew he was handsome, but he enjoyed hearing you call him that.
“do you think i should post this?” you asked, typing out a caption under the said picture. sakusa eyed the caption; on the move with my favourite boy!! @msby.sakusa <3 . sakusa nodded and so you proceeded to hit ‘post’.
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sakusa invited you to go to his house after the trip, which was unusual, because he doesn't prefer people entering his home. you carefully took off your shoes in the corridor and placed them in the right place before entering his home.
the house he had was located in the further east part of tokyo. it didn't have many houses around it, which seemed fitting for sakusa's taste. the interior part of his house was decorated with few paintings and other home decor. one of which caught your eye; it was a picture frame of him and the msby team, another picture frame next to it had you and sakusa in it. you softly ran your finger over sakusa’s face in the picture, smiling to yourself. sakusa quietly observed you from the doorway to his living room. he leaned on the wall, arms crossed on his chest and a small, genuine, smile on his face. you placed the picture down and turned to see sakusa eyeing you. a blush creeped upon your face as you fixed your hair and entered the living room.
“so, uhm..” you started. “i asked you to hang out because it's your birthday and i didn't want you to be alone during such a special day.” sakusa’s heart already melting at what was about to come. “i got you this cake, which you already saw, but i also got you these cupcakes. “ you handed him the box, which he opened. he widened his eyes at the icing on the cupcakes. each of the cupcakes spelled out “i like you.”, which sakusa thought was a dream. he quickly pulled out the sanitizer and note from his back pocket and gave it to you. “i guess both of us had something we wanted to confess…” sakusa spoke as you read the note.
y/n, i like you. be mine?
it was straight-forward, yet it made your heart flutter at such care. you returned your gaze at sakusa, who was still eyeing the cupcakes he had placed on the table. he looked back at you, opening his arms to embrace you in a hug, which you gladly took. pulling him in close, you hoped this moment would never end. his arms embraced you in the warmth of his body as he mumbled something into your hair. only a while after, you realised he kept saying ‘be mine, be mine, be mine’
“i’m yours, kiyoomi.” you answered, looking up at him. his face was painted a light shade of crimson, which you found cute. it was just like the sunset this morning, you thought. sakusa leaned in, hesitating to press his lips on yours. you noticed, and leaned in to save him the struggle.
you both pulled away after a while, both of your faces tinted with blush. sakusa let go of you and went to open the cake box. his heart strings tugged as he read what was written on the cake;
happy birthday, omi-kun ♡︎
and to his diary, kiyoomi spoke; “thank you for the best birthday i’ve ever had, darling.”
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© all work written by sakuric is not to be posted on any other writing app or website without notice. if it is found to be reposted without consent, rightful action will be taken.
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