okay okay


This is Ravus.

He and Noctis have some issues they need to work out.

(Previously on ‘This is Ravus’)

Blowing off his little comment, Y/N slides up besides him, “Do you need any help?” She asks, “And before you go on that spiel about how you’ve handled your own laundry for a whole 3 some odd years, I wan’t to be able to pay you in some way if you won’t take my money.”

Harry thinks on it for a while, nibbling down at his lip, before he slides one of his floral shirts over to her (it’s burgundy, loose, and floaty), “These are hung, but the cotton shirts are just folded.”

“You know,” Y/N works on picking up a hanger in the mass of clothes on his bed, “For 20 something, you’ve sure accumulated a lot of clothing in the last few years. More than Cher,  I’d reckon.”

Chuckling, Harry decides not to ask if 120 years still counted as a few.


Harry’s a real shit vampire and Y/N has no clue (maybe)

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