Feb. 5th, 2017

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The banging starts at three in the afternoon. Hermann looks up, a momentary flash of panic that this is it, they have found him as he is about to be dragged back-

But then it comes again, heavy and dull and throbbing through the structure of the house and no, it is not the hoards of hell come for him. He just has a neighbour who is a bloody arsehole.

Hermann gets up, hobbles up the stairs to the flat above, hammers on the door.

It takes a moment whoever it is making that godawful din to notice. The hammering pauses, Hermann bangs harder.

Finally, there’s a click and Hermann steps back, scowling. The idiot on the other side is dressed in a torn band t-shirt held together by safety pins, incredibly tight black jeans and a pair of sunglasses. Sunglasses. Indoors.

Hermann crosses his arms cross his chest, tries to force his tail still, it’s threatening to pull free and lash in irritation. “I have just moved in downstairs.”

“Oh,” The man hesitates. “Okay, sorry about the noise.”

“Yes.” Hermann says darkly.

“But, dude, it’s like the middle of the afternoon.” He shrugs. “I don’t do it past eight.”

“I work from home.” Hermann frowns. A little taken aback.

“Okay, but- this is my job.” The man crosses his arms, frowning behind his absurd glasses. I’m a drummer dude, I gotta practice.”

“At home?” Hermann snarls, what is going on?


This- should not be happening. Everyone else has been- pliable. He cannot get away from what he is and everyone just all too happy to agree to anything he wants, and feel entitled to any part of his body in return.

This man is just scowling at him, unmoving, unmoved. Hermann takes a breath, then- he swore he’d never do this again, he swore, but he has to know. “I think,” his voice drops, a low, sweet growl, “You will find you can practice all you want somewhere else.”

The wave of allure shimmer like a heat mirage around them, but the man doesn’t even flinch. He just continues to scowl at Hermann- no, not at Hermann, just over his left shoulder.

This man cannot see him.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He shakes his head. “I live here too. I’m playing until eight, you don’t like it, buy earplugs or something.”

The door slams. Hermann stares at it for a moment. Then he goes down and checked the doorbell name. Newt Geiszler.

He has a neighbour who is not affected by him. He has a neighbour who will treat him like a person. Hermann’s isn’t sure how to feel about it.

Particularly when the drumming starts again, thick and heavy and pounding.
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!It’s been a good evening.

Hermann is leaning against him, relaxed and loose limbed and smiling. Newt leans down and rests his nose into the crook of Hermann’s neck. He smells good. Not food-good, he can’t feed off werewolves, but just good, warm and comfortable and sweet.

Hermann whines, deep in his throat, leans heavily against Newt, Newt stumbles and is very glad he can shift Hermann’s weight and find his keys.

“You coming in, babe?” Hermann growls his agreement, smiling vaguely. He stumbles and has to brace himself against the wall.

“Dude,” Newt sighs, and leads Hermann into the living room. “I was really hoping to get laid tonight.”

Hermann flops across the sofa. “With who? He slurs, tries to scowl.

“With you, dipshit.” Newt lips his feet, sits down and sets them on his lap. He starts taking Hermann’s shoes off. “Fuck you and your- being able to get drunk self.”

Hermann waits until he’s gotten his shoes off, and turns around on the sofa so his head is on Newt’s lap. “We can have sex.” He nuzzles the front of Newt’s jeans.

Oh fuck yes. “You’re- really drunk,” He gasps, “That’s not a- good idea.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea.” Hermann noses at the button of his trousers. “Do I need to use my teeth?” He smiles at Newt, even with two weeks to the full moon, they are very sharp.

“Like that makes me want a blow-JOB!” Newt yelps the last as Hermann opens his trousers and takes him down in a long, delicious swallow.

Newt’s head drops back, groans. The fresh, hot blood bursts through him, he’s rock hard, Hermann’s mouth is hot and sweet and he hollows his cheeks, sucking.

“You’ve- done this before.” Newt gasps.

“Hmm,” and oh god Newt could just come now and he has to fight for control so it’s not over too fast.

“I- oh fuck-” And thought basically ends there and Hermann hums again, swallows, works his way down and werewolves must not have a gag reflext because oh god.

He sinks his fingers into Hermann’s hair, scratches across his scalp and yes yes yes. Hermann bobs up and down, tongue rasping over him, long and lingering, then down again, swallows, once, twice, and Newt comes hot and desperate and so very alive into his mouth.

Hermann gags, and sits up, hand coming up to cover his mouth and oh- oh right.

“Um.” Newt tries to pull his brain back together. “You didn’t- know that, about vampires?”

“So,” Hermann wipes his mouth again, “I did not just bite into an artery?”

“Nope,” Newt sits up, hands him tissues, “Totally normal. Not many bodily fluids beside blood. Sorry.”

Hermann wipes his mouth pulls a face. “Do you have any mouthwash?”

“In the bathroom,” Newt relaxes back on the sofa, “D’you want me to return the favour when you get back?”

Hermann pauses at the door, then smiles, “As long as you don’t have silver fillings.”
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So, someone thought this would be a good idea.

It was sealed in the shop. Possibly to keep the universe from dividing by zero.
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every song is an OTP song if you AU hard enough



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