#and yet in their own way it's been very productive

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 8

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

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Chapter warnings: descriptions of violence

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 8: So Close Yet So Far

Chapter summary: While facing off against Vergo and trying to destroy the SMILE factory, you finally display your newfound devil fruit powers. After the battle, Law opens up to you, and the two of you get closer than ever before.

A/N: y'all are going to hate Luffy for this one lol

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 3k

You grinned as you caressed the sniper rifle in your hands. It's been a while since you were able to fight, and you were so excited to be back on the field. You found your new-found Devil Fruit powers to be very useful, Since you were able to be completely silent, you took advantage of the powers, and you were able to sneak around the laboratory and take out every enemy you saw in the distance. It was perfect; no one could detect you because you moved in silence.

Law told you to assist the Strawhats in fighting Monet and Caesar while he went after Vergo, who had his heart in his hands. However, you figured that your brother and his crew were able to fend off on their own, so you decided to sneak away and look for your captain.

You loaded the sniper and wore it on your back. With a pistol in hand, you snuck into the SAD production room in hopes of finding Law there. However, you weren't alone. A gunshot rang as you saw Caesar's men nearing behind you. Caesar's men managed to follow you and tried to shoot you down. However, you were nimble enough that you scurried your way to one of the huge tankards in the room and hid yourself as you prepared your sniper for assault.

Crouching down on the cold floor, you perched the weapon and positioned yourself. You watched the henchmen spread out and check their surroundings. An eery smile graced your lips as your index finger lightly brushed on the trigger.

One by one, the men collapsed, and no one saw it coming. There was no gunshot sound, only the sound of bodies dropping to the floor echoed throughout the vicinity of the production room.

Once you finish them off, you make your way further down the room until you see a man with white hair lying on the floor and a tall, muscular man looming over him. You hide behind a nearby tankard once more and peek out to see the commotion.

Your eyes focused on the fallen figure. It was Smoker.

A soundless gasp escaped your mouth. You quickly set your sniper down again and positioned yourself, aiming the barrel of the gun at the individual who you assumed beat down the Vice Admiral. However, before you could pull the trigger, a pair of black shoes made their way towards your target. As you glanced up, you saw a familiar man with a floor-long coat.

Smoke started to surround the area while the man continued to look at the fallen Smoker. "You should've been stronger, Smoker." he reprimanded. "It's over."

Smoker let out a gravelly laugh as he commanded his body to turn into Smoke once more. The smoke trailed its way around Smoker and toward Law.

The individual turned around and faced your captain. You knew that face; it was Vergo.

The smoke slowly cleared out, and in Law's hands was his heart. You grinned. Smoker was able to get Law's heart back.

"Thank you for getting my heart back, Smoker." the warlord thanked the Marine.

"Just beat his ass for me, Trafalgar." Smoker grunted while his lungs coughed up.

You decided to take the chance while everyone was distracted and aimed your rifle towards Vergo once more. With no hesitation, you pulled the trigger and silently shot the man in the shoulder as a warning.

Vergo let out a grunt of pain. He looked to his right shoulder and saw that he was shot.

"Who shot me?" he sneered.

Law and Smoker looked puzzled. Vergo has been shot, but there was no gunshot sound. The three men stood still as they tried to hear if someone else was in the room. They were met with eery silence.

You hid yourself once more and loaded your rifle. Although your powers took sound away from you, you couldn't help but move quietly out of instinct.

"Someone's hiding behind that tankard," Vergo announced. You felt his gaze piercing through you even though you were hiding.

"Aw, shit." you thought. "This dude has Observation Haki." Getting up from the ground, you decided that it was time for you to leave since Law was able to get his heart back. Sneaking around another tankard, you ran towards the exit of the room. However, you were stopped by a fist that appeared out of nowhere and connected with your face.

You soundlessly stumble out into the open and crash back fist onto the ground. Your rifle flies out of your hand and lands several feet away from you. Smoker's eyes widen as he sees you lying on the floor.

"Hey, isn't that (Y/n)? he questions.

As soon as your name is brought up, Law whips his head around and starts to clench Kikoku's handle hard once he sees you lying on the floor.

"(Y/n)-ya! Why are you here?!" he booms as he quickly makes his way towards you.

You painfully twist your neck and see your captain's quick stride toward you.

"Don't come near me!" you tried to scream, but you forgot that your powers were still in effect, which resulted in you soundlessly mouthing out words. Law froze once he saw that your voice was absent.

"What happened to your voice?" he lowly questioned. You saw that his grey pupils started wavering as he watched you slowly sit up.

Time seemed to slow down for Law he glanced at your lips and saw your mouth the word 'silence.' With the snap of your fingers, all sound returned to you. Letting out a huge sigh, you groan as the pain from Vergo's punch grew by the second. You cradled the cheek that was impacted and started to stand yourself up from the ground.

Trafalgar Law couldn't move. He couldn't bring himself to speak or react to what he had just witnessed. The last time he saw those powers being used was when his saviour was shot to death by his brother. Decades later, those same powers appeared to him once more, but this time, it was someone else using them.

It was you.

"You're distracted!" Vergo boomed as he suddenly swung his bamboo staff at Law. The impact sent the tattooed doctor flying across the room and landed him next to Smoker.

You managed to stand yourself up and tried to limp your way towards your rifle. You were unaware that Vergo was behind you and making his way towards you. Coating his entire body and staff with Armament Haki, he lifted his staff and prepared to strike you from behind.

"(Y/n)!! Behind you!" Smoker yelled out towards you.

You turned around, and time seemed to slow down around you. Your eyes widened in fear as you see the staff slowly make its way toward the side of your head. You closed your eyes and waited for the impact.

But it never came.

A small breeze grazed your face, and you suddenly found yourself sitting next to Smoker. A huge sigh of relief escaped your lungs as you realized what happened.

Your beloved captain shambled your positions at the last minute.

Vergo grunted in surprise as he found himself facing Law once more. Kikoku barricaded against his bamboo staff. Shifting his weight forward, the bamboo staff slid against the blade of the sword as it smashed into the ground.

Law took several steps back, his eyes not faltering from Vergo's figure.

"You brat, do you want a reminder of how I pummelled you as a kid?" he sneered. Readying himself, he shot himself from the ground and flew headfirst towards Law.

Law calmly readied his blade as Vergo sped towards him. With a dark gleam in his eyes, he wordlessly sliced through the undercover Marine's body and cleanly cut him in half. A few seconds passed by before you felt a tremor. Glancing up, your eyes popped out of your head as you saw the entire building was cut in half.

"WHAT THE FUCK!!!" you screamed. The cold air immediately hits your lungs as the entire facility flies off. The gas being held in the giant tankards started to escape into the air.

Panic started to seep into your system. Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you shot up from the ground, completely ignoring the fact that your entire was in pain. You started to run out as fast as you could, but as you took a step forward, your feet landed on a small pool of blood (possibly Smoker's), and you found yourself falling back to the ground. This time, you fell forward head first.

The last thing you heard before you hit the ground was Law shouting your name.

You immediately black out.

---------------

The first thing you felt was your head pounding. You felt consciousness come back as you felt like you were being gently rocked back and forth. Your senses started to awaken as you faintly smelt roasted meat. Cracking your eyes open, you were greeted with a blinding bright light and a brown ceiling.

You weren't in Punk Hazard anymore. You let out a huge sigh of relief. You were finally out of that cold wasteland that you called home for the last few weeks.

Glancing your head to the left, you couldn't help but smile when you saw a sunlit window. You get up from the bed you were lying in, make your way toward the window, and peered out. It was a bright and sunny day, and it seemed that you were back in the seas on someone's ship. The blue sea water glistened as waves gently rolled by.

While you were gazing out the window, you heard the door gently open and close with a small click.

"So you're finally awake." a low voice murmured.

You turn around to see Law standing and holding a glass of water. He still had his coat on, but he was missing his signature hat. His legs made their way toward you, and he reached out to hand you the glass of water. You wordlessly accept the gesture and drink from it.

Placing the drink down at the nearby bedside table, you sat down at the edge of the bed. Your captain mirrored your actions.

"So, how long was I out for this time?" you joked as you faced the tattooed doctor to your right.

"This time? Only 6 hours," he said.

"I see," you muttered back.

The atmosphere suddenly felt heavy and awkward. A pregnant silence prolonged as the two of you refused to speak up. The only things that could be heard were the soft rocking of the ship and the small sound of waves that seeped through the walls.

"So, when were you going to tell me about your Devil Fruit powers (Y/n)-ya?" Law asked, finally breaking the silence.

You shyly glance up and give out a small smile. "To be honest with you, captain, I forgot to tell you about it during our stay at Punk Hazard. Are you mad at me for not telling you sooner?" you weakly asked.

"No, I'm not," he answered back. "But, the fruit you ate...the powers you have...it's a shock to me. Do you know which fruit you ate?

You shook your head.

"The Nagi Nagi no mi. Grants you the ability of silence. You became a Soundless Human." he continued.

You let out a small laugh. "A Soundless Human huh? Seems ironic, I'm the opposite of soundless." you joked.

Law gave you a small yet sad smile. Concern started to fill your being as you realized he was being vulnerable to you.

"Do...do you have a history with this fruit? Someone you knew?" you slowly asked.

The tattooed doctor leaned back further into the bed and sighed. He faced away from you and looked towards the window before he spoke up again. "You've probably heard of the name Corazon by now."

You remained silent before he continued. "Corazon was...his real name was Rosinante. Donquixote Rosinante."

As you heard the Donxiquote name, your eyes widened. "Donxiquote? As in, Donquixote Doflamingo?" you asked.

"Yes, he was Doflamingo's brother. I used to work for Doflamingo as a child. I wanted to kill, so he took me in. I had so much hatred for the world after my entire town and family were killed. Doflamingo took advantage of my vulnerable state. I was sick with White Lead disease, but his brother saved me." he spoke.

You leaned and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him deeply sigh as he continued to tell his story.

"Corazon was the original Nagi Nagi no mi user I knew of. He pretended to be mute through his powers, and it allowed him to be undercover. He was a Marine tasked to take down his brother. His original assignment was to make sure Doflamingo was taken care of, but..." he paused. "But he prioritized my freedom and my cure from sickness in the end." he quietly finished.

You sat in silence, pondering about the story Law just told you. For the first time, he has told you his story, and you couldn't help but feel empathy for him. You reached out to hold his hand, which was lying flat on the mattress. Law glanced down as he felt your warm hand envelop his.

"Thank you, captain, for telling me about you. I'm honoured, really honoured, that you trust me enough to know this." you finally spoke up. You looked at his face and beamed a small smile. Your eyes gently crinkled as you made small circles with your thumb as it ghosted his inner palm.

"For what it's worth, I swear that I'll use Corazon's powers the way he wanted it to be used. It's funny I'm a sniper who specializes in quiet and distant combat. It's almost like I was meant to have it." you laughed, trying to bring the mood up.

"I believe you were meant to have it (Y/n)-ya," Law whispered.

Your chest started to tighten as your captain gazed into your eyes. A new expression filled his eyes: warmth and endearment.

"Y-you think so?" you squeaked as shuffling your feet on the bed.

The doctor slowly brought up his tattooed right hand and cupped your left cheek. His thumb gently caressed your soft skin as he brought his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The unexpected close contact caused your heart to exhilarate and your body to heat up as you felt a blush coming in.

"You mean the world to me." Law confessed as his Adam's apple bobbed up nervously. "For you to have Cora-san's fruit, I believe that you were sent my way for a reason."

"W-what do you mean?" you softly whispered. The amount of raw emotion Law was displaying felt overwhelming. You could feel his angst and his care for you radiate through his body and words.

He pulled away from your face and opened his eyes to look at you once more. With both of his hands cradling each side of your face, you felt his hot breath against yours as he leaned in.

"You stupid girl." he breathed. "Do you want me to spell it out for you?"

A light whine escaped your throat as you shut your eyes out of embarrassment. You couldn't believe what was happening. You heard Law's throatily chuckle as you felt him inch close to your face. His lips were now ghosting over yours as you felt his hot breath mingle with yours. Bringing up your hands to his sides, you squeezed his coat as a signal for him to go forward. You swear you felt his soft lips just graze against yours until-

"HEY TRAFFY! WHY ARE YOU EATING MY SISTER?" a familiar voice hollered as the door swung open and banged the wall.

You felt Law stiffen as he halted. You let go of your grip and felt your entire body freeze in fear.

The two of you turned your heads to see Luffy huffing like a wild bull with steam comically escaping his ears.

The amorous mood of the room dispersed and was now replaced with a murderous aura. Never in your life have you had a real intent to murder your younger brother until now. Your soft eyes were now replaced with a fiery glare as you shot up from the mattress and stomped your way toward your younger brother.

"LUFFY, YOU INCONSIDERABLE BASTARD!" you screamed as you wrung your brother's neck in fury.

"I'm sorry! What did I do?!" he choked as he flailed around to get away from your grip.

Paying no mind to the crew that was now gathering around since they heard you scream, you dragged your brother by the neck as his rubber body flopped on the wooden ship floor. Law and the Strawhats watched you in horror as you hauled the poor man up the stairs with threats of throwing him overboard and into the sea, spilling out your tongue.

Once you and Luffy disappeared onto the deck, the crew turned their heads to see Law, head in his hands and sighing loudly.

"Hey, what happened here?" Sanji inquired.

"Nothing," Law muttered. His neck started to turn red as he shot up from the bed and made his way past the Strawhats and up to the deck.

"What perfect timing." he thought to himself, "I don't know how I'm going to face her now."

Meanwhile, Robin put her hand on her cheek and smiled. "I think I know what happened." she coolly said.

"What is it? What happened?" Chopper asked as he started to pester the older woman.

It took two seconds for the rest of the crew to figure out why you were unbelievably mad at their captain.

"Oh, Luffy, that idiot can never read the room." Nami sighed as a smile graced her lips.

Zoro and Sanji tilted their heads in confusion. "I'm just as lost as Chopper. What happened Nami-san? Robin-chan?" Sanji asked.

Robin giggled. "I think it's going to be an interesting few weeks while we travel to Dressrosa." she simply answered.

------

cockblocked by your own brother lol

-----

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky @whore-of-many-hot-men

[piratesexmachine420]

Calculators are so fascinating to me because they're just... so obviously a wrong answer. Nobody¹ wants them, they're baffling to use, they're cost-cut to hell and yet unreasonably expensive (a new Casio PRIZM FX-CG50 has an MSRP of $129.99 USD. You can buy a chromebook for that price), and they're eternally like two or three generations behind the rest of the tech world.

For 90% of all intents and purposes, the dedicated calculator should be a dead product class, like VCRs, or asbestos underpants.

And yet... they hang on. They've been hanging on. And they've got a lot to say about the evolution of personal electronics, user interface design, OS architecture, the relationship between math and the public over time, big business in education--they're all very interesting artifacts, in their own ways. Some of 'em are even good products! (Not many, but some...)

I think more people should appreciate the humble calculator. Not because they're better than you think, but because they aren't.

¹Well, nobody but me and some other hyper nerds. Go team!

[gofancyninjaworld]

Can you make Saitama and Reigen comparison as mentor figures? I find it interesting how One has teacher-student pair and their dynamics in center of both of his main stories. Maybe trow in Mob and Genos comparison as students.

Merry Christmas my dude!

I am sorry this has taken so many months to write. It's a great ask and I sat down many a time to draft it and kept getting interrupted. Now that I've caught up with the last of Mob Psycho 100 anime (sob), I may as well put down my thoughts before I get distracted yet again.

I think the single greatest similarity between Reigen and Saitama as mentors is that each feels hopelessly inadequate to the task of actually mentoring his trusting charge. The reasons differ, of course: Reigen has absolutely no clue what a psychic's experiences are like, and Saitama's internal consternation at what he could possibly tell a cyborg, given that muscle training was all he knew is one for the ages.

It's interesting that each decided to go for general principles rather than specific advice. However, their approaches differ so much in that: for much of the story, Reigen pretended to be more worldly-wise and full of powers beyond what even Mob could sense. Saitama, although he has lied to Genos on occasion, has been much more straightforward about what he knows. The adoration they receive despite (or maybe because) of their non-specific advice has been quite something. With the benefit of a complete story, we've watched how Mob's view of Reigen has matured and become more clear-eyed without his ever losing respect for his mentor. It's still very much a work in progress when it comes to Genos, where some searing clarity is admixed with some of the most extreme hero-worship depicted in fiction. No idea how that's going to resolve, nor the unacknowledged sexual tension between them (something rightly not present in Mob Psycho 100).

I like that in their own ways, both would do anything for their mentees when things go wrong in a major way... but aren't quite so scrupulous on the small stuff.

Given who their mentees are, it's remarkable that each has emphasised normality. Reigen always told Mob to regard psychic powers as just an aspect of who he was, no different from some people being characterized by being tall or having strong body odour. It's been helpful to Mob in putting into perspective what his powers could and could not do for him. And it has been great that Reigen was instrumental in helping Mob understand and accept all of himself. Saitama's precondition for Genos was that the latter get a job already.

The very different goals Reigen and Saitama have colour what advice they give. Reigen's goal for Mob has been in keeping with his philosophy. He doesn't actually have to do any particular job as his parents aren't badly off, so Spirits and Such has been his way of finding something interesting to do. He may con people, but he always aims to leave them better off. Mob is no different in this regard. Even as trouble comes their way, Reigen has always been mindful of Mob's psychological well-being. Saitama is a hero: it's literally what he lives for and his disciple had better be one too. The percepts he outlines for Genos are murderous in their uncompromising stance: a hero must always make progress, regardless. Must never retreat. Must never refuse to take on an enemy, no matter how dire.

As for student-teacher relationships more widely, ONE writes quite a few of them. I've explored them somewhat in these two meta, if you've not already seen them. Sensei! and Sensei, pt 2. I will probably do a third at some point.

[gingerswagfreckles]

I think people need to understand that when someone says the situation in Israel/Palestine is complicated they are not necessarily saying that the discussion of who the oppressor vs oppressed is complicated. The Israeli government has been oppressing the Palestinians for a very long time, that is clear, and it is not complicated to understand that at least since the 80s they have had dramatically more financial and military power to keep control of the territory in the way they like.

However, it is reductive and dismissive to insist that there is no complexity in the potential ways to move forward to bring peace to the region. Despite what people on tumblr.edu like to believe, "Israel should never have been created" is not a practical solution to an incredibly heated geopolitical situation in the present day. Israel was created and it does exist. 10 million people live there. 74% of the population is native born and the country has existed for 75 years. Hand waving these fact away with the opinion that "they should move back to where they came from" may make you feel good about being a Radical Leftist, but it does not give anyone a road map for how exactly millions of people without dual citizenship are supposed to just up and evaporate. Nor does it acknowledge the reality that 21% of Israelis are Arabs, the very people you are claiming to want to give the land back to.

Insisting that there's nothing complicated about expecting an entire country's population to willingly dissappear with no consequences is not a productive way to think about this conflict. It ignores the many massive superpowers that have an interest in proping up different states in the region, the power dynamics involved in any land back movements, and the inevitably negative consequences of totally dissolving an established state without a plan. It is also completely and almost comically unrealistic, so much so that it makes it hard to believe that anyone who's opinion starts and ends with this idea really gives a shit about anyone who lives in the area as much as they care about their online leftist clout.

There's nothing complicated in understanding that the Israeli government is and has been maintaining an oppressive apartheid state for decades. It is, however, very complicated to come up with a realistic way to resolve some of the most intricately entangled land disputes on the planet without plunging the region into total chaos. Not everyone has to be deeply educated on every geopolitical situation, but it is very hard to take people seriously when they know nothing about the politics or history of a region and yet insist that there is nothing complicated about it at all.

There's a lot of people on this website who are getting dangerously smug about their own ignorance, and are starting to go down Qanon type anti-intellectual paths in the name of being sufficiently radical. Not knowing the details of a very convoluted land dispute isn't something to brag about online as you call for intentionally reductive solutions. You can support the Palestinian cause and be aware of the oppression they have faced while also holding off on calling people trying to do real analysis and de-escalation work bootlickers. We need to get control of the urge to fit every global issue into a simplistic YA novel narrative structure that appeals to Western revolutionary fantasies.

[pippin-pippout]

For those following the SAG and WGA strikes there’s new shit a-brewing, this time targeting background actors (aka extras).

Some may know that one of the issues SAG is fighting is that studios want to take virtual scans of background actors and use them in perpetuity (meaning forever) without any additional compensation to those background actors. So you would just see a bunch of AI generated humans in future movies based off of a background actor that worked one day.

This is already shitty because working as an extra for 3 days on a union set (if you receive a union voucher each day) is one of the main ways to qualify for SAG eligibility. This means that a lot of actors working background do not yet have union protection and likely do not have an agent or manager to protect them. Disney has already allegedly told background actors to do this on the set of Wanda Vision: https://www.avclub.com/wandavision-background-actors-say-disney-scanned-them-1850709900

Here’s where it's worse.

There is one main company that supplies background actors for major union and non union productions. Central Casting. They love to brag about their very long influence in the industry - in old movies dating back to the 40s you can hear jokes about hiring extras from Central Casting.

Central Casting has been including an electronic document for all actors in their database to sign as part of onboarding. Signing it gives Central Casting the right to use your images, your videos, and YOUR LIKENESS in perpetuity, forever. They would OWN your likeness. Instead of it being a studio supplying the AI background actors, it would be Central Casting instead.

Receiving any work from Central Casting in the future is conditional upon signing it. No signature = no extra work = no extra income for union actors trying to make health insurance minimums, no union extra work for pre-SAG members.

SAG already reached out to Central Casting to tell them to stop. Central Casting refused.

Edit to say: this is not new. It’s part of actors onboarding and is called the Photo, Image, and Video Release. It’s phrased to sound like you are just giving them permission to use your image and video for CC’s website and promotional purposes. But the actual language is much broader. It's only recently being brought up as a point for discussion because some casting directors (who are generally supportive of the strike) started pointing it out.

Central Casting is owned by Entertainment Partners which is also a giant software conglomerate and owns a lot of the software used to organize background casting and pay actors. https://www.ep.com/company/about-us/

[esperderek]

I have to have a chuckle at the Screenrant article posted recently about the Galactic Starcruiser, which totally wasn't about Jenny Nicholson's video honest.

In part, because early in Nicholson's video, she talks about how unnatural it is to have your influencers speak in adcopy and copyright rather than the more colloquial nicknames, and how it makes the people speaking about the product seem very insincere and, well, paid off. Because normal humans don't speak that way, but advertising does.

What's the first two lines in this article?

"As a life-long fan of Star Wars, there was nothing quite as exciting as finding out that I would be working on the immersive Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser experience. Located at the Walt Disney World Resort, the Galactic Starcruiser opened on March 1, 2022, and welcomed passengers to board a two-day, two-night cruise through the stars, during which they could live out their own Star Wars adventure."

No one talks like this naturally. No one writes like this naturally.

This is supposed to be your passioned defense of the place you worked at, the people you worked with, and the memories you made along the way. C'mon! Why don't you open with a story, perhaps an anecdote about the best moment you had working there, or the devastation of the day you lost your dream job. We need to feel your humanity! But there's nothing of that here, to the point where you can just hear the TM behind Galactic Starcruiser.

The first half of this article continues in this vein, reading like a press release Disney marketing put out, just with past tense rather than present or future tense:

"Essentially, the Starcruiser experience was a 48-hour movie that passengers were actually a part of. It was all facilitated through the "datapad," which was accessed through the Play Disney Parks app."

"To facilitate the overarching immersive experience and storytelling, the Starcruiser built a jam-packed itinerary for each and every guest that would consist of a variety of important activities: the captain's toast at muster, a bridge training exercise, lightsaber training, and more. These types of events were essential to understanding what was happening, as they would give passengers the chance to interact with characters and build their story. This is why the Starcruiser could never be just a hotel; every part of it was designed for enthusiastic interaction."

Like, c'mon. I used to work in television. I've seen and used adcopy in my former job, and this is some serious adcopy. It honestly wouldn't shock me if the author dredged up some old adcopy they had lying around about the topic and just transferred it over, changing the tense. You're not here to sell us this product, because there is no product to sell. It's gone, it's been gone for a year, you don't have to sell us on IT. Speak about your experiences.

The next part is yet another topic that Jenny Nicholson pointed out, the bad faith excuses that influencers and advertisers made for the extreme price point:

"What many people don't know, however, is that the price included much more than just a room. The passengers' food, park tickets, recreation activities on board, non-alcoholic drinks, and more were all included - with merchandise being one of the few additional costs on board."

Which is absolute bad faith reasoning, especially when there are plenty of other vacation options that are ALSO all-inclusive, but are MUCH cheaper and offer MORE amenities than the Galactic Starcruiser did! Including Disney Cruises, owned by the same company! Seriously, you can go on a halfway decent sounding cruise or all-inclusive resort somewhere warm for, like, a week or two and spend far less than GSC cost.

Then the last part is essentially: "All the workers liked working there and the bad reviews afterwards make the workers who worked on it feel sad. :("

Which, like, companies have been hiding behind that reasoning for ages. Curiously, the author never offers....any reasons or stories. WHY did working on it impact you so much? What set it apart, what were the people like, what did you like about working there, why are you so passionate about it even a year later? There's nothing, just a generic sort of "We worked hard." and "We're sad it's gone." Why? How? What happened? The video you're obviously writing this in response to is filled with personal anecdotes and stories, it's the backbone of the video! Again, you need to give us something to show your humanity!

Especially when you consider that Nicholson repeatedly points out that the only highlight about her experience, the only thing that kept the damn thing going was the workers.

She had nothing but praise for them, and nothing but contempt for the higher ups who wasted and abused that enthusiasm, to the point where one of her last points was "Hey, Disney is basically exploiting labor."

Much like Jenny, I'm also not condemning anyone who had a good time working there. Good! If you were having a good time at work, that's great. If you have good memories about the people, awesome. But I'll note two things:

a) That doesn't meant you weren't being exploited, and

b) That doesn't mean you have to be a useful idiot for the corporation you worked for afterwards.

I'm not conspiracy brained enough to go "Oh, Disney TOTALLY forced this article into being.", because a cursory examination of the author's prior works and such suggests a lifelong passion for Star Wars, she did work at the hotel, and she's a Star Wars Editor (whatever THAT means in this day and age) for Screen Rant. Apparently one of the heads of Screen Rant says that Disney had no hand in it either.

Though, I can see why people would think that way. It READS like a press release, not something a normal human being would write about an experience they feel passionate about.

[describe-things]

Making this its own post to further spread the correct information.

The name Mickey Mouse is Public Domain.

Trademark is a separate thing from copyright. Trademark means you can't trick people into thinking your version of Mickey Mouse is sanctioned by Disney.

You do not need to rename Mickey Mouse to use this character.

He's literally named in the title card (along with two alternate outfits for him and Minnie that are also Public Domain, which means, yes! You can give him gloves!).

The only way the name "Mickey Mouse" would still be copyrighted would be if he hadn't been named yet in Steamboat Willie, which very clearly isn't the case, because his name is the largest thing on the title card:

[ID: A screenshot from the Web Archive’s video player showing the video paused at 00:04, showing the title card that reads:

“Disney Cartoons presents A Mickey Mouse sound cartoon: Steambie Willie, A Walt Disney comic by UB Iwerks, recorded by Cinephone system, copyright MCMXXVIII”.

On either side of the text are Mickey and Minnie, smiling at eachother. Mickey is holding up a hat in one hand, and a cane in the other with a wide grin of greeting. He has a white face, a buck tooth in his open mouth, white gloves, and light grey shoes and shorts, with the shorts having dark buttons and darker vertical stripes. Minnie has her hands clasped as she smiles at Mickey with lowered eyelids in a flirting pose. She has the same hat as mickey, with a flower stick behind it. She has two circles on her chest like a bra or bow, with a polkadot skirt with a wavy edge. She is wearing light grey heels. End ID.]

There is also a public domain poster with color, which means this design is also Public Domain. And again, this one also names him Mickey Mouse -- making the name Mickey Mouse Public Domain! And this alone would have made the name Public Domain even if he hadn't been named in Steamboat Willie! And, he again has gloves!

[ID: A color poster reading, "Celebrity Productions Inc. Present a Mickey Mouse Sound Cartoon. A Walt Disney comic drawn by UB Iwerks. The World's Funniest cartoon character, a sensation in sound and synchrony.". Mickey is drawn with one hand on his hip and the other in the air. He is wearing yellow gloves with a button in the center of the palm, red pants with white buttons, and large brown boots. He has a red blush on his nose and cheek. His tongue is red, and his black pupils have a white triangle on the side. The background is pale tan. End ID.]

There is also literally nothing stopping anyone from giving any of these characters new color designs with entirely new outfits. That's what the Public Domain is for. Don't think you can only use these characters in black and white, you just can't use versions that Disney still owns the copyright to.

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[silkjade-archived]

CLASSICAL CONDITIONING !

⤀ synopsis: careful how you tease the duke ⤀ cw: fem!reader, 'good girl', established relationship, unprotected + rough sex, overstimulation, use of handcuffs, lil bit of dom!wrio — ꒰ mdni ꒱ a/n: i blacked out and when i came to, this was written && sitting pretty in my drafts

for the duration of your relationship, you’ve made it a habit to bring wriothesley tea every afternoon. it’s something that’s become so ingrained in his routine, that when the noon bell chimes two, he’s compelled to sit a little straighter, exchanging unrequited glances with the large double doors of his office.

as the minutes tick by, he finds himself a little more irritable, finds it admittedly more difficult to focus on the paperwork at hand. you're late and it's not until a quarter past, that he finally hears the familiar tap tap on the door, that indicates your much anticipated arrival.

by the time you make it to the top of the stairwell, the fragrance of freshly brewed tea has long filled the room, yet your boyfriend's eyes remain trained on the documents before him. unbeknownst to you however, he's been reading through the same line for the umpteenth time, clearly distracted without your little midday pick-me-up.

“for your hard work,” you hum, setting the teacup to his side before stepping away and just missing—though in his opinion, dodging—his expectant lips.

wriothesley blinks. it’s neither the tea nor the pastries that he looks forward to everyday, but the kisses that always follow—until today, apparently, where you’ve left him with the terrible notion that his lips are to remain grievously untouched.

he clears his throat. “aren’t you forgetting something?”

“hmm,” pouting, you tilt your head, brows loosely knitted with cluelessness. “i don’t think so.”

your duke leans back in his chair, arms crossed, before he huffs in amusement. “single handedly halting the productivity of the warden,” he lets out a low whistle, “could be a pretty hefty crime you know.”

“s’that so…” you seat yourself on the edge of his desk; it’s the playful little grin twitching at the corners of your lips that give you away. “well what’re you gonna do about it, your grace?”

it's quite cute how you giggle at the way he’s wrapped around your finger, and given the lovestruck look in his eyes, he truly does not mind at all. however, that's not to say he finds it fair.

because although they say it’s unwise to bite the hand that feeds you, this is not the nation of wisdom; here in fontaine, justice demands an equitable arrangement, and as the formidable duke of meropide, it's in his right to enact his own... so it really should be of no surprise when wriothesley shows no remorse as he drills into your gushing cunt, hellbent on conditioning you to cum on his cock and his cock only.

he makes sure to imprint the very shape of him into your walls: from the fat mushroom tip that first slips through your sticky folds, to the large bump of each vein dragging across your velvet insides—your little hole greedily swallows every thick inch of him. over and over, every thrust sheathes him to the hilt, and the heavy sounds of skin against skin echo through the room.

the sudden cold of his fingers on your clit sends a shudder through your core, jolting as he begins to press and toy with the nub, legs twitching while his heavy balls continue to slap against your puffy pussy lips. you squirm in his hold—far too sensitive to cum again, but you're so close.

your hips bounce back and forth, alternating between the hard edge of the desk that presses sharply into your skin, and the merciless ruts that penetrate so deep inside. but like the doting lover he is, wriothesley takes note of your woes and makes a decision for you. he presses his weight into you, grazing his teeth lightly down the nape of your neck.

"ah ah," he coos, "c'mon you can take it. be a good girl for me, yeah?"

it's a shaky, dreamy imitation of your voice, that nods along to the thin facade of agency; with your wrists cuffed behind your back, and body bent over, imprisoned between the warden and his desk, the only thing you can do is to take it.

still, your walls tighten around him nonetheless, prompting him to angle his hips, hitting that spot with a precision that only comes with experience. you keen beneath him, spiraling into yet another dose of exhilarating bliss as you cum again, creaming all over the girthy shaft still buried in your wet mess of a cunt.

and as you're still shuddering from the intensity, consumed completely in the pleasure, wriothesley continues to grind your insides. he's far from finished and intends to carry on until you’re blissed beyond any semblance of sane, drunk on the memory of being molded to his fat cock.

a/n2: reblogs and feedback appreciated, as always ^^ ty for reading !

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[acid-ixx]

I hope you don’t mind but I need to ramble this to someone, neglected Wayne reader right? The fam would forget to bring them to social events and whatnot right? So there would be very few pictures, articles and interviews or even facts about them, meaning that reader Wayne is a rarity. Still following me? Reader Wayne with a small but devout fanbase.

I’m talking they are trading the latest pictures and sharing links to the rare interview with reader in it, following any social media they have that isn’t private, they are just fascinated by this micro celebrity that seems to always be forgotten. Okay but also imagine one of the heroes developing a para-social attachment to reader. My money is on Conner Kent, mainly bc he can project his own issues with his dads onto reader and he can Dolores ~Encanto~ reader with his super hearing and develop a even bigger parasocial obsession with them

I hope you enjoyed this ramble, I will leave you be now, see ya later alligator! 🐊

omg another one of my asks that actually predicted a major plot point... this ask ties well with the last part written here. i'm thinking about having the reader get a love interest/s but i have already written an outline but one thing is for sure—

you have more than just your family interested in taking you.

major spoilers below the cut. — an excerpt from chapter xx

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

maybe this is out of the picture, but id' like to imagine you and connor having a therapy session where one comes out absolutely obsessed with the other, and it's not you.

connor's character for me is so, so good for an angst potential. it's like his personal struggles is a way for him to show you how absolutely you two are meant to be. and he may have met you through bumping into you (false) or maybe... he has seen you stalking through the shadows back when he visits the manor. using his superhearing, he can hear your voice from the kitchen begging alfred to relay a message to bruce, sounding so absolutely desperate. it's the way you tell alfred how you wished your father actually spends time with you, or how nobody seems to notice you— that he kind of just makes a silent promise that he will talk to you soon, he needs to know why this family seems so keen on ignoring and how hypocritical tim is for literally doing the same thing to you when he's aware of kon's past.

if he (or anyone else) should be a love interest (though he is a minor character in the series unless you guys want him to be a major one), i can already imagine the absolute hell you have to suffer not only from your family but from your own lover. just imagine the stockholm syndrome or the delusions you convince yourself with because you're finally loved by someone but that love restricts you from the very freedom you tried to build.

the batfamily would be so conflicted because why are you choosing some stranger over them...? then you slap them in the face with, "well, this "stranger" wants to kidnap me and lock me up, sure! but at least they actually looked at me for more than five seconds!" and you can watch how the color drains off their face, their conflict giving you the perfect opportunity to run away from both your ex-family and your soon-to-be-kidnapper-lover who thinks your comeback is a funny way for you to propose.

[swantranslations]

Miyazaki's Retirement Declarations (chronologically)

Translated from last week's NHK documentary on the production of The Boy and The Heron (more under cut). I saw people posting a screencap of this and I just couldn't contain myself. THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON WAY LONGER THAN I IMAGINED LMFAO

This is from the NHK programme "Professional - Their Working Philosophy" (プロフェッショナル 仕事の流儀) a few days ago (16/12/2023). The episode investigates the production process of The Boy and the Huron, and how the late Takahata Isao influenced the movie.

(It was confirmed within the documentary that Mahito = Miyazaki, Great Uncle = Takahata Isao, The Heron = Suzuki Toshio, Kiriko = Yasuda Michiyo)

The documentary is currently available on the NHK Streaming Service (Location Limited). If you have your own ways of watching and you know Japanese, I would definitely recommend the episode as it gives a lot of much-needed context to The Boy and The Heron. Personally, I haven't found a way to watch it yet, so all I know about the documentary are hearsay I saw on Japanese twitter.

Original screencap:

Also, at the very end of the episode, Miyazaki was shown working on a Naucicaa piece without any explanation, which led to many people speculating whether he could be working on a sequel for Naucicaa of the Valley of the Wind.

What do yall think? Do you think he's going to finally retire or release yet another animated film in a few years? I would love to see Naucicaa 2 but I also feel like he really needs to... yknow, chillax a bit and stuff. He deserves a long ass vacation.

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

[valsdelulucorner]

He felt his stomach aching inside of him, it wasnt the nice type of ache like butterfly's in your stomach, it felt like something was trying to get out, clawing it's away at his insides. This couldn't happen again, he promised himself it wouldnt happen again, he vowed on his own life this situation would never even be given the chance to even happen again.

You were just laying there on the floor, there wasn't much blood thanks to your shirt absorbing most of it, but there was this massive, gaping hole in your chest, right over where your heart used to be. No.... no no no no no, NO!

This shouldn't of happened again, there was no way it could of... yet there you were, just laying on the floor while your face was drained of its colour. He practically teleported to your side, holding you close to his body while he screamed out for Lucifer, diavolo, anyone that might be able to help you. He didnt understand, you were supposed to be safe at rad, you had magic to protect you, how could this have happened....

Damp hands caressed your face as tears burned down his face, leaving fresh tear burns scaring his skin. His treasure, his human, his MC.... your blood stained his skin and designer clothing, normally he would be pissy about anything staining them but he just didnt care, you were more important to him then any designer item he owned.

He felt weak being in this position again, holding your limp body close to him while he tried to help you, but you were long gone. Desperate and painful cries filled the empty halls of rad, no one was coming to help

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mammon!" Lucifer yelled out as he shook mammons shoulders, making him shoot up from under the covers, breathing heavily while his face was stained with tears. Still dazed and half asleep, he was trying to figure out what was going on while his brothers stood in his room, most of them annoyed from being woken up from his screaming.

"Diavolo's sake mammon, it's too early to be awake right now" a very tired asmo pointed out as he held onto his nightgown, hair still tied up perfectly... it wasn't real? But, wheres MC? Everything felt off

"Mc..." "MC's asleep right now mammon, it's a miracle that they didnt wake up from your yelling" Lucifer grumbled out while he rubbed his own eyes, not being given enough time to register that mammon was already out of the door and sprinting down the halls, trying to find you.

It took a while for all of them to realize where mammon was going, heading after him after getting their footing. Getting to your door, lucifer was about to storm in to grab mammon but he hesitated, hearing soft sniffling coming from behind the door.

What he found was a mammon kneeling besides your bed, crying into your waist while you comforted him. You didnt seemed bothered at all by this sudden intrusion, you didnt even seem to notice Lucifer, your entire focus on the demon holding into you like a life line.

Lucifer just closed the door quietly, telling everyone to go back to their rooms while he headed up to his own, he knew mammon needed this right now.

".....it happened again..." he whispered into your neck, arms wrapped around your waist as he cuddled you in bed now, your hands gently rubbing up and down his back. "I know mams, I know" You didnt ask him about the nightmare, you never do and he appreciates that, he doesnt want to cry infront of you again. He just needs to be held right now.

Shifting positions in bed, he left you go back to sleep while he was spooning you. He remained awake for another hour or two after you fell back asleep, his hand sneaking up your shirt and resting it over your heart, reassuring him your still alive while your heart beat against his fingers. He needed that reassurance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I headcannon that demon tears are made of holy water so when they cry, it burns their skin and eyes lol

It's almost midnight and I'm doing this on my phone but I needed to write something to say I've been productive today lol

What should I do next?

[loveanddeepthroat]

Hiii :3 not sure if you take requests for the other lads boys, but I love the way youu write and wondered if we could get some Zayne fluff 👉🏽👈🏽 Maybe like start of a relationship and mc gets her period unexpectedly when staying at his and gets super insecure about it and tries to go home but Zayne is concerned about her suddenly wanting to leave and finally gets the reason out of her, but he’s just super helpful and eases her worries. Thank you, love your blog!

The Bare Minimum

Pairing - Zayne x f!MC

Summary - You feel as though your world is ending when a day dedicated to some much needed time with Zayne is ruined by Mother Nature. You're desperate to get home without him noticing, but he was more prepared for this than you expected.

Word Count - 2.7k

Warnings - Multiple mentions of periods and blood.

You weren’t sure what was suddenly bothering you, but you were certain that it was catching Zayne’s attention.

It was one of those extremely rare occasions where both of you had a completely free weekend. No hunting, no surgeries, no plans.

Perfection. 

You were both at the very peak of your designated lazy Saturday—squished together on the recliner chair in his living room, eating takeout and watching the kind of TV shows that didn’t require too much attention. Between your impromptu make out sessions that consistently progressed into you straddling his legs, you weren’t even sure what was playing on the television. 

You were just happy to be with him in such an unusual setting for the both of you. A typical day where you were both blessed with synced schedules would be spent outdoors. Long, scenic walks. Trips to the library to pick up and return a few books. You dragging Zayne around the local mall against his will.

Neither of you were up for any of it this weekend. Your missions for the past few weeks had been exhausting, a few ending in swift trips to Akso for wounds that had looked worse than they had felt. Between Zayne’s concern for you and the demanding nature of his own job, he was feeling rather exhausted, too. He didn’t often indulge in lazy days, but you were pretty sure he just wanted to keep you cocooned in the safety of his home after seeing you injured one too many times.

After your fifth rather raunchy performance on his lap, you were feeling oddly uncomfortable. You put it down to aches and pains due to the exertion of your body recently, but even as you settled back beside him again, tucked under his heavy arm, you could feel the sensation creeping down your thighs and across your back.

It couldn’t possibly be that dreaded time of the month. You had another five days to go before you had to come up with reasons to not stay at his place for a week. Your relationship was still fresh and new, so you weren’t comfortable with the idea of being on your period whilst staying the night. There wasn’t a clear reason why you’d be so conscious about it, it wasn’t as if Zayne would chastise you for your womanly troubles.

For you though, it just felt a little too nerve wracking. Discarding sanitary products in his bathroom wastebasket. The possibility of leaking whilst you’re blissfully unaware in the land of sleep. And the most horrifying of all;

Your cramps.

Mother Nature was never kind to you in the first 24 hours of your cycle. There were many a day and night where you couldn’t unfurl yourself from the foetal position you would so quickly find yourself in. Mood swings, hot flushes, and an need for all things sugary and sweet.

Zayne didn’t need to see that side of you yet. The poor man would wonder where the hell his girlfriend had disappeared to, and why there was an emotional, writhing mess clutching a XXL tub of mint chocolate chip to her chest in her place.

As the minutes went by, you felt all of the familiar warning signs. His arm around you had been soothing and sweet all day, but was starting to feel like a furnace on your skin. The unmistakable feeling of the devil himself twisting your uterus with his bare hands was becoming stronger, and your squirming was drawing attention.

“Would you like me to move?” Zayne finally asked, brows slightly furrowed in your direction.

You had to get away from him. More so, you had to get off of the recliner, worried that if you were bleeding, you might have bled through to it.

Shaking your head quickly, you pulled yourself up to your feet, subtly eyeing the thankfully pristine spot where your ass had been perched all day. “No, of course not,” you reassured with a synthetic smile. “Just have to use the bathroom.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly hurried away before he had the chance. There was no time to waste.

As soon as the lock on the bathroom door clicked, you rushed to check yourself. The sight of fresh blood on the stark white toilet paper made you want to cry immediately. Of all the times for you to get your period five days early, it had to be whilst you were at Zayne’s.

You were at a complete loss on what you could do. You didn’t have any sanitary towels to hand, and your light grey sweatpants had succumbed to a slight stain that he may have already seen.

If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, it’d be a miracle.

Silent panic turned to tears of frustration. All you could do was wrap a wad of toilet paper around itself to act as a makeshift pad, and steer clear of Zayne. Thankfully, you hadn’t yet unpacked the gym bag you brought for the weekend, so swiftly grabbing it and legging it back to your own apartment should be easy enough.

You cleaned yourself up as best as you could and flushed away all evidence of your period, trying to compose yourself whilst you did. The sheer level of agony your cramps were already bestowing upon you had you almost doubling over at the sink as you splashed some cold water onto your face to rid yourself of your tears.

This had to be a nightmare.

A gentle tapping on the bathroom door almost startled a small scream out of you. Zayne’s soothing voice sounded from the hallway, “everything alright in there?”

Things were getting worse and worse by the damn minute. You couldn’t possibly get by him to retrieve your bag without him seeing your ridiculous tears and the evident pain you were in.

“Yeah,” you called out, your shaky voice betraying you.

He remained silent for a moment, clearly not convinced in the slightest. “What’s the matter?”

You weren’t getting away from this. He knew something was up, and he wasn’t going to let you suffer in silence. It wasn’t in his nature to just feign ignorance, especially when it came to your health or comfort.

“Nothing,” you called out again, hoping to whichever god was listening that he would just accept your answer.

Another bout of silence hung in the air, like he was trying to figure you out through a closed door. You were beginning to feel like a cornered animal, desperate for a route of escape.

You waited and waited for him to say something else, but you heard absolutely nothing. A small sigh of relief escaped you as you quietly opened the door, only to find him still standing there. You quickly tried to shut it again, but his foot took place in the small gap to stop you.

Not wanting to jam his foot, you gave up, folding your arms around yourself as if they were going to hide you. “I need to go home,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He nudged the door open with his socked foot, still saying nothing. You could feel him analysing you from head to toe. 

He was such a bloody doctor sometimes.

Eventually, he folded his own arms across his chest. “Why do you want to go home?”

“Need to go home,” you corrected, not wanting him to think that you didn’t want to spend the night with him. “I…I have to—”

He cut you off with an outstretched hand, waiting expectantly for you to take it. All you did was stare at it, confused by his intentions. 

Well, you also winced as Mother Nature gave you a swift boot to the abdomen.

“Can you come with me for a moment?” He asked in that gentle tone of his, eyes softening. “Please?”

You took his large hand with a small sigh, not seeing any other way out of this situation. Heat pooled in your cheeks in your sheer embarrassment. 

This wasn’t how your weekend together was supposed to go.

Zayne led you into the bedroom, letting go of your hand once you were both inside. Panic flashed in your mind as you couldn’t think of any reason why he would bring you into the bedroom.

“I really can’t—”

He turned away before you could finish your sentence, heading into the en-suite bathroom and reappearing with a small wicker basket.

You almost gasped at its contents as he approached you again.

Pads and tampons of every shape and size were nestled within, along with painkillers and heating pads for your back. You eyed multipacks of brand new, comfortable underwear in there, too, and some small plastic bags to dispose of your sanitary products.

You weren’t sure if it was just the beginnings of your expected emotional rollercoaster, or the innocent way he was holding it out to you, but you burst into very pathetic, blubbering tears. 

He quickly placed the basket down on the bed, holding your waist with his hands. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry, did I get the wrong—”

You quickly shook your head, dragging your forearm across your eyes to diminish your tears. “No. No, I’m sorry,” you reassured him. “I’m sorry. I just—did you buy all of that?”

“I did,” he said quietly, looking a tad bit sheepish. “I didn’t know which ones would be best for you, so I asked a female assistant—”

“You asked someone?” You were in disbelief. He’d gone to the store, looked like a lost sheep in the sanitary products aisle, and asked a clerk to help choose some options for you.

“I realise now that I should’ve asked you, instead.”

You shook your head again. “No, I’m not chastising you, Zayne. I’m…I’m hugely impressed—in awe, in fact.”

Zayne frowned at you, evidently puzzled. “Impressed? Is this not what a boyfriend typically does? I didn’t do anything special.”

Little did he know, he actually had. 

You were certain that you weren’t the only woman on the planet who had previously been made to feel inferior or shamed by others in regards to your period. 

There were so many instances where men—and even the occasional woman had mentioned it as a way of insult. Must be her time of the month. Time for someone to change their tampon. 

Once, you had accidentally pulled a pad out of your bag instead of your notepad in the middle headquarters, and every last one of your male colleagues avoided you for the remainder of the week. It was as if you were infected with a disease that would kill them.

Finding yourself standing before the exception was a shock to your system. A good shock. 

A real gentleman. 

You felt your eyes well up again. Tears of fear and worry had become tears of contentment. Finally, for once in your life, you were comfortable in the presence of a man during your cycle.

“I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed here whenever you stay,” he explained further.

“I love you,” you simply whispered back, a small smile curling your lips.

He still looked thoroughly perplexed at your reaction, like this shouldn’t have been something that was happening to you for the first time. Like every other man you’d ever come across will have treated you the way he has.

“I love you, too,” he said, cupping your face with his large, gentle hand. “Were you really going to leave?”

You nodded guiltily, feeling a little silly about your initial freak out. Something had been healed within your soul by his nonexistent judgement of your cycle, and even if he didn’t understand it, you were so very lucky and grateful to have a man like him.

He brushed away some of the damp streaks on your cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want you to go, but if you want to—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good. We have more episodes of Love Hospital to watch.”

“I thought we were watching Police Passion?”

He blew out a short laugh before dropping a tender kiss to your smiling lips. It made your heart feel warm and full, a feeling you never wanted to let go of.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said before taking his leave.

You took the wicker basket of supplies into the en-suite, the smile on your face not wavering as you studied it. He’d even put a rather pricey bottle of body wash in there for you, the description on the label claiming that its contents would soothe and relax you with scents of chamomile and jasmine. 

Everything was so tidily placed inside, a true reflection on how much he actually cared about your needs. Even a single incorrect pack of sanitary towels kept somewhere in the bathroom would have been enough for you to know that you didn’t need to be uncomfortable with him, but he’d made an effort. 

A serious effort that he saw as the bare minimum.

After picking out the best suited candidate in the sea of pads and tampons, you got yourself showered and sorted into fresh pyjamas from your bag. The cramping in your stomach started to bother you as soon as you finished getting changed, so you fished around in the basket for the unopened box of ibuprofen and a heating pad for the seizing muscles in your back.

Once you’d emerged from the bedroom, Zayne was nowhere to be seen in the living room. The area around the recliner you had both been lounging in all day was cleared and tidy, not an empty takeout carton or half drunk cup of tea in sight.

Making your way into the kitchen for a glass of water, you found him steeping a mug of raspberry leaf tea to aid your cramping. You quietly grabbed a clean glass to fill with water, popping two capsules of ibuprofen into your hand to take.

Zayne glanced at the clock to memorise what time you were taking this dose, in case you required another later on. “How are you feeling?”

You smiled softly at him. Despite the storm of misery striking through your body, you still had a reason to smile.

“Happy,” you murmured sincerely. “Despite the devil himself tearing away at my insides.”

He offered a small smile of sympathy back, pulling the sopping teabag out of your mug of tea to discard it. “Do you need anything else? I can go out if there’s anything you want,” he offered sincerely, not at all troubled by the idea of you needing anything more from him.

Good lord did you love this man.

“Just you, please,” you requested, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle back up with him until the painkillers kicked in.

He obliged your request immediately, picking up the steaming mug of tea with one hand and slipping your hand into the other to lead you back out to the recliner. Before you could seat yourself in the little gap beside him, he gently pulled you onto his lap.

You couldn’t help the little flash of panic that shot through you at the thought of sitting on him during your period, but he clearly didn’t care. His hands just got straight to work with the heating pad, placing it where you needed it the most.

The rest of the evening was spent with Zayne giving you some luxuriously soothing back rubs to ease the pain—which had quickly been alleviated thanks to the ibuprofen and tea—followed by your regularly scheduled make out sessions whenever his hands started to wander. There wasn’t an ounce of bother in him whenever he turned you to straddle his lap, his all time favourite place to have you. 

He wasn’t bothered by anything when it came to taking care of you.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending in a request, anon! I adore Zayne so it was nice to have a prompt for my first oneshot for him. 🩵

[gutsby]

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

Something about the sun in Cabo San Lucas and your best friend’s father’s sweaty body makes you a horny mess. When you find an old shirt of his lying around, you can’t resist. When Mr. Miller finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

[jawllines]

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

or

Harry and Y/N like being around each other maybe too much

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

Y/N wondered how many vampires she’d seen in her lifetime. 

Unlike the stories and movies, they didn’t lurk in the night and meld into the shadows all of the time. Their skin was pale, but no more pale than someone living in the mountains with very little sun. Their eyes weren’t red, or golden brown, or pools of black – they were just normal irises, no different than humans, the color encrypted in their DNA from conception. They were gorgeous, sometimes eerily so, but not in a way that you could easily group them by their features. It was comparable to being backstage on a runway – the people surrounding you were models, you knew that, and they were all beautiful in their own way with their own unique features. The difference is that instead of only finding them pretty in passing, it’s mesmerizing, almost hard to fathom, alluring in an almost unignorable way. 

But Y/N can’t remember ever being out in public and seeing a vampire, even if she didn’t know what they were called at the time. Clearly she didn’t, if one was able to ask her on a date and she’d just presumed she’d lucked out with an attractive man who didn’t mind dating below his league. Otherwise, they were masters of camouflage, or Y/N was just less observant than she thought. 

Because right now, even to the untrained eye, Y/N is almost positive that she looks like a vampire. Or at least that something is off with her. It’s in the way her posture is almost too correct, ramrod straight like someone straightened out her back and put her in a brace to keep her unmoving. Her chest did not rise and fall with each breath – not because the need to use her lungs had not been completely eradicated yet, but for the fact she’s taking a ton of shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, or anyone.  The way she holds her fork looks weird to her – she hadn’t held a fork in so long it was an unfamiliar weight between her fingers. She gave terse replies to questions, and could barely hold a conversation longer than small talk. 

To anyone looking or interacting with her, they must think she’d grown up in a basement and just recently ventured out into the world. To Harry, who sits across from her with an amused look dancing across his features, he knew she was just attempting to reacclimate into society. 

They had been out before, but normally that was at night, or early during cloudy weekdays when most of the city population is stuck in their stuffy office buildings. When the amount of humans is sparse and Y/N could amble away if being around them became too much. She’d never been forced to sit among them for longer than a couple minutes at a time, maybe waiting in a long line, or patiently off to the side when a human woman was interested in the same earrings that she was. 

That had been her toeing the water; Harry held her hand at the edge of a dock while she dipped her feet into the pool of being a productive member of society again. She would have to return to work at some point, and she would need to be able to attend social events or see her family, or her friends back home without wanting to eat them. Harry was surrounded by humans all day nearly every day and he hasn’t lashed out and ended up in a tabloid for sinking his teeth into a designer. It was possible, though it would take time, and a lot of practice – at some point she would be able to integrate seamlessly back into the human world. 

At some point – right now, it was fucking hard. 

Harry took her out for lunch, at a small deli a couple blocks from his flat. It was a day when the sky was heavy with clouds and would be for the majority of the afternoon, so they were able to venture out with no fear that Y/N would get all rashy again. All of Y/N’s fear lay within being in closed quarters with humans and pretending that the scent of their blood doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Or that the leaves of the salad she was stuffing into her mouth tasted more than just bland, rubbery nothing to a palate now keen on something metallic and sweet. And in that fear, and her overexerting her effort trying to look normal, she thinks she’s making herself look uncanny, unapproachable, and too much like she doesn’t belong. Like someone clipped her out of a comic book and pasted her in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Harry spoke from across the table, having already eaten half his sandwich, tucking the straw of his soda at the corner of his lips and sipping, “It looks like I just brought you out of a boarding school.” 

“Shut up.” Y/N had been saying that a lot to him today because it was two simple words that didn’t require as much effort as trying not to eat someone. 

Harry smiled, all too relaxed for what Y/N would think are pretty serious circumstances but she guesses he’s been through this so often he isn’t worried about a thing. Harry never seemed worried when they did something new, always promising her that he would know if she was going to do something stupid, because he knows her. And if the need to subdue her were to arise, then he could do so easily, or so he tells her every time she’s stressed about it. 

“You had plenty to eat before we came,” he murmured, voice just a touch lower, his brows raising slightly, “Even if you take a small little breath through your nose, you won’t feel like you need to do anything.” 

It’s difficult to talk inconspicuously about it, in case someone nosy was listening into their conversation (because Y/N is fucking nosy, so she knows someone else is bound to match her), but Harry does it easily. Y/N did eat a considerable amount before they did this, from the baggies, and even a little treat from Harry just before they’d left the flat. She was full, blood-drunk, and hazy up to the point that they were about to walk inside the shop and she’d worked herself up. 

“Mind over matter,” Harry slid his leg to her and locked their ankles together – he was resting his chin and cheek in his palm, watching her carefully, drinking her in, “Just take a small little breath through your nose, hm? You’ll see it’s not as bad as you think.” 

Y/N blinks at him, gripping her fork a little too hard, and she feels the stainless steel give beneath her grip, “I – okay,” she nodded, slow, steady – the whole point of this excursion was to start working on being able to smell humans without wanting to desperately sink her teeth into them. Before she could start utilizing feeders, she needed to be completely in control of how her body responds and reacts to stimuli like this. At least that’s what Harry tells her, and she’s inclined to believe him since there isn’t anyone to bounce off of his ideas anymore. She isn’t sure if they’re still on the pathway he used for all the new vampires he mentored or if he’d toggled it based on their situation. She could message Christopher and Naomi about it but every time she messages them, her heart yearns and aches in her chest.

“You’ll stop me if anything happens?” She knows he will, but she feels better when he’s all cocky and sure of himself. One of them needed complete faith in the situation, and it usually was Harry. 

Harry, who had been treating her all soft and tender lately. His words could still be harsh and he rolls his eyes and rumples his lips at her when she says something he thinks is stupid, and he’s patient, but even that patience runs out relatively quickly – but every interaction has a much softer edge to it. With every harsh critique of her technique or skill, (“How many times are you going to listen to the neighbor’s conversation and not me outside, downstairs, when you’re on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter how many flights up you are, this is baby stuff we’re trying to accomplish now!”) there is a gentle caress of her skin. His fingers will dance along her wrist, and he’ll slide his fingers between the slots of hers, and squeeze, before murmuring, “Let’s try again.” 

They are much closer now – Y/N doesn’t know if they’re dating, or if vampires even date, but she knows that Harry treats her like they might be. Harry pushes his nose into her neck and breathes in deeply like she’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He entertains her musings about code and work despite not having a clue what she’s talking about or saying. At the end of the night (early in the morning) when she is thinking about lying down, Harry offers his room to her, his bed. 

“You can always sleep in here,” he’d told her, “Even if I’m not here, yeah? Just don’t stain the sheets or anything, because to keep them this pristine even with a kitten has been hell.” 

Shit, he’s even referred to Leaf as their baby a couple of times, whereas previously he’s only called her his own. “What are you doing to my baby?” Is what he would say before when Leaf is playing with one of the many feathered string toys that Harry bought her and Y/N accidentally makes her jump right into the wall. Now it’s things like, “Our baby is so happy,” when she comes up to them on the sofa, purring and kneading at Y/N’s thighs before snuggling in her lap and falling asleep. 

Things with him were soft. This certainly felt like a relationship, sometimes, but Y/N knew better than to get ahead of herself. Last time she did that she ran away from her hometown and then got bitten by a fucking vampire, so it was better to just take things a step at a time. 

“What, you think I’m g’na let you eat someone and make me look bad?” He speaks low enough that only she could hear, helped by the loud chatter of voices around them, and stretches one arm across the table, looping his fingers around her forearm, and dragging the blunt tip of his nail along her skin, “Of course I’ll stop you, dummy.” 

Y/N shivers but feels safe; he’s got a leg wrapped around hers, and a hand on her. If she tried to move, he would stop her immediately. Harry doesn’t say aloud that that’s what he’s doing, but they both know it makes her feel better when he’s got his hands on her in some way. She’d told him as much in the past when she’d looped her arm in the gap between his and his body when they first went into the grocery store. 

“Hm, is this a ploy to make me touch you in public? You’re a filthy exhibitionist.” He’d teased her at the time, but now he keeps his hand on her when they’re out. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, a hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers looped around her wrist. 

She lets herself breathe in, just a little bit, a tiny inhale through her nose. The scents weren’t overwhelming like she’d thought – there’s plenty to sift through, it wasn’t just an onslaught of the blood pumping through the veins surrounding them. Fresh bread, the fabric softener on people’s clothes, the cleaner used to wipe down tables when they were emptied – she smelled all of that too. All a mix, like when she was a human, only she could smell and separate them just a note better than she could before. And the blood – she couldn’t smell blood before, but with a belly full, it wasn’t as hard. It still made her mouth water, and there was an itch beneath her skin that wanted to be plucked at, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Harry drags his nails back and forth on her forearm lazily, “See?” His relaxed posture stays, leaning on his palm, “You’re not a monster, are you, baby?” 

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, “No, I’m not,” she cleared her throat a little, “We need to –  um – we need to get Leaf chicken treats, she likes those best.” Y/N wanted to practice being normal, talking about normal things, and thinking about something else than how she’s trying not to breathe in too deeply. She didn’t necessarily explain this to Harry beforehand but he doesn’t seem confused either, just goes along with it. 

“Really? I kind of thought she liked the shrimp ones better.” 

Y/N focuses more on Harry’s scent – he smells good. He always smells so good, that whenever she does sleep in his bed, she dips her nose into the blankets and stuffs her face into the pillows (obviously when he’s not there, she would never live that down).  If she could shove her nose in the base of his throat and not stuff her teeth into his neck then she would do it all of the time. Harry does it to her, unprovoked and unannounced, burrowing the cold tip of his nose against her carotid. She used to squirm, her ear meeting her shoulder as she pulled away from him, but now she’s gotten used to it – now, she almost expects it when he comes home from work, and if he doesn’t, she’s a little disappointed. 

It’s easy to forget why she’s at Harry’s in the first place if she’s just focusing on her and Harry’s dynamic. It’s also easy to forget that she would eventually face the music when she has to confront her feelings – Niall. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders like she wore a helmet of cast iron everywhere she went; sometimes she would forget about it, it’d been so long that it was easy to let it slip her mind, but then her shoulders would feel the pressure of it periodically. 

Like when you wear glasses for the first time. At first, it is all you can think about, how it rests on the bridge of your nose, the way the frames outline your field of view. But a couple of hours in they’re merely an extension of you, you forget they’re on your face until you reach up to rub your eye and something is in the way. 

The helmet was heavy, the look in Niall’s eyes as he told her, the cold feeling that had flushed through her veins when he’d admitted it. She wondered if it felt like his own helmet had been lifted, the weight of his guilt eased by the admission. Did he know he was going to transfer it to her? Take the helmet off and plop it onto her head? 

Her heart was torn in two. Y/N wanted to hate him for it, she really did – want to cuss him out, scratch him, and spit on him – how did vampires fight? Did they bite each other? Do they punch each other? Kick, slap? Was it still below the belt to kick him in the balls or was that an appropriate fighting tactic? Harry had never taught her how to fight – she thought maybe some sort of combat training would be important down the line, but vampires don’t usually do that. Movies and books make it seem like it was a constant battle, always something going on that they needed to defeat. Vampires typically coexist peacefully, is the thing, and their only true threat are hunters but it’s often better to avoid them or flee the situation than to fight, at least when you’re new. As long as she doesn’t act recklessly then she wouldn’t have to worry. 

And in the same breath that she hated him, she owed him her life. It was a new one – a flawed one, no more flawed than her old life, but still a new life. She would have to change how she lives, eats, exists, and it’s scary – it’s so scary! But she was alive. She was still walking around, she could still work toward goals she’d set for herself, and she could find a place for herself in this world instead of bleeding out in an alley, still feeling lost and alone. 

Would she have walked away from someone in need how she expected Niall to? If she’d stumbled upon the same scene, would she have been able to ignore it? She couldn’t even ignore a fucking kitten meowing! So it was hard – her feelings were difficult to work through and that was only worsened by her not seeing him. Playing house at Harry’s flat and ignoring what happened. 

“Where’d you go?” Harry pulls her out of her reverie, and she realizes she’d been digging her fingers into the croissant she was holding, her eyes dazed. He drags his fingers along her skin again, tenderly, gently, “Hmm? Where’d my girl go?” 

Y/N feels warm and bubbly and allows herself to revel in the giddiness that comes with Harry treating her like something special. If there was one single benefit from this whole mess, it would be Harry – experiencing this homely side of him. Whether it be the connection through their blood, or their time spent together, she felt at complete, and total ease in Harry’s presence. If she was starting to spiral, he pulled her out of it just as quickly. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, swallowing, ripping a piece of the flaky pastry and laying it on her tongue – it tasted like nothing, chalky and bland, “I. . .need to figure things out with Niall soon. I can’t keep burdening you.” 

“You’re no burden,” he answered without a second thought, “Not even a little bit, but I understand needing to sort things out for your peace of mind.” He reaches forward, thumbing at the apple of her cheek, and pinching playfully, “But you don’t need to leave just for that, hm? You’re no burden to me.” 

Y/N rests on the palm of his cheek, sighing, and the smell of all the other humans in the place pales in comparison to Harry, “Mm,” she nuzzles – it’s embarrassing, how easy she is for him, but he doesn’t tease her like he probably could, “I just. . .I think, how I’m seeing it, is I would have done the same.” She explained, “If I’d seen someone, I would have done the same, you know?” Her gaze flickered toward him, “Would you?” 

“I have,” he shrugged, “You know, it’s something that you never really know what you’ll do at the moment but when it’s presented in front of you – that’s when you’ll know. You act off instinct,” he squeezes her shoulder, slipping down to her bicep, “Just how you ran to go save Leaf with no concern of the sun. This isn’t me trying to sway you either,” he shook his head, “If you decided you fucking hated him and never wanted to see him again, I would endorse it. If you decide that you’ll forgive him, then I’ll accept that – whatever you want to do.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she ripped another piece of croissant, “Yeah, okay.”

                                                                   .                          .                         .

Despite coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it still took her a week to gain the courage to see him. Harry doesn’t push the issue, merely enjoys his time with her and Leaf until she tells him she is ready. Honestly, there were a couple of times when Y/N wondered if she should just start ignoring it again and live life peacefully with Harry, or as peacefully as she could. But still, it weighed on her, like a Niall-shaped force that stretched himself over her and smothered her in her sleep. She had dreams of confronting him, some heartwarming and with a good outcome, some horrible that left her with tears bearding her eyes. 

She needed to do it. If she did, then she could better focus on whatever the hell is going on between her and Harry. And being a vampire. . .big, important things like that. 

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

She laid her hands on his thighs, “I need to do it today,” she told him, and she didn’t have to be descriptive for Harry to know what she was talking about, “It’s gotta be today or I won’t.” 

His gaze softened, the pale skin of his face smoothed over into something contemplative and understanding. There’s a soft sound that pulls from his throat, and his legs squeeze around her as he nods, “Okay,” he answered easily, “Do you want to ambush him or should I give him a heads up?” 

“Will he run away if he knows I’m coming?” 

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “You know, Niall isn’t one to run away,” he started, “But he also isn’t one to admit when he’s in the wrong either, and he’s done that, so I reckon some of the things I knew about him fundamentally might be wrong. He may flee from guilt alone or he’ll respect you enough to want to hear what you have to say.” 

“Then you can let him know,” she took Leaf, scratching the soft, short furs beneath her chin, “If this is a friendship worth salvaging, then he’ll wait for me.” 

The drive, which typically felt like an hour-long adventure out to the secluded space in which Mitch’s house resided, felt far quicker than it ever had before. Y/N thought it was because this time, she actually wanted it to go by slowly so that she had the chance to collect her thoughts and plan out exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She needed the full forty-ish minutes (accounting rush hour) to develop her script, but Harry must be pressing the gas pedal right down to the floorboards because they zip through the roads in record time. 

There’s a hazy, orange glow casting over the trees while the sun sank beyond the horizon, the other half of the sky blotching the inky black sky of a winter night. She wondered if there would be stars later on – there hadn’t been for the last couple of days because of clouds heavy with snow, that’s now freckling the earth and freezing up the soil. Y/N missed them – she feels like she hasn’t seen them in a while. 

They roll up in front of the house, and Y/N thinks all of three seconds go by before a pouting Naomi rips the passenger door open, “Shame on Harry for keeping you all to himself,” she whined, and she unbuckling Y/N before Y/N could even gather her bearings, pulling her out of the car and into her arms. Naomi looks a bit frail but she’s got the strength of someone who’s prepared for war, and she gives Y/N a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you!” 

Y/N laughed lightly, squeezing her arms out from where they’d been trapped between their bodies so she could reciprocate the show of affection, “I missed you too,” she replied. 

“Oi,” he grumbled, “I wasn’t keeping her to myself, I gave her a haven in a rough time.” 

“You never let any of us come over besides Christopher!” 

Harry crossed his arms, after pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, “Why would I want you heathens in my flat? The lot of you would trash the place or steal from me.” 

“You’re just no good at sharing, you –” 

Their voices fade into the background as Y/N leaves them to bicker, a tiny quirk at her lips like the muscles in her face want to smile but are thinking better than to. It was nice, sort of, to be back; to smell all the familiar scents, like she was returning home. This felt more like home than her flat did now, just from the sheer amount of time she’d spent here. She walked the familiar map from the front door, to her room, and nearly made a pitstop to give herself more time but muscled through the desire to. Y/N took the four more steps she needed to before knocking on Niall’s door – she could smell him in there. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds stiff, and when she opens the door, the position he’s sitting in matches it. He must have heard her coming because he isn’t in the lax state he normally is – his legs are off the end of the mattress, feet firm on the floor. He sits straight, his face serious, stern. She’s so used to the nonchalant way he goes about that this is the most uncanny and makes her feel like an agent sent to question him, or a judge to sentence him. Y/N hated that, she doesn’t want it to be like that – she wants it to be normal between them. Or, normal-ish, at least. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat paw chair sitting at the foot of his bed. Niall followed her gaze and answered before she could even question it, “I – um – promise I wasn’t stealing that,” he replied, “I missed. . .you know – having it in here made me feel a little better. Which I know, I don’t deserve to feel good about what happened.” 

Y/N ignored him, closed the door behind her, and then plopped down in the chair, resting her back on the pink, plush toe beans, “Get on the floor,” she ordered, patting the empty spot in front of her with her foot, “Please stop sitting so straight, it’s freaking me out.” 

Niall is quick to crawl down on the floor in front of her, he relaxes his shoulders so they slump just a little, and he kicks his left leg out how he usually did when he was sprawled out on the floor of her room and they were talking. It brings some normalcy to the situation that Y/N desperately needs. She bites the inside of her bottom lip for a second before giving an unneeded clear of her throat (it was just a habit at this point, she wondered how long it would take for it to break). 

“I’m just gonna come right out with it because I don’t want to beat around the bush, and if I do, I’ll just talk myself in circles until I don’t make any sense,” she started, “At first I was so mad at you I could have slapped you and spit on you and called you names. I was pretty sure that I never wanted to see you again and that I would be fine if you were completely wiped from my life,” he grimaces at the description but does nothing to refute it, “But you couldn’t have been wiped from my life, if I wasn’t living to begin with, which – I know, it gets a little confusing and convoluted. This life I have now is. . .odd, and different, and I’m not human anymore, and maybe by all technicalities I’m not alive, but I feel like I am.” She runs her thumbnail along the inside of her other palm, following the lines in them she’s had since birth, “I feel the world around me, and I can love, and I can talk, and laugh, and work, and cry. I can do all the things that I did before and then some, so even if it is different. . .I’m still alive. And I wouldn’t be had it not been for you.” 

Niall is following along, motionless, soaking in every word, “I’m more upset that you kept it from me. It would have just been nice to know, right? What exactly had happened that night, it’d been plaguing my mind and you would ask every so often, and now I’m realizing it was less from a place of care and more you covering your tail.” She shrugged her shoulders when Niall’s face scrunched with shame, “But I can’t sit here and act like I would do something different. I don’t know what I would do, in a situation like that – I think, if I came across someone in my position, then I would have changed them too. I don’t really know how at this point, but I would have tried to figure it out. And I would have been scared, afterward, I don’t know if I would have told anyone either. But I thought we were close enough. . .at least a month in, I feel like you could have told me,” she sighed, “That’s what makes me angriest. I thought we were friends but you were just being nice to me because you felt bad.” 

“That’s not true.” It was the first time he’d uttered a word since she began, “You – maybe at the start, I was a little more protective of you because I felt bad, but the rest of it – I truly felt friendship with you. Not all of it was a lie,” he shook his head, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but it never seemed like an opportune time to. And the one chance I did get, I chickened out. But I get it, if – if you need to be angry, be angry, I honestly wish you would just slap me or hit me or something, so it felt like I was getting punished for it.” 

“I wanted to, believe me, but Harry was pretty convinced that you were punishing yourself enough for it. Listen, what I’m saying is,” she crawled off the cat paw, and took his hands in her own – they were smooth and ice cold – he probably hasn’t been eating well, “My feelings are very conflicted and confusing, and I don’t know if I forgive you entirely, but forgiveness isn’t out of the question. Do you get what I mean?” Niall hums his assent, “I know things can’t go back to the way they were entirely, but I’d like it if we could get somewhere close to it. And – and if you think about it, we’ll probably be around for decades, won’t we? I’m bound to get over it eventually.” 

Niall and Y/N don’t really hug – Naomi is the touchy-feely type, and Y/N can be when she wants to be, but Niall is much more reserved with his affections. So that’s why she is tentative and a little hesitant in embracing him, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, but she’s pleasantly surprised to feel him hug her back tightly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his words vibrated through her throat, “I’m so sorry, thank you for even coming back to talk to me. I thought surely with Harry at your side, you would’ve hated my guts.” 

“You would be surprised by this, but Harry went to bat for you pretty hard,” she peeled back just a little bit, “I mean, he didn’t try to change my opinion but his of you never faltered.” 

Niall frowned, “Ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with hating him sometimes,” Y/N laughed, “Seriously, he’ll be the worst prick alive and then he does something unreasonably kind and it’s like. . .either be a dick, or be nice, I hate the mix-up.” He gently let his arms slip away from her but he remained close, “Speaking of, I’ve been eavesdropping on him and Mitch – they never hear me coming so I can always get away with knowing shite I shouldn’t – has he told you yet? About the whole blood thing?” 

Y/N shook her head, and part of her was worried that Niall would save it for Harry to tell her, but she forgot that Niall is Niall, and through and through, he loved causing trouble for Harry at any given notice, “After Mitch’s initial displeasure that he’d been keeping it from him, he said there was something called ‘fated pairs’ or something like that. Your bodies call out to each other on a molecular level, something that was – predetermined the day you were both born. There was a lot of vampiric folklore nonsense that he spouted off, but he seemed pretty convinced. I don’t know why it affects you both in the way that it would make you horny, but, yeah. He said that it would’ve been the same if you were human – even if you were both humans, actually. That it was like a soul bond.” 

It was a lot to take in; Y/N is relieved of one stress and then immediately another is placed on top of her. Was it stress though? She doesn’t feel stressed at the thought of them being bonded together by their souls – she doesn’t mind that – but she is stressed that maybe he minded that. Because as far as Harry was concerned, there was no rhyme or reason for their reaction to one another’s blood. Y/N hadn’t even known he’d spoken to Mitch about it, and so to find out he has and he didn’t even express the findings to her. . .worries her, a bit. Did he not like it? Was the thought of being tied to her horrible? But if it was then he wouldn’t have been so doting and cuddly these last few weeks, right? 

“You look stressed,” he noted, “I would be too if I was bonded to that fucker, so I understand.” 

Breathlessly, she laughs again, “He’s not so bad.” 

                                                                .                           .                        . 

Harry gets pretty clingy when Y/N goes back. 

Though he’d promised that she wasn’t a bother, she still felt guilty to be inhabiting his home when he was at work. She’d been hearing him postpone different trips too, a couple of days in Italy, a fashion show in France – things that he always went to before, and she had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone. It was sweet, but it made her feel guilty, so she decided it was okay to go back for a little while and reacclimate to the house. 

It wasn’t so bad – going from Harry’s modern, high-tech flat to Mitch’s Victorian-style mansion was different but it isn’t horrible. Y/N liked being surrounded by people when Harry was at work or attending some smarmy event, instead of being alone. The only downside was there was a little Leaf-shaped hollow in her heart, but Harry describes shared custody and drops her off with Y/N when he knows he’s going to be out all day or if he does have to leave for one of those week-long trips. 

The others act like she never left. She goes to the movie nights and nobody mentions what happened. Christopher gives her a big, long hug when he sees that she’s returned, then promptly warms her two mugs of “the sweetest blood” as a welcome home present. Naomi comes to inhabit Y/N’s bed and talks about pop culture and how Samuel is fucking someone who isn’t Theodore so that had been a lot of drama while she was away. Delphine starts to visit her room for Leaf – apparently, she’d grown up with a lot of barn cats, so she was very fond of them, and they find their shared love for animals as a link to start speaking more comfortably with each other. And wherever Delphine was, Saskia was close behind. Her past with cats was checkered because she had an allergy to them before, but being a vampire meant eradicating all allergies, so she hesitantly gave Leaf a pet or two. 

Leaf, all tiny and soft, loves the extra attention. 

Niall still comes to her room but not without being invited first. Y/N thinks eventually this will change, but it seems like he doesn’t want to smother her with his presence, though Y/N wouldn’t find it smothering at all. He’s still hesitant, and she gets it – Y/N liked that he respected her enough to let her decide if she was in the right headspace to see him that day or not. 

The only person who takes it hard and acts like it is the worst thing in the world is Harry. He never goes three days without coming to see her, and when he isn’t with her, he’s messaging her and calling her, asking if she wants to FaceTime in between flights. When he does come, he poses a strict, “Nobody bothers us” rule where he threatens to move her dresser in front of the door to ward off “unwanted” intruders (though they could all probably move the dresser anyway, they’re very strong). He crawled into her bed and pulled her into his body, dragging the blankets over them, “You smell too much like the others,” he’d grumble, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Hate it.” 

“You’re silly,” she’d respond but soaked in the snuggling happily — it used to be something they merely indulged in while she was asleep; before, Harry would only ever kind of curl around her or pet her or hold her when she was all blood drunk and full, seconds from slumber. Now he’s much more open and willing to do it whenever – when they were watching the telly, when they were on the ground and Y/N was painting her nails (“I should sit behind you, yeah? You can sit between my legs, and when you’re done with one hand, I’ll blow on your fingers to dry them,”) if they were outside on the deck, practicing whatever Harry had come up with for the day.He crowds her space like he was made to. If Harry was there, they’re glued at the hip, and that was just normal now. 

Y/N wondered if he would ever bring up the whole bond thing, but he seemed content not to. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him from letting her snack on his blood, which she sure only furthers the whole thing. So maybe he wasn’t concerned with it – maybe he was just seeing where it went. Y/N isn’t sure, but she’s usually good at ignoring things. If the other party didn’t want to talk about it then she wouldn’t either, it was never in her nature to press for answers. 

. . .when she was a human, at least. Being a vampire hasn’t changed her at a fundamental level, she doesn’t believe, but it has given her a new outlook on life, and a different perspective on some things. It was better to ask and get an answer that she didn’t want rather than continue not knowing something for sure. If she’d lived by that rule in the past it would have probably saved her a lot of trouble. 

So Y/N asks him outright, Leaf curled in her lap in a tiny furry heap, and Harry with his arms curled around Y/N’s body protectively. Nobody else was in the den – they were either in their rooms or out and about (with a strict curfew now, because of the whole thing between her and Niall – Mitch blamed himself for giving them a little too much freedom being newly presented). Harry suggested they utilize the tv then, instead of trying to watch it on her laptop screen. Harry tells her they should be at his flat, but since he was supposed to go three hours away for a photoshoot tomorrow, he didn’t want to leave her alone (it turns out he’d been postponing more than she had initially thought so now he was playing catch up – something about Spring deadlines and all of that). 

The screen clears as the next episode of the show they’re watching loads up, and maybe it isn’t the best timing or the best place to do it, but she has to ask before she loses her nerve. 

“Are we a. . .fated pair? Is that what it’s called?” 

She feels Harry stiffen behind her, his hold around her arms tightening only slightly as he processes what she’d just inquired. There aren’t a lot of things that could stun Harry, as long as he’s been around he normally has a response to anything and everything within a couple of seconds – but he sits with this for a little longer. His fingers, where they’d rested on her waist, began to play with the fabric of her shirt, plucking at the hem and fiddling with the stitches. The tension in the air is palpable, but it isn’t a horrible tension. Not something she wanted to run away from, at least. 

“Niall,” Harry finally muttered, like he’d been spending half of the time he was silent, trying to figure out how Y/N would have heard that, “That fucker is too good at masking his presence.” 

“Harry –” 

“I know,” he exhales, and Y/N thinks it’s funny that he does things like this not because he’s releasing a breath, but to express how he’s feeling. He nudges the side of her head with his own and dips his nose into the curve of her throat, his favorite spot, “With you at my flat, and with how you’d been eating from me still, the – how I felt for you was becoming concerning and a little obsessive. Not in like an obsessive “I’m going to kill her so nobody else can have her” way, more like a “I want to be near her and I’m forgoing responsibilities to spend time with her” kind of way. I don’t do that, for people, I’m not. . .so giving with my time, which makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. I have my time and they have theirs, even if it’s someone that I’m interested in,” he slides his fingers beneath her shirt’s fabric, his nails tracing circles into her skin, “But with you, I just. . .wanted to be around you. To be with you makes me feel calm; it soothes me like putting ice on a sprain. And for you to drink from my vein and our bodies react so intensely to it. . .well, it had to be something.” 

“I was glad to ignore it and just continue enjoying myself with you, but I was getting curious. And I knew you and Niall would make up soon, and you’re so concerned about being a burden all of the time, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on my offer to stay with me. This meant I was going to be coming around her, and being way more possessive and clingy than I ever have before and Mitch always knows what’s going on in the house. He would ask me about it eventually, so I just beat him to it.” He lifted his head, and his words were less muffled when he coaxes her to lean back against his chest more, “He went into the most intricate, convoluted discussion about molecules, and vampiric folklore, and I’ll be honest most of it went right over my fucking head, except for him saying that we were bound together by our souls. That whether we had met like this, or centuries ago in my village, while I was running from war, or had I just been some random UNI student sitting beside you in class – we would always have this kind of connection. It’s rare,” he squeezes her hips, “It’s a rare thing, a really rare thing, and it used to happen more often back in the 1600s but that doesn’t mean it never happens now.” 

Y/N cranes her neck to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brows pinched toward the center, and Harry reached out, using his thumb to press at the crinkle in her skin and smooth it out. 

“I wanted to, but – I don’t know. I kind of wanted you to conclude for yourself, if you liked me or not. I didn’t want it to feel forced because you knew about this. Other than my blood making you a filthy, horny little thing, I don’t know exactly what your feelings are for me. And I know – you told me you feel whole after you drink from me, but again, outside of that – outside of the blood, I don’t know how you feel.” 

Y/N thinks, that if she’d eaten recently, blood would be roaring in her ears and her heart would be thudding something fierce in her chest. It was one thing to have Niall tell her on a whim, it was another thing for Harry to admit it to her, all shy, avoiding her gaze and pressing tight and close to her body. It was another thing to hear him feel insecure about not knowing how she felt about him.

Because for Y/N, she’d thought she’d been incredibly obvious. She wanted to be around him always, she recognized his scent out of everyone anywhere, she felt safe when his hands were on her in some way, or even when he was just nearby. Even when he was short with her, or grumpy, Y/N had felt endlessly at ease. After what happened at the club, he was the only person she wanted to be around. The way her heart lights up when he calls her sweet names, or when she sees him for the first time in a while. How her whole mind swam at the prospect of him rather hurting his hands than letting anyone else see her vulnerable when she’d been in the sun. No matter when he lost his patience, or when he seemed upset, or even when he swore up and down that he shouldn’t be a mentor  – he was supportive, tender, and made her head feel melty and her insides gossamer soft. 

“I have plenty of reason to like you, outside of some bond,” she finally replied, wiggling in his arms to face him again – Leaf got up, stumbled out of her lap, then stretched with a silent yawn, “And it wasn’t just after eating. Just being with you makes me feel. . .complete, just as I said before. I thought it was just the blood, but when you leave for work and we’re separated, there’s a – it’s noticeable, the gape I feel in your absence.” Y/N curled her fingers up in his shirt, “I mean, how I feel for you, surpasses how I ever felt for Daniel, my old friend. As dramatic as it is, I’d thought I would never be able to love again –” 

“Oh, you humans and your theatrics,” he murmured with a laugh and Y/N smiled shyly, looking away. 

“-- but the way I’ve felt about you lately, I just don’t think whatever puppy love crush I had on him scratches the surface. Sorry, I wasn’t clear about it. I’d been so focused on trying to figure out my place in this world again and how to live life like this, that I hadn’t given myself a chance to sit and sort through my emotions. But they’re there – they’re real and scary.” 

Harry kisses her – she wasn’t expecting it, but she’d completely turned around in his lap by then so at least the angle wasn’t horrible. His lips are soft, and without the preface of something lewd, it is saccharine and chaste. Y/N shivered, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, practically molding herself into the shape of his body. It was good – Harry’s been treating her delicately for a while now, but this was different. Like he was kissing something important to him. Something that he wanted to handle with softhearted gloves. 

When they part, Harry kisses the corner of her mouth, then her right cheek, her temple, over her forehead, and down the other side of her face. They’re feather-light and ticklish but his arms cage her in so she couldn’t wiggle away, helpless but to giggle. Once he finishes, he hums low and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll be keeping you, so get used to this.” He admitted, and if he’d eaten recently, then his cheeks would have flushed pink the way they do anytime he’s sentimental.

Y/N nodded and hid herself in his chest. 

She didn’t mind that at all. 

                                                              .                        .                       .

Harry couldn’t wait to see her. 

He used to take great pleasure in his week to two-week-long trips out of the country for work, whether he was going to Dubai, Milan, Paris, or other places like it. Harry would gorge on international feeders and sex and all the adoration from people who question his otherworldly beauty and get lost in his sharp gaze. It was nice to be sought after, admired, to get his fill of all the blood he wanted. He thought it was a fair trade, for all those years ago, when he’d been scrawny and worthless to everyone. 

However, now? He just can’t wait to get home. Without the sex and the gorging, there actually wasn’t a whole lot to do in any of those spots that he hadn’t done thousands and thousands of times before. It was work, strictly work, and there was no sort of pleasure, apart from the gratification of seeing one of his looks trek down the runway. Besides that, there was only one person he wanted to sleep with now, one person he wanted to be adored by, and only one person he wished to get lost in his gaze. 

And she was thousands of kilometers away from him, probably coding some program that made no sense to his brain, in his sweatshirt that he made her promise to wear and those horrific (and endearingly cute) slippers shaped like cats that she picked up from the store in honor of Leaf (who liked to chew on them when Y/N wiggled her toes). Even on the plane ride back home, he wondered how he could make it quicker – if there was a way to travel even faster than a plane. He supposes he could run, his legs are quite fast, but if someone spotted him going a little too fast to be human, then that would be a whole other list of shit to deal with instead of just tucking himself into Y/N’s side. 

So as soon as he was finished up, the models had gone home, he’d given his statement for editorials, and he’d shared one glass of wine with a designer he really couldn’t be arsed to learn the name of (he’d drank with types like Chanel and Dior in the past, so the glitz and glamor of it now are easily lost on him) – Harry was on a plane and headed home. He used the in-flight wifi to watch a movie Y/N had suggested to him, but he was barely paying attention. How could he, when he was so excited to get home to her? 

It was crazy to think this was where their relationship had ended up. She used to be nothing but an obnoxious little thorn in his side and now all he wants to do is smother her with affection and give her his blood. Y/N was so important to him, it made his heart feel heavy and full for the first time in. . .well, he isn’t sure it’s ever felt this heavy and full before. The weight in his chest is unfamiliar, and at first, it had been unwelcomed, but he likes it now. It’s as if she’d curled her body around it and took residence there. She’s always with him, in that sense of it. 

The others had gotten used to it far quicker than he’d imagined they would. He expected more teasing as well, but they all like Y/N a lot, so he guesses to tease him is to tease her indirectly and they don’t want to. The most he gets is scolded that he isn’t good at sharing, and why should he be? Harry feels like he’d spent centuries waiting for her, now that he has her – doesn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? Especially after a week of not seeing her, Harry just wants her all to himself. That’s why he suggested that she come to his flat the first day he’s back, so they could be alone. 

So he’s more than happy, after the flight, after getting his shit from baggage claim and finding his car in the mass of other vehicles parked for overnight trips, and the 30-minute long drive from the airport to his flat – to see her just as he’d envisioned her. Only with a few additions; she wore the sweatshirt, and she had on these little shorts that were filthy (but she swore up and down she wore them because they were comfortable and not to taunt him with how little it would take before her bum was out), but tucked under her thigh was Leaf’s feather toy. Whenever Y/N was working, Leaf could go from sleeping peacefully at her side to the zoomies in all of three seconds, so this was her way of keeping her preoccupied – the stick was placed just precisely so that the feather and the string hung off the side of the couch for Leaf to jump and pull at. Y/N has pretty decent thigh muscles so she’s able to keep it in place without letting it move around too much. 

She has those horrible little booties on,  but she’s wrapped up in the throw blanket that Harry usually has wrapped around him – not for warmth, of course, but the way soft fibers feel against his skin is nice. He knows Y/N is not using it for that purpose because it touches nowhere that her skin shows, besides a little bit of her face. Y/N has it so close to her so that she can smell him, and Harry is just. . .so endeared by that he could scream. 

When he walked through the door, Y/N turned to face him with a big grin. She slid her computer out of her lap, and Leaf’s toy fell to the ground once she stood, carefully stepping over the kitten, and getting up on the other sofa so she could climb over it. She gets to him quicker this way, and her arms slink around his neck, and she holds him close, “Finally,” she murmured, “A week is too long.”

“You could always come with me.” He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes close – it was good to have her in his arms again, “I don’t think they’d mind a puppy backstage.” 

Y/N peeled away from him, flicking him in the center of his chest, “Shut up,” she threw at him, but it held no real spite, and her eyes were dripping in mirth, “Should I dress myself then show up?” 

“Oh, baby, please don’t – let me be the one to dress you.” 

It was nice, that back and forth, and had Harry not felt so keyed up then he probably would have started a load of laundry, showered, gotten in more comfortable clothes and they could have just hung out for the night. 

But Harry was keyed up – a week away from Y/N meant a week away from not only her beautiful brain, but her beautiful body as well, and he was missing the sounds she’d make when his fingers slid against her. How easy she was to rile up, the way she tasted on his tongue, how dripping wet she got from even just a little bit of Harry’s blood in her. It’s precisely why he’d eaten so much before leaving, and he’s sure she could tell he’d just eaten recently, with how warm his cheeks felt they must be rosy. And that flush on his pale skin is clear as day, especially how it slithers down his throat, and if he’s really worked up, it might splotch his chest. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Sweetheart?” He inquired – the icy little tip of her nose was enough to tell him it had been a while.

“Mm, I had some earlier, when I woke up,” she explained, “But I got distracted with work, so I haven’t since.” 

Normally, Harry might chide her for that, but he’s all too excited to offer his throat, “I have a treat for you then,” he placed his hands on her hips, walking her backward, “Get on the couch.” 

Where Y/N used to start on the side of his body and eventually make her way into his lap while she ate, she just crawled into his lap now to cut out the unnecessary jostling around. The weight of her in his lap is familiar, nice, and something he didn’t realize that he missed until he was away from her. She stretches her thighs on either side of him and scoots in very close; Harry is already half hard, and he isn’t sure if he’d been like this since he saw her, or on the plane when he’d even just thought about her. Whatever it was and whenever it was, he was definitely already getting hard just from the anticipation of her teeth in his neck. It felt like young adulthood all over again, when it wasn’t “mind over matter”, and Harry couldn’t help but get hard in three seconds from one thought. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, pressing her chest up against his, her nipples were already hard and Harry felt dizzy with the want burgeoning up from deep in his belly, “So much, and you were only gone for a week. It’s a little embarrassing.” 

“I miss you when I leave you alone for an hour,” he slides his hand on the nape of her neck and brings her closer, “Isn’t embarrassing. I’m flattered that you like me enough to miss me, even. Now take what you need, baby, I ate enough to fill you up.” 

The slide of her teeth into his skin never gets old, especially when it’s his throat. There’s a bite of pain, immediately soothed over by the euphoric feeling of it not only being a vampire bite, but a Y/N bite. The way she goes about it is still so tentative to start, and unsure, like she’s worried about hurting him – but the moment she tastes his blood on her tongue, all that vanishes. She moaned against his neck like she’d been starving for months and he’d finally come to save her, her fingers digging into his body wherever her hands lie. Harry can feel her inhibitions leave her, the way she gulps, drinks him down, and takes her fill how he wants her to. 

It’s always after a minute that Y/N’s body starts to move out of tandem with her. She hates that she starts rutting against him like an overexcited puppy, but that doesn’t stop the way her hips twitch and push closer to him while she’s eating. Harry’s hand slid from her neck, to meet his other at her hips, holding her still as she rolled her hips into him greedily. “Mm, it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Especially after not having it for so long,” Harry shuddered, closing his eyes as he melted into the feeling, “I bet your pussy is already soaked.” 

Y/N whines, and he can only imagine how debauched the scene must look from an outsider's perspective. Her hands slip under his shirt, fingers tracing along his stomach and when the muscles in his abdomen tense up, his cock throbs to match. Harry’s fully hard now, and he thinks he’s already leaking, dripping into the inside of his trousers because he was always one to forgo underwear when it caused lines in his pants. Y/N lines herself up with him, tucking him into the folds because her pussy just swallows these shorts up, and rolls into him, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Such a good girl, you can have anything you want.”

The times she bites his throat aren’t always for pleasure. Harry still tries to prepare her for the first time she will meet with a feeder, so each time Y/N eats she gets better and better. She’s learned to stop when she’s full and to not overstuff herself just because it tastes good. She also has learned to read the queues of the other person, that she might have had too much – it’d be different for a human, but she can tell by the way Harry might start feeling even a degree less warm than he began as. 

He isn’t sure what coaxes her to stop today. She pulled away from his neck and lulled her tongue over the little puncture wounds in his skin, before moving so she faced him. Y/N made a pretty sight with her hazy eyes and her mouth stained red. Before he could spend too much time admiring her, she fixes her lips against his, slips her tongue into his mouth, and oh fuck. 

She’d kept some of his blood in her mouth, so it filled his own when she kissed him, and his eyes all but rolled up to the back of his head. Who had taught her something so filthy? His cock throbs so hard in his pants and he’s leaking so much precum he’s wondered if he’s cum already – he’s sure it’s sticky and webby beyond belief around the head of his cock, and Y/N isn’t helping the matter, she’s just making it worse. 

Harry takes her by the chin, parts her lips, and makes sure they stay open. Without having to instruct her, she presses the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, waiting patiently – normally Harry places a couple of fingers on her tongue for her to suck and bite at, so he presumes that’s what she was expecting. But Harry couldn’t help himself, and if Y/N was going to be filthy, then he was going to be filthier, so he encased her tongue and her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled at it. When Y/N mewls, he takes more of her in, sucking the taste of him off her tongue while he pries at her little shorts. He was in no mood for her to get off his lap to wiggle them down, so he tore them, shredding the fabric. 

She makes a startled sound, mixed with a moan when Harry slips his tongue back into her mouth to kiss her properly again. Harry’s head spins when he backs away from her – they could kiss forever without needing to take a single breath (or they would be able to one day when Y/N really didn’t need to use her lungs anymore), but Harry wanted to look at her. Want to see her with lips bitten red and swollen, filled with blood that Harry kind of wants to knick with his tooth and drink from. He presses at her chest just a little so she stretches back, and he gathers the fabric at the bottom of her shirt in between his thumb and index finger, pressing it up her quivering belly. 

Her pussy is puffy and swollen and soaking wet, he would’ve thought she’d been touching herself before he’d come home. He can’t tell if he wants to bury his face or his cock into it more, but another hard throb suggests he’d better do the latter or he would cum hard in his pants. He uses his fingers to spread her open, showing off the engorged bud of her clit, chuckling brightly when it pulses beneath his attention. Harry is unsure what drives him to sink his fingers lower, get three of them wet then return to her clit to slap it, but he does, and the payoff is Y/N trying to close her legs around him with the most wanton of sounds. He does it again, a little harder, and Y/N’s hand comes to grab his wrist, “I’ll cum,” she whines like that was supposed to deter him, “I’ll cum if you keep going.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” He murmured, sliding his fingers through her juices and tucking them up inside of her, petting at her g-spot for a second before slipping them back out and licking her off his hand, “Want you to cum.” 

“I wanna cum with you in me,” she sounded like she was pleading with him, and Harry had always been a sucker for pretty girls begging, “Please?” 

Harry’s quick to work the button of his trousers open, pulling the zip and removing his cock from the oppressive confines of it. He’s harder than he’d even thought, but he was right to assume that he’d leaked so much precum it looked like he’d cum. The clear fluid oozes from the tip in a long, sticky line, filling up the dip of his hip bone. Y/N ogles him with awe-filled eyes, “Whoa,” she swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing up the underside from his balls to the tip, in a move he doesn’t think she means to be as teasing as it is, “You’re really hard.” 

“I know,” he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he throbs again, under her attention, in the coolness of the air. 

“Like, harder than I’ve ever seen you,” she states, and now her palm slides against his shaft, and she squeezes experimentally, looking between him and his cock, “And you’re so wet –” 

“Y/N,” he just barely holds back from whimpering, “No teasing, Darling, I need to fuck this into you or I’ll cum all over myself. You don’t want to waste it, do you?” He inquired, and Y/N shook her head, scooting closer, “Yeah, let me fill you up, Baby, want to watch it fucking drip out of you when we’re done.” 

She visibly shivered again, and Harry helped her lift and slide his cock inside of her. Y/N moans, her face pinches up from the pressure of him against her walls but she slips right on down like he belonged inside of her. Harry thinks Y/N likes the stretch – the burn of it, as long as it doesn’t border on too painful. She bottoms out, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smushes their lips together. The kiss is brief before she nips at his plush bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. While she does that, Harry presses his upper lip just above hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as she squeezes around him, accommodating his size. Her walls were velvety soft and smooth as they contract around him, the ridges and bumps something he’s set on memorizing. 

Her ministrations with her mouth go to his chin, she kisses then bites her way down his jaw, to his ear, laving her tongue over the little wounds that were no doubt closing and healing over by now. Harry offers her his hand when he realizes that she must want to bite something, and he’d made the right assumption when she fits his knuckles between her teeth and chews on him. Harry laughs as she starts to lift her hips, then drops back down onto him, “You’re so fucking cute,” he chuckled, “Should we get you a chew toy? A little bone for a puppy like you?” 

“Shut up,” her words are muffled around his fingers in her mouth but she’s riding him well. It feels so fucking good, Harry is holding onto every last bit of strength not to cum before her. A damning feat to accomplish when she finds the angle that hits that bundle of nerves inside of her just right – she clamps down on him, her eyes bead with tears as she fucks down onto him, and nibbles at his fingers. 

“Do you feel good, Baby? S’my cock stretching you out nice?” Y/N nodded, whining, “You can cum for me. Don’t you want that? Cum on me and I’ll fill this little pussy right up.” 

Harry shoves the sweatshirt up so it rests just above her bare tits, or at least enough that he can visualize them and then get one into his mouth. Her nipples are still hard, so pert and sensitive for him when he pulls them between his teeth and lulls his tongue in big circles around them. Harry alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, and Y/N goes from chewing on his knuckles to holding them uselessly in her mouth and moaning around them. Harry feels her start to cum before she can even tell him through these breathy little whines. 

He isn’t ashamed to say he starts cumming before she could finish – he makes sure to work her through it still, fucking through the point of overstimulation, his thumb lulling on her clit when he raised his feet onto the coffee table and started to fuck into her. Harry fills her up, his orgasm splinters through him so intensely that he thinks his vision whites out for a second. He’s throbbing so hard inside of her, he knows she could feel it each time, and in response to each one, she mewls and sighs as she finally starts to come down from her own high. 

Harry untucks his face from her chest just as Y/N drops his fingers from her mouth. He’s still tucked inside of her but his cum slicks out from around where his cock is plugging her up, too much of it to even keep inside. The feeling is a little atrocious as it cools, but the thought of what it must look like almost has him stiffening up again. 

Y/N all but collapsed onto him, and Harry oofs! dramatically, before wrapping her up in his arms. Her arms moved to hug around his waist this time, and she murmured something on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make out. She turns her head, so her cheek rests against his shoulder instead, “I said I really missed you,” she repeated, “I’m happy you’re back home.” 

A lot of responses run through Harry’s head, including, but not limited to I’m happy you’re here with me, I’m happy you’re in my life, I’m happy my cum is dripping out of you right now, I’m happy that our fates matched in this way, I’m happy that we have a kitten name Leaf, I’m happy our souls are bound together. 

Harry doesn’t though. He thinks them, and he smiles to himself when he replies with something that he’s pretty sure covers all of that. 

“I’m happy too.”