#look its the first time i put this much effort into the details and environment of a comic

[tortillasconsal]

I thought I should share my design for Jeff the Killer since I'm done with his headcanons

Here he is

Now my thought process:

I didn't do a lot lmao

Let's start with the biggest detail: his face. My first thought when I started Jeff was that I wanted his skin to actually look like it was lit on fire, I'm tired of fair skinned paper-white Jeff, give me scars and deformity.

His hair was the most complicated thing to figure out oddly enough. I wanted to add some bald spots but I also wanted him to keep an emo hairstyle and be true to the character, but couldn't figure out how. I'm not really upset at it because I feel like he could use it to cover up his face more for when he's in public.

I also struggled a lot with how I was going to draw it (the most accurate hairstyle is the one on the full-body drawings).

I feel like his hair would be very mistreated. It would have the texture of an old wig and a matted dog's hair, quoting the comment a friend made on my WIP post of this piece.

His eyes are now brown, because he took them from his mom let's say. I tried to stick with the blue eyes but I didn't like it, I did add like a white thing on them to keep the same effect blue eyes would have and to show the fact that he's almost blind because he almost got his eyelids burnt.

Now the clothes. So I just kept the white hoodie-black pants combo because its iconic, but I did my best to decorate it because it was very boring and it looked very flat in contrast to the hands and the head. But not too much because I don't want to have a very meow-meow scene aesthetic for my AU.

I mainly went for stitches, a patch and some wholes on his clothes to kind of show off how worn they are because I didn't want to go for too many accesories because that'd take away from the seriousness.

I wanted to add dirt and dubious spots on his hoodie but I forgor 💀

I was planning on skinny black jeans, but I didn't liked how the silhouette looked so I gave him some baggy pants. I think its better for him anyway, since some skinny jeans would probably irritate his skin a lot.

I did gave him a classic belt to keep the whole emo style around because I think that could show how he's still a young man who's into sad music and whatever emos like. To show some personality. There's also a chain to add balance to the belt and add depth to the pants.

I also wanted to give him a bandana (a paliacate) because I feel like it would be more usefull and also link him to his mexican background. I didn't add it because I forgot about it, but I do want to say that he would also use a bandana.

I wanted his gloves to have fingers because carrying gloves just makes more sense in order to protect his hands with all the killing, forest environment, carrying knives and guns and his sensitive skin. They didn't look good with fingers, because I didn't feel like putting effort on the hands so it just looked like a weird black thing that fused with the pants so I had to switch it up to fingerless gloves.

It makes sense with his emo style anyway.

I gave him a rosary to link him to his mexican and catholic background, I've seen a lot of alt people use them so I though it would be a nice accesory to give depth to his black tee's.

The rosary also has a deeper meaning, but it would be too long to add in this post so I'll probably do another one purely focused on it since it also involves Liu's backstory and relationship with Jeff.

Yeah, so this is the Jeff or my AU 🤙

I was originally planning on sharing this on the Headcanons post, but it got too long so I decided to share this on a separate post. And also to have something while I work on the other requests.

I might do the same for those characters as well, though it will take me more time since uni is giving me more and more homework.

[sneezemonster15]

Hello there. Not too long ago I was reminded of Naruto, my first anime, how emotional it made me, and looking at it after years with adult eyes.. as a teen, I felt very uncomfortable with SNS bc of internalized homophobia, but now, it's an entirely different story. I couldn't put down my phone after discovering your blog and I appreciate your unapologetic, detailed, thoughtful analysis so much. Maybe you already were asked this question, but what would you ideally wish for Naruto and Sasuke after chapter 698? How would the prophesied change of the shinobi world come to fruition? (You don't have to answer, still I'm happy to be able to read your thoughts. Have a good day.)

Hey.

Hope you had a good day too. :) Thank you for your response. I am glad I was able to communicate what I wanted and that it reached the reader. Heh. No seriously, I am glad. Today was a long day. Sigh.

Well, Kishi wrote the shinobi world as an apathetic world where nothing of significance, the way it was shaped by the narrative, came to fruition. All of Sasuke's efforts went in vain. Uchiha clan was not vindicated of the false accusation of summoning the kyuubi. Itachi's truth was hidden, and he still bears the entire condemnation of the Uchiha massacre despite the complicity of Konoha elders, Danzo and Hiruzen in it. Kakashi, the prospective hokage, still doesn't understand Sasuke or what he went through, much less understand the severity of Uchiha clan massacre and what it implies. He is still a willing tool of the system who follows the rules blindly. Even Sai, who never had a family, who grew up in a clinical environment completely devoid of any emotional expression or affectation, Root ie, even this boy realized what he was doing was wrong and promised himself never to follow rules blindly. Not Kakashi. In the end, he tells Sasuke to behave as if whatever happened was his fault. Was the massacre his fault? Was the kyuubi attack his fault? Was he wrong in killing Danzo? Was his wish for revenge for having his entire clan butchered while asleep so out of place when Kakashi allowed others such as Shikamaru to take revenge? Hinata and Sakura, both were rewarded for their insensitive and consistently unempathetic pursuance of Naruto and Sasuke respectively, when they should have been condemned. The elders are still revered despite their complicity in the massacre, their public personas clean and untainted. Hiruzen is still considered as one of the best hokage to ever live when he was literally the worst, having had an entire clan die under his rule with his complicity, this man who taught his students about the 'will of fire', a philosophy which was supposed to be about protecting the people of Konoha, and yet was entirely inconsequential at the time of the massacre. Him, a hokage. Useless. Complacent. A failure. A blight. He himself admitted his complicity in the massacre and yet was never condemned for it. He should have been.

The problem with suppressing the truth is that unless it is revealed, you will never know what went wrong. And it's important to assign blame to the guilty party and have them punished for it. That's how an ideal society functions. But the shinobi world isn't an ideal world. It's a heartless world. It's an indifferent world. It's a world where there's no true justice. Kishi never meant to write it as an ideal world. It was portrayed as a heartless and unjust world right from the beginning, what with its victims such as Haku, Zabuza, Amegakure orphans, Gaara, Neji, Naruto, Sasuke, Sakumo, Kisame, Oro's sound ninjas etc. And no one got true justice. Not one. Well, Gaara still got some resolution, but it was because of Naruto, and not this world. Most of them got some sort of resolution because of Naruto. But not true justice. Well, he is the MC, so he will be given the savior trope, but look at him in Gaiden and Boruto and in that extra chapter with the hokage ceremony. He is not himself. He is not enthused or excited about being hokage. He is a mere husk of his former self. He is not the same person that we know and love, entirely the opposite as a matter of fact. He capitulated to this world. Just like Sasuke did. It's heartbreaking.

The cycle of revenge only stopped because of Sasuke and Naruto, if it weren't for them, their world was doomed. And yet, they both live a miserable life post 699, just empty shells of what they used to be, having had their zeal and zest and individuality sacrificed at the altar of conformity. For the sake of their world. Living heterosexual lives in public. Being married to superficial and selfish women who don't even know their hearts or what they are truly like, who don't care for anything but their status and fame and looks, to have them as trophies.

Anyway, I have written about what you asked here. It may assume a lot of stuff, but it's what I wanted.

[ravioli-fries]

Mission at Macridge

This is a short story I wrote of Izzy and Rills first meeting! A young Grey Deer is on one of his first patrolling missions as a Magic Knight. He meets a curious 14 year old resident of the town.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------      My pounding heart woke me this morning! …At 6:00 am. Perhaps a tad early for a meeting time of 2:00 pm, but you can never be too careful, I think! I don’t suppose I could have gone back to sleep anyways. 

     Began my day by double, triple, quadruple checking my gear. Straightening, readjusting, and rearranging my outfit. Is this okay? Maybe. No… the gray of my robe may be a neutral color fit for any palette but it sure does ruin the whole idea I’m going for. No matter. 

     I skipped happily along the hallway, energetically greeting my fellow Magic Knights and plopped myself down into a seat to begin my wait for the knights of my group to appear. 

     Today is my first scouting mission as a Magic Knight! A squad is to travel to the shore town of Macridge, a large commoner town on the edge of Noble realm. Ah, what an experience; I lived on the opposite way of the capital so I never visited. Our mission is to survey the area and reinforce peace, a noble duty. 

     I laughed to myself. 

     After a few 10 seconds of kicking my feet I dug out my pocket watch. It’s 12:00 pm… my smile faltered. How embarrassing. 

     —

     “Nearly there. Hold it together Boismortier.” called an aged woman from her broom seat, draped head to toe with exotically detailed fabric. 

    The voice of my superior, Muriel Matildale, halted the drag of my finger through my picture creation that was currently keeping me suspended in the air.

     My daydream had left me in a slight daze, my train of thought stumbled awkwardly back into reality, “Aye aye Captain! Er. I mean Miz Mentor!” bringing my hand to my heart in salute, flinging the remaining magic on my finger into my face. 

     A chuckle rose from in front of me as I wiped paint from my eye. My partners hid their smiles under their hands. I decided to laugh with them. 

    We eventually touched down in Macridge. The atmosphere instantly took me! The smell of the sea, the streets bustling with arrays of people and shops selling its environment proudly. It’s a town located near a shore and the noble realm; of course it makes its money on fishing and expands on that theme. How fascinating. There’s so much personality!

     “Muriel?” A burly Magic Knight cocked an eyebrow, raising attention and pointing towards me. 

     Muriel waved her hand “Ah let the boy have it; he’s a noble shut in. He needs this to expand his… palette.” she smirked.

     The blonde gave the woman an annoyed look. I forgot his name… what did Miz Muriel say? 

    The recent interaction left my concern as a new detail caught my eye. What a beautifully crafted sign. The noisy environment around me melted away. I’d love to meet the artist behind this; it portrays the business it’s representing clearly, and easily catches the eye. I rested my chin upon my index and thumb. Using simple and organic shapes, yet it follows a strict pattern, perfectly balancing subjectivity and objectivity. Genius! Clean woodwork as well... The polishing could have had more effort put into it…

    My thoughts were interrupted when a body collided into mine. 

    “Oh! Oh, pardon me, I was just so captivated by this sign…” 

     A young girl stood before me, with a face as if she’s never made an expression to stretch it. She seemed stiff, like a doll, yet her appearance was so fluid. A ridiculous abundance of dark curls framed her small silhouette, creating an exciting composition. I followed her beauty marks up to her striking golden gaze that contrasted gorgeously against her dark complexion. 

     I blinked rapidly. Huh?

    Without changing her expression, a steady, deep tone came from her, “That’s a sign's purpose, after all.” 

     “Ah….” I stammered. Looks like my words only wanted to reside in my mind today. 

     Her eyes flickered like fire as she looked around… that fire seemed to warm my face as well. 

    “Looks like you oughta get back to work, mister Magic Knight,” Her shawl raised with her hand in farewell, “Bye.” 

     A moment of panic filled my body as she turned to walk away. I cannot pass up this opportunity! 

    I stepped forward and clasped her hands within mine, redirecting her body to me. Her stoic expression quivered for a fleeting moment as she spun around. 

     “May I please draw you? You’re so enchanting, miss! I have to draw you! I just have to!” I flushed in embarrassment and added, “Ah… Only if you’ll allow me…” 

     Our hands fell and so did my gaze. Her eyes widened ever so slightly. 

     Standing dangerously still, the girl finally spoke, “Sure. Why not.” 

     I eagerly brought our hands to my heart and a smile stretched itself across my face. “Woohoo!” I exclaimed, “Let us find a suitable location then!”      

    A nearby shop table a ways away called me over so I obliged, happily taking my subject with me. The unforgiving sea of people along the road had me skidding to a stop every few steps. Hand in hand she kept up with my sporadic pace without a sound. I really wouldn’t be able to tell she was behind me if it wasn’t for our joined hands. 

    We seated ourselves and I equipped my sketch pad and pencil, anticipation shuddering through my fingers. I gave her a grin, which she returned with a stare I couldn’t quite comprehend. 

     “Now, hold still! Of course; it’s okay if you can’t. I can’t ask too much of a stranger I just met, ahoo hoo!” 

     To my surprise, the corners of her lips turned up so slightly. “How pretty…” I breathed, charmed.

     “You’ve got a weird laugh. It’s funny, I like it.”

     I flushed. She likes my laugh…!

     “E-Eheheh…Why, thank you, miss...” I awkwardly shifted my weight in my seat, placing my leg over the other, “Let’s get started then, shall we?” I declared, winking playfully.

     The moment my pencil hit the paper my eyes aimed for her shapes. Every detail about her was so smooth yet bold. From the adorable curve of her round face to the satisfying loops of her dark hair. 

     What a challenge… curly hair is entertaining yet difficult to pull off. The sunlight that nuzzled itself into her locks made me wish I brought some color with me. It weaved streamers of a beautiful golden brown in her hair. My hand stopped, paused, then began back up again.

     Her body was draped with a shawl that clicked together on her left shoulder. Based on the decorative piece I can assume she’s of the higher middle class. The multiple layers she wore presented itself like window curtains for her small frame. 

     The girl’s lips formed a soft line accompanied by a beauty mark. Her thick lashes and brows were also in the company of them. 

    The entire time she sat so still. She could have been mistaken for a statue. I don’t believe she blinked once since I met her… It was actually a little unsettling. Her body did not express a single emotion, so I couldn’t help but gasp softly when my gaze met her own. 

     Despite the rigid gaze of her eyes I could see them alight with thoughts and ideas. Her eyes flickered so fast to study something, I felt the need to flinch every time she shifted her attention. Suddenly I longed to know more about her other than her appearance. 

    Those big almond eyes, filled with such contemplative golden irises. This stranger. She was absolutely gorgeous. She belonged in a museum.

     I gingerly brought my sketch pad to my face, shielding anyone’s eyes from the red that burned it. My silly drawing did not do half the justice to the real her. 

     “I… I'm done drawing.” I mumbled, defeated. I uncrossed my legs and placed the pad upon my lap.

     The girl rose from her seat, “Alright. I’ll get going then.” 

     Her words knocked me aback, “H-huh?! Don’t you want to see what I drew?!” I exclaimed.

     Her blink fluttered, “Oh. Right. Hit me.” She shifted her feet back towards me. My embarrassment returned with her attention. 

     Waugh! Why did I say that?! Now I have to show her!

     I shyly lifted my sketch pad across the table to her. Instead of taking it in her grasp, she leaned over to examine it more clearly. I couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the hair that fell over her shoulders with her subtle movement. The moment lasted a few seconds but the underlying shame clawing at my mind made it feel like an eternity. 

     The girl straightened back up and that same small smile graced her face yet again, “You got an amazing attention to detail, y’know.”

     I began to protest, “Oh… Oh but my drawing doesn’t begin to truly reflect the beauty of your overall image, I just couldn’t replicate the bold look of your eyes…” 

     Nope, wrong reaction, I thought, slapping myself mentally, “D’oh! How rude of me, I mean…! I’m sorry! Thank you! Erm… you can have it! Please!” I rubbed nervously at the brooch of my robe, “Thank you so very much for letting me draw you…! You’re like a dream…!”

      A cute laugh erupted from her, causing my cheeks to burn hotter.

     She shuffled around her cloak, then extended her hand, holding something out to me. My… my grimoire?!

     My hand flew to my grimoire bag, empty! My jaw dropped, wait, hat? When did she…

     My eyes widened. 

     The girl sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with her empty hand, “Fair trade.” Eh? Eh? Eh?! 

     Too astonished to act, I watched as she took my sketch pad and replaced it with my grimoire. She then carefully tore my drawing from the pad, placing it on top of my grimoire. 

     Her eyes narrowed and smiled with her lips, her eyes glittered with amusement. I blushed. 

     “See ya, Magic Knight.” Frozen, I watched as she stepped away from the table and melted into the ongoing traffic of people, gone without a trace.

     I brought my grimoire and sketch pad to my chest in a futile attempt to calm the furious beat of my heart. I was utterly and completely mesmerized by this thief… 

     “Well… as long as you’re done getting robbed, Boismortier.” A familiar voice sounded, followed by a hand grasping my left shoulder. My jaw agape, I looked blankly at Miz Muriel that stood at my side.

     “C'mon kid, we have work to do.” My eyes widened in realization, “Calm down! You widen your eyes any further, they're gonna pop out!” Muriel sighed through her nose, “I don’t gotta tell anyone about this. You can get robbed all you want, just don’t let it happen to others, deal?”

     I nodded wildly in agreement.

     “Alright. Let’s get going then.” I rose as Muriel started off into the crowd, and followed behind quietly, my mind racing. 

     A shaky sigh left my lips, what a first mission…

[cozycatboy]

i have so many rue and wuvvy thoughts after the most recent ep my head is going to EXPLODE

like i Desperately want to know more details about how and when they met. rue mentioned that they were taken from the mortal realm to the fey realm, and that courts rarely interact outside of blooms - so that leads me to think about rue, millennia ago, essentially being the wanessa of the bloom. perhaps before they donned their glamor- just a nameless, confused owlbear, practically a pet of the court of wonder. wandering around while some other member of the court ran the bloom, maybe going off into the woods for a moment alone, a moment to feel like they were somewhere more familiar.

meeting wuvvy, still a member of the court of hoof and claw, opening up to her about their situation and feelings around it. wuvvy seeing this vulnerability and establishing herself as a support unit after making that connection with rue.

and then rue gets assigned as master of ceremonies. creates a glamour to match the title. is introduced publicly to the other courts with this appearance, and rue the owlbear becomes an unspoken secret amongst those in the court of wonder who remember - though few payed enough attention to. but wuvvy will never forget. there are no secrets between them.

wuvvy watches rue run the event. even early on, their work is inspiring. the effort they put in to the bring the courts together during the bloom, to be prepared for anything, it entrances wuvvy. she spends as much time around rue during the blooms as she can, but it's not enough.

wuvvy leaves the court of hoof and claw for rue and only rue. their assistant. their confidant. their friend who they love and are loved by in return. "by their side, doing this, is where i'm meant to be".

their perspectives of the relationship are very different, though. especially as the power dynamic shifts more and more. wuvvy's devotion to rue only growing, i think that she actively imagines a future of them together, always at their side. whereas i don't think rue imagines much of a future for themself outside of their role as master of ceremonies and maintaining things around that. i think for a long time, rue is just...going along with things. resigned to them. they still very much appreciate and love wuvvy, but...

despite how the court of wonder has kept rue at arms length - i feel like its impossible to truly escape the social environment of the court, and the effects of it. i think rue has internalized a lot of the standards set by the court of wonder, walking the path that had been set for them to the best of their abilities, playing their part. it was never something that rue chose for themself, but still a role they spent so long growing into.

so of course, a breaking point comes.

suddenly, rue starts wanting things for themself outside of their duties. they act impulsively over these new and intense feelings. feelings that guide them away from the court of wonder, from acting as the master of ceremonies. away from wuvvy.

suddenly, they aren't able to trust wuvvy not to send the first letter they wrote to hob, going as far to use magic to force her to burn it. and god, how that must sit heavy in her gut like a sunken stone. they may stand loyal with wuvvy during the duel, but wuvvy does not miss the way rue looks at hob all the while. she fights with a poisoned blade. if she can remove him from the equation- even temporarily- maybe there's a chance they can recover. get back on track.

but andhera intervenes. and even if they hadn't, i have to wonder whether or not it would've been a futile effort for wuvvy, because i don't think hob was ever the root of the problem. would things have still worked between rue and wuvvy without hob thrown in the mix, considering wuvvy Chose her path to be with rue but rue never actively chose their own? and if rue had chosen wuvvy, what would have happened when rue eventually found that they didn't want to be master of ceremonies anymore? and even before that, i think at some point the lines between Friend and Assistant blurred for rue [something something don't date your boss] which made it so easy for them to use that command spell. impulse and emotion swayed rue so much, gave them such a thrill of feeling something new and different, that they completely disregarded the depth of their relationship with wuvvy, as well as crossed boundaries with her, to focus on hob.

ITS SO FUCKED UP and yet it feels so understandable and fitting at the same time given the circumstances (not in a justified way but in a The Dots Are Connecting way) i love both of these characters and im absolutely living. i can't wait to see what happens between them going forward, especially if/when rue finds out wuvvy destroyed their second letter to hob...OOF

[system-of-a-feather]

Dear Problematic Siblings; An Open Letter to Older Siblings Survivors from a Youngest Sibling Survivor

(TW: Some levels of emotional abuse, neglect and psychological abuse mentioned. Not sure what level of detail to warn since its that whole Trauma Thing where you don't know what is and isn't 'that bad' so just be careful if any of those are particularly touchy topics)

Don't think too formal of this writing despite the formal sounding title, this is a bit of an open free form letter I wanted to put out to those who have siblings you aren't in contact with or don't have a relationship with following an abusive childhood environment may that be due to having to cut contact for safety or bad blood from how you hurt each other growing up.

I am / We are the youngest of two sisters - one older by 6~ years, the other older by 4~ years and our household was unsafe since before I was born. In theory, my oldest sister might have seen the abuse arise, maybe my middle sister had a bit of time before plunged into hell, but I was born condemned. First and foremost, its important to acknowledge how even these few years have likely developed how we perceive our lives and our situation greatly; far more than either of us can probably have the conscious awareness of as - regardless of how old we were when we first faced it, we were still learning and forgetting a lot of things that would innately frame the way we see the others and the world.

To the sister that made my life miserable, to the one that actively attacks and bullied me, actively tried to silence me and turn my parents against me, actively made the already bad neglect worse and actively took away all of the very few to no resources I had; to the sister that told me I couldn't complain because I was "too young" to remember the worst of the trauma; to the sister that I threw out of my life for four years and refused to so much as be in the same room as or see for two years, to the sister I gave up on after she disappointed me by repeating the same harmful behaviors over and over again over the six to eight years I had made an attempt to come to an understanding and make things work with; to the sister who - after time apart and given independent healing - came to the realization that our lives and childhood sucked, that we both were put through, that over time realized that the there was a lot more to life than the petty stressors we had built a habit of fighting over; to the sister that still from time to time, when prompted with specific triggers, will still revert back to those survival mechanisms and begin behaving in ways that are similar to how she did when we were younger; to that sister, I understand and I forgive you.

It took a while to get around here - a lot of work of healing and a lot of time apart to work through, process, recover and grow from the damage I had sustained in childhood both at your hands and not, but I understand. We were both children and we were both trying to survive. Children being forced to survive like we did will almost always look ugly, will almost always make a mess, and thats not your fault nor mine. Neither of us should have been put into that situation, and I understand why we were that way before, I forgive you and I hope you forgive me for whatever slights I likely did while trying to survive myself. I also understand that just acknowledging and being aware of this doesn't stop the trauma and immediately cure the pain and wounds that were inflicted upon us, and while we might relapse into old dynamics, I understand and forgive you already so as long as you do the same back. Healing isn't easy and more than anything, the thing that I value and cherish most is that we both have reflected on our pasts and how they affect our present and have made active genuine effort to handle it. The past is in the past, and the future is what we make of it. I'll be patient with you if you are patient with me.

To my oldest sister; to the sister that saw my pain when I was seven and came to help me; to the sister that took responsibility for making my life good and making sure I succeed; to the sister that saw the danger I was in and became dedicated, obsessed even, with making sure I did better than she did; to the sister that sat me down when I was not even in middle school to plan out all my classes up until graduate school and planned to help me enroll in the military at age 14 to pay for my tuition; to the sister that wanted to see me happy all the time to the point of recognizing a complex dissociative disorder and intentionally triggering one part out regularly to make herself feel better; to the sister that trained me in the brutal world of capitalism and taught me how to live on nothing because she knew, for a certain, that no one would be there for me and made sure I knew that I was entirely on my own; to the sister that gave me freedom and protection from my parents in exchanged for the knowledge that no one would help me should I fail; to the sister that got me a bird when she knew she was going to leave me alone and unprotected; to the sister that taught me to dominate everyone and everything to maintain peace, safety, and control; to the sister who was extensively traumatized and scared who used me as a subject to project her anxieties upon with good yet selfish and inconsiderate intent; to the sister who both saved me from my parents, but also made the effects of the 10x times worse and more dramatic; to the sister who I defended for 21 years of my life and kept from being disowned 6 times when no one else in the family would stand up for her; to the sister who - upon the slightest push back and watered down critique to acknowledge the damage done - threw me to the side as a party not trying in the relationship; to the sister who doubles down and refuses to reflect and grow, I appreciate what you have done for me and understand, but I do not forgive you - nor do I see myself forgiving you in the near future.

The most I can hope for is that you, much like my other sister, when given time apart, will come to realize the damage that you have done. That you will come to realize the true shittiness of our lives and understand that by constantly running, by constantly living in the ways that we originally learned to cope with our lives, by perpetuating the trauma that we were born and raised in, by never looking back to move forward, we will never truly escape and live the life that we deserve but were denied. As much as I wish I could sit here with you and help you through this process, that would cost me my own ability to heal, to move forward, to grow. I understand that you were doing the best for yourself, and I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt that you did what you thought was best for me - growing up how we did was hard and you more than any of us three had to deal with a lot of it on your own and without warning. You were of an older generation - mental health information was not as accessible and far more stigmatized - people were more conservative and less progressive. I completely understand how and why it is that your pain had been redirected onto me; however, I can't see that you see that. You seem unable to see your own fault and folly along with the consequences I was forced to bare. I can not forgive you, if you can not acknowledge your part in this show.

To that sister, all I can say is I hope you heal. I hope you get better and I hope you see that life doesn't have to be a constant game of run away from the past and trauma. I hope that one day you will realize why it is that conflicts follow and case you around. I hope that one day you reflect on the past and realize how your pain had caused others pain and I hope you can still love and accept yourself anyways. I hope then that we can talk again and start anew, but until then, I can not forgive you.

To both my older sisters, I don't know what our childhood was like for you - I lived it, I watched it, I saw it, but I could never truly fullly understand or begin to fathom what it was like on your side of the table, so I won't act like I do any more than I need to understand that I don't need to hate you for the rest of my life. Our childhood was hard, harder than any of us can properly remember by the sheer nature of it. I don't wish to hold bad blood over things happened in the past that will only get further and further in the past until they disappear to irrelevancy. I don't wish any ill upon either of you (excluding the acute moments when you really piss me off and/or we trigger one another****). I truthfully hope we all can heal, move on, and live our lifes regardless of how bad our first two or so decades of our individual lives have been. We are all survivors and thats something to be respected of.

Sincerely,

The Youngest Sibling

[animehouse-moe]

2024 Anime Catchup

I know I've been extra silent here, but I was really enjoying my time off at the end of this year (before getting sick). Of course, that means I was slacking while the Winter season got started up, culminating in this little catchup thread.

No, there's not really anything crazy detailed or important in here, but I just thought I'd share some brief thoughts on these opening episodes for series that I've watched as I catch up to Winter 2024.

Ishura

This first episode of Ishura was a bit of an eye-opener; neither in a good nor bad way. It mostly made me aware of the style and approach that Passione is aiming for with the series as a whole.

The goal seems to lean into the out of house CGI with Sanzigen so that they can deliver on the 2D front. And really, I don't have too much wrong with that. Both ends of the animation are really good when they need to be. They might be a little slow or odd at times, but when it counts they show up.

Which is more than what I can say for composition and color design. It's inconsistent, at times rather lazy, and causes a lot of problems for how people will view the episode.

In its isolated parts, they each do really well, but put together you get a lot of dissonance. You get static background characters that look considerably better than the leads, you get a massive CGI golem with no shadow or blending with the environment. It becomes a struggle to tie it all together, and that weighs down on the creative storyboards and direction, the incredible environment art and overall art direction, and even the impressive action animation.

It's a mixed bag, but if you can understand that it's a single piece throwing a wrench into things rather than the whole picture, Ishura has a pretty solid first episode that promises great things.

A Sign Of Affection

A Sign of Affection has, by far, the best first episode of this bunch. Incredible in every sense of the word, they deliver a powerful and positive declaration of Yuki as a protagonist and where her story will go.

Sound design is the first thing that springs to my mind in terms of praise. Incredible awareness and thoughtfulness to express Yuki's hearing impairment in a non-invasive or overly explicit manner. It's just flat out great how many little details and additions they work into the episode to add to the experience.

Similarly, the character acting as a whole is incredible. Anime tend to cheap out on phonetics with character mouths, but A Sign Of Affection holds on and puts incredible effort into making lip-reading feasible with the series (which presents a unique challenge for dubbing). Really really great effort to add to the heart you can feel in the episode alongside the passion for incredible sign language.

And then there's the general praises. Art direction and environment art is beyond wonderful, the character designs are incredible for a first timer, and the boards and direction are really great.

Every last piece works incredibly hard to present Yuki's story as a University girl with a bubbly personality and a penchant for fashion before they choose to depict her as a girl with a hearing disability. It's a huge distinction to make and really sells it as the fact that Yuki's condition is not tragic, but rather much like every other aspect of her, is just another facet of her character. Yuki's character arc stems from her personality and existence as a person, and that in turn ends up expressed at times with her hearing disability.

Before Yuki is conscious of herself as hearing impaired, she's conscious of herself as the sort of quiet girl that doesn't have too many friends, the girl that might be awkward when interacting with the boy she has a crush on. It's just so wonderful to see, especially at this level of quality. Absolutely cannot wait for the next episode to air!

Delicious In Dungeon

In a sense, I'm disappointed. Not at all by quality or output or anything like that, just style.

I mean, it's Trigger- like hell they'd ever put out anything even remotely subpar. It's great work, amazing, even. The work with food in this first episode is impeccable, the character designs are great, and the color design is wonderful.

But I can't help but feel like this could have been done by another studio, that this doesn't have that feeling that only Trigger could do it. And because of that I'm a little sad. The silly and excessive nature of Delicious In Dungeon absolutely lends itself to Trigger's approach with anime, so seeing it benched in favor of a much more subdued and reserved style has been a bit of a blow to my hopes with this series.

Though, the Red Dragon at the start screamed Trigger, so there might yet bet hope. It is only the first episode after all. I'll certainly be enjoying regardless, but I will probably be stuck wondering about what might have been with Trigger if they don't really go all out.

Also, the OP was a huge disappointment to me. Only a single sequence of food, which we don't see being made and we can't discern from the sequence. A baffling decision considering how important and central food is to this series.

Pon No Michi

I really didn't expect much out of OLM for this, especially considering their lackluster key visuals and PVs. I was comfortably surprised.

When in motion, the character designs work really well. They're expressive and are used quite often with effective character acting. The color design isn't as offensive as I expected it to be, though the OST can be somewhat grating.

The real standout effort with this original though is the direction and humor. Both add an incredible degree of enjoyment to the series. The boards are very creative and place a lot of focus on perspective, and interestingly enough hands (this series is about Mahjong so makes sense), and the humor always finds the right times to interject with a reference or two.

The most bizarre piece is the sparing use of CGI at the Mahjong table. It looks good, and is well isolated so as to not stick out, but it makes for a curious case of use.

Still, it's overall far more than my expectations, so I do hope that OLM holds onto this quality throughout the season.

Demon Prince of Momochi House

I don't have too much to add here really. The character designs are very divergent from the manga and speak to the rigidity of their designer, the environment art is really nothing to look at, and the animation struggles at times.

The saving grace is a few good ideas, which is all I think the season will be good for with this. It can be creative, but the output just isn't at a satisfactory level (which I did expect).

Certainly a let down for fans of the manga, but I think it'll accomplish its mission of advertising the manga well enough. It just doesn't have much else it'll be able to do past that.

[justkpopjokes]

Guns, Cupcakes, and a Taste for Murder

Ft. Mingyu + Wonwoo + gender neutral!reader (not ship)

AU: crime novel writer moves into a new town and becomes roommates with a culinary student and a medical examiner

A/N: based on a writing prompt I can no longer find :’) unfinished wip but I thought I’d post anyway!! I do have ship and/or horror ideas for this, so maybe in a part 2!

WARNINGS: mentions of death/murder/blood/corpses, not rlly detailed tho dw

inspired by this photo :)

You’ve recently moved into a small city that’s known as a particularly spooky one with a lot of crimes in its past and present

so… why did you move there?

because you’re a crime writer! why not immerse urself into the crim environment lmao

living on the edge i see

Your specialty is both fiction, adapting nonfiction thriller stories, and reporting on real crimes

so why not put yourself on the front lines?

you don’t have much furniture to worry about because you move around a lot, so might as well

When you were looking for places to live in this town, you had 2 choices:

1. live alone and risk burglary and possibly murder if you’re really unlucky

2. find some roommates and risk them being a murderer

ultimately you pick the latter because it’ll be cheaper and you might get ideas for characters based on them!

You find an apartment near the middle of the city with two roommates

ofc for safety, you meet up with them before moving in to see what kind of people they are

One is a medical examiner and the other is in culinary school!!

their names are Wonwoo and Mingyu respectively :)

Both men are pretty friendly, trying to make you feel welcome

probably so you don’t leave immediately bc they need to pay rent lmao

Side tangent, your past books are v popular under a pseudonym

so Mingyu & Wonwoo don’t know you’re a decently well-known writer 👀

but u want to keep it that way since you just met these guys, so you make an effort hide the fact that you’ve written some books that Wonwoo’s seen in the bookstore

You’re actually pretty flattered that Wonwoo has one of your books lying around

when you mentioned your career during your first meeting, he joked “I wonder if you’re as good of a writer as the author of this book I’m reading”

and uh. yeah you are u wrote the book lmaoooo

he actually trained as a cop and detective first though so hehe he’s onto you~

And SPOILERS that’s the crux of your time in this city:

Everyone is hiding something.

being from another city, your secret is simply your identity as an amazing writer and journalist

but the residents of this city, including your roommates, have secrets that are far from simple.

Wonwoo’s first ‘secret’ is revealed early on

he mentions he trained at the police academy and wanted to be a detective before becoming a medical examiner

he simply grew interested in the medical aspect of investigations he was helping out with

so yeah, your identity won’t be kept secret for long!!

Wonwoo finds out pretty quickly that you’re a popular writer, he just doesn’t know which one

literally just googled your name and found nothing so he’s adamant on finding out your pseudonym lol

he means it in a friendly way though because he’s interested in what kind of books you write, so he doesn’t try to pry too much

though he does try to spark conversations during dinner time lol

Wonwoo works long hours, so you’re usually at home with Mingyu who goes to class rather than working

Mingyu on the other hand told you he used to worked in his family’s “large company” for a while right after high school, so he has enough money to go to school without working

he had the option of living alone because he could afford it at first, but Wonwoo is his best buddy so they room together

then he decided to use his spare money for his tuition bc he never wanted to work in a big company again

said it was too tense and serious all the time and it almost killed him to work there for so long :(

Due to Mingyu being home more often than Wonwoo and you being home almost all the time, you chat a lot with him

you only really go out to run errands or get inspiration + fresh air

as well as the occasional visit to places where famous crimes have occurred if the news company you’re semi-under asks you to write about a real crime

meanwhile Mingyu devotes most of his free time just cooking or baking

(the kitchen/living room is ALWAYS filled with delicious smells!!)

So when you’re taking breaks from writing, you sit at the kitchen table with your notebook to jot down the occasional idea while you chat with Gyu

Mingyu even buys a tall chair so you can sit on the other side of the kitchen counter while he cooks/bakes

he insisted on it so that “we can make eye-contact and I can entrap you with my good looks ;))))” according to him lmao

you just go along with it and write a suave character based on him in one of your story ideas

Your main source of reference, though, comes from Wonwoo!

although he can’t give you exact details on cases he’s investigated or examined corpses for, he still shares his police/detective-training stories and what it’s like to be a medical examiner

you’re super interested in his experiences, which is one of the things that tips him off that you’re probably a crime writer

Mingyu whines that he wants some attention too LOL so y’all chat a lot together during dinner, which is the only time you’re really all together

There are days that Wonwoo has off during the occasion there isn’t a case he’s solving, but those are rare

whereas Mingyu has a strict schedule for classes unless there’s a holiday

So sometimes you’re home alone

you’re glad to have some time in a silent house

but it also often feels too silent. :// hm.

like the boys know to give you space and peace & quiet while you’re writing, but it feels odd not to hear them moving around in the other rooms

so it’s especially jarring when you first hear sirens go off near your apartment

you can’t seem to see where they’re coming from either???

you have a feeling that the rest of the city is quiet enough that the sirens could be miles away and still be just as loud

Mingyu comes home to find you visibly shaken and makes sure to calm you down with a hug and a nice meal!!

his arms are nice and warm :)))

…however, you finally start to realize he’s hiding something, just like you are

people might get wounds on their hands from a knife slipping while they’re cutting vegetables

but they certainly don’t get scars on their entire arm from cooking

you make the smart decision of not bringing them up, especially during a tender moment

but you keep that in mind while you start to learn more about your roommates

Anyway, back to the quiet home thing—

during those breaks Wonwoo gets, the house usually feels just as quiet as it is when you’re alone

you can hear him move around but that���s about it

you don’t want to disturb him, since it’s usually his only time to really relax, but you also want to get to know him a lot better

talking to Mingyu all the time is great ofc, but it feels like you’re neglecting your cat and giving all your attention to your puppy, yknow?

So during one of his break days, you go up to Wonwoo’s bedroom door and knock while he’s inside

he opens it pretty quickly wondering if something’s up

You: “No, I’m fine. I was just wondering if uhhhh I can chill with you?? I’m feeling kind of lonely haha”

Despite your doubts, Wonwoo gladly invites you in!!

His only condition is that he doesn’t talk about his job

which is kind of a bummer to you lol but you don’t want to burden him with thinking about his job any more than he has to

So whenever Mingyu’s out, you spend time with Wonu in his room

sometimes you’re not even talking, just doing your own things

it’s more comfortable with someone else in the room to occasionally make small talk with

Wonwoo even helps you with writing sometimes LOL

it’s mostly just you muttering about how to write a scene and he gives feedback on it

there was one time you were writing your detective protagonist in a very odd crime scene and were unsure how they would find evidence in that situation

and Wonwoo explained how their standard procedure went during a similar case!!

afterwards he said he said that although he doesn’t want to talk about his medical examiner job, he doesn’t mind talking abt his old cases as just a rookie cop

so then you start going to him to double check things!!

you emerge from Wonwoo’s bedroom one afternoon right as Mingyu gets home from class and Gyu goes all Jealous Puppy Eyes on you lol

MG: “Excuse me??? Have you been spending time with Wonwoo behind my back :((((“

You: “Lmao relax Mingyu, I was just catching up with Wonwoo. Besides, I talk to you more often because you’re home more”

Which makes him very happy lmao

anyway that’s the end of this fic for now!! I had more ideas but I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it 😅

here was the plan though:

Mingyu is actually the son of the head of a crime empire

After he got into trouble in his last big ‘job’, he gives up his criminal life and moves in with Wonwoo (his friend from school who was a cop at the time)

Wonwoo, feeling like he couldn’t be a good cop if he was living with a criminal, decided to quit the police force and work as a medical examiner so he could be friends with Mingyu still while having a good conscience

also there was a side idea I had about you (reader) writing a story where a culinary student is actually like. a cann!bal or smth alfdhjs and then Mingyu is internally like “HELLO?? i haven’t eaten ppl but are u onto me being a past criminal asdfljkh”

anyway there’s a murder nearby and Gyu’s family is wanted so when someone breaks into your apt to talk with Mingyu, Wonwoo has to protect all 3 of you since Mingyu doesn’t want to get wrapped up in crimes anymore

[alecbicheno]

Blog post 7 - Is realism worth the effort?

There are two factors to consider when discussing realism within videogames, the graphics, and the gameplay. Both of these have a significant impact on the overall quality and reception of the game which I am going to break down.

Different art styles

There are different kinds of graphics you see in games. There is the stylised kind which can be broken down into a few different types such as Cel- shading which can be seen in games like Borderlands (2009) and its sequels, giving a unique look to the characters and environment, or the exaggerated kind which you can find in games like Sea of Thieves (2018) where lots of aspects of the game look exaggerated. Then there is realism, which is what lots of AAA game studios strive for. An example of this would be Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III (2023) and the previous instalments of the franchise, which aim to have realistic graphics with each new instalment.

Is realism worth it?

There are generally two opinions when it comes to graphics, the first is that graphics should be as realistic as possible, and the other thinks that graphics are overrated. I’m of the latter opinion.

Good graphics are much easier to achieve nowadays, so having a good-looking game isn’t as much of an achievement as it used to be. So, there’s no need to waste time and effort on creating amazing graphics and instead the resources should be spent on crafting good gameplay, narratives, characters, etc.

Furthermore, it’s worth noting as technology evolves all the effort put into creating these incredible graphics could be obsolete by next year, as the constant hunger for detail will inevitably lead to better ways of making said graphics.

More to games than realism

It’s also important to consider the level of realism in the gameplay and how much it actually contributes to the overall experience. For example, Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018) was criticised for being too realistic, which I can attest to. There were many mundane tasks to complete such as cleaning guns to maintain them or feeding your horse to keep it in good health, as well as quality of life issues such as having to go to your horse to change weapons. This is essentially having realistic gameplay for the sake of it, instead of it contributing to the overall experience. It takes away from the fun of the gameplay by having to do these monotonous tasks, especially when we usually play games to relax, but instead get agitated by the very thing we are trying to relax by doing.

However, when we compare this to rockstars other game Grand Theft Auto V (2013), realism is out the window. While there is some sense of being grounded in reality, there are some ridiculous stories, weapons and vehicles all for players to enjoy, hence why the game is still played over 10 years later.

My practice

To re iterate, I think that the movie like quality of realism is an unnecessary thing to strive for. It does not need to be prioritized in game development, which allows efforts to be directed at other aspects of game development like the story or gameplay which would take the game further. Simply put good graphics don’t make a good game.

Bibliography

Anon., 2020. How RDR2 Prioritizes Realism At The Expense of Playability. [Online] Available at: https://screenrant.com/red-dead-redemption-2-realism-extreme-boring-controls/ [Accessed 5 December 2023].

Fox, A., 2019. Why Video Games Should Abandon Realistic Graphics. [Online] Available at: https://www.forevergeek.com/why-video-games-should-abandon-realistic-graphics/ [Accessed 5 December 2023].

GEARBOX SOFTWARE. (2009) Borderlands. [DISC]Xbox 360. Novato: 2K

RARE. (2018) Sea of Thieves. [DISC]Xbox One. Redmond: Microsoft Studios

ROCKSTAR GAMES. (2018) Read Dead Redemption 2. [DISC]Xbox One. New York City: Rockstar Games

ROCKSTAR NORTH. (2013) Grand Theft Auto V. [DISC]Xbox 360. New York City: Rockstar Games

SLEDGEHAMMER GAMES. (2023) Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III. [DISC]Xbox Series X. Santa Monica: Activision

Warner, N., 2021. Sometimes games that are realistic…are worse. [Online] Available at: https://www.destructoid.com/sometimes-realistic-games-are-worse/ [Accessed 5 December 2023].

Zentler, R., 2022. Game On: Video games don’t need to look realistic. [Online] Available at: https://www.spokesman.com/stories/2022/mar/17/game-on-video-games-dont-need-to-look-realistic/ [Accessed 5 December 2023].

[theonemyleejongsuk]

ARTICLE INTERVIEW‼️

[Elle] ELLE CHATS WITH BIG MOUTH DIRECTOR ON WORKING WITH LEE JONG SUK AND YOONA AND THEIR CHEMISTRY TOGETHER

It’s official. Big Mouth has ended its final episode over the weekend and we’re all going through the routine K-drama withdrawal symptoms. Repeating certain episodes, listening to the OST, and scrolling past TikTok and Twitter for snippets of epic compilations.

More than just another Korean drama, this series was a twist on the done-and-done-again crime noir genre. Bringing dark comedy and a stunning lineup to the show, director Oh Choong Hwan knew exactly what he was doing when he casted Lee Jong Suk and Yoona for the roles of the leads.

keep reading👇

Here, Director Oh delves deep into the show and shares why he casted them in the first place, what their chemistry was like, and the experience of working with the two of them.

Was there anything new that you applied in the production of Big Mouth that you’ve never done before?

As this is a genre that I am trying for the first time, I put a lot of thought and consideration into how things were going to be shot, the lighting of each scene, and the editing techniques and scene composition. The choice of camera lens and and lighting on each character were all different from what I was used to. I put a lot of thought into maintaining the characteristics of the genre, but at the same time finetuning the preferred tone.

The series features a star-studded cast, including Lee Jong Suk and Yoona. What were your considerations when casting the two leads and what went through in the actual casting process?

I had already worked with Lee Jong Suk for While You Were Sleeping, and because I had great memories back then, I’ve always wanted to work with him again. I think Lee was looking for a straightforward, strong character and this was something that fit him well. As for Lee Jong Suk, since I have so much trust in him as an actor, it felt like to me that I had a good friend beside me even though I was challenging a new genre.

For Yoona, I immediately thought she would be the perfect fit for Ko Mi Ho when I read the script. It wasn’t just me, but also Lee Jong Suk who plays Chang Ho strongly recommended her or this role. Ko Mi Ho is a tricky character where you need to find the right balance when speaking in a straightforward fashion and not rub the other person in the wrong way. Since I felt she was perfect for this character, I offered the role to her and she did an amazing job bringing the character to life.

How was the chemistry between the actors (especially the two leads who play a married couple)? And what were some memorable moments on set?

Since the two actors knew each other from when they were young, they created a very friendly environment on set. Chang Ho and Mi Ho, who are the characters from the show, are also long-time friends turned into a married couple, so I think their friendship helped with the acting. I think they express a friend-like couple in a way that there is that trust from the years they’ve known each other. The thing I remember is that Lee Jong Suk is relatively a shy guy and when shooting scenes where he needed to act all charming or express affection for Mi Ho, he was very shy. However, even that was natural for them.

What are some special characteristics that both Lee Jong Suk and Yoona have to play each of their characters well? And what were some of the things that you newly learned about the two through this series?

Lee Jong Suk is great at acting in fun and cheerful roles, but he really shines when he acts with serious, and desperate emotions. I think his detail and level of immersion is very unique. His character Chang Ho often faces a life and death situation within the show, and I was just amazed at how Lee Jong Suk expressed those situations and emotions through his acting. And then I learned that his acting was not just something created on the spot, but something he completed through years of effort and practice. I’ve felt it from the previous series we did together, but Lee Jong Suk is someone who puts a ton of effort into his work, and he clearly proved it on set for Big Mouth.

For Yoona, she has a mysterious positive energy about her. In tough and hopeless situations, she would be someone that brings energy to everyone, and it almost feels like she would solve everything. Her character Mi Ho is similar. Mi Ho is strong, and we felt that in Yoona, as she expressed her positive energy in acting her character and did a great job.

You’ve worked with Lee Jong Suk on While You Were Sleeping. As a director, what kind of actor is he to you and how do you think he has grown since While You Were Sleeping?

I feel Lee Jongsuk is a very detailed, and smart actor. He has a great ability to analyze the entire show and his character. I am always pleasantly surprised when working with him. And this is why I can fully trust him and instead of our director-actor relationship, we discuss various matters together as colleagues. It was the same during While You Were Sleeping, but Lee is someone who always puts in his best effort and is a reliable colleague.

This is the first time you’ve worked with Yoona. What were some of the things that surprised you the most and what potential did you see in her?

I’ve been a long fan of Yoona through her work in TV series, films, and also Girl’s Generation. I think her biggest appeal was the positive energy and strength that she shows on the screen, and I actually felt that energy during shoot with her as well. Even off camera, Yoona is a person that is positive and gives off a lot of good energy. And above all, she is someone that puts in a lot of effort both on and off set.

What is the most memorable moment of this series?

There’s a scene in the series where Chang Ho decides to become the Big Mouse in order to protect his family and shouts at the warden with a thunderous cry. Before the shoot, I talked with Lee Jong Suk that this scene would be a very iconic scene for Chang Ho emotionally throughout this series. And it was a scene where I thought about Lee Jong Suk more. Later I heard from Lee Jong Suk that this is the scene that made him decide to take on this role in this drama, and I really think he did a great job showing that character.

Big Mouth is different in tone compared to some of your previous work. What were the reasons for taking on this new genre?

It is not common to direct in a tone close to a noir in a TV series. To be honest this kind of genre is not a major genre in Korean drama and I think it is because due to the nature of the TV platform, dark content is not too preferred on TV. In my previous works, there was a lot of focus on bright and fancy scenes. And with that, I’ve developed a lot of interest in darker genres. I thought a lot about making dramas in such genres but something that many people can easily get into and enjoy.

Big Mouth is available on Disney+

📸©️ disney+

Source🔗https://elle.com.sg/2022/09/19/elle-chats-with-big-mouth-director-on-working-with-lee-jong-suk-and-yoona-and-their-chemistry-together/?s=09

19 Sept 2022

Thank you for sharing🙏

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[crescentmoonrider]

some details from my recent comic (mostly environment)

also, stuff that hit the cutting room floor and isn’t present in the actual thing

[link to the comic, it’s 5 pages of kekkai sensen noir AU]

so, as some might have noticed (and as i said in the tags of the comic i think), i paid A Lot of attention to the details and environments in this comic. so i thought i’d explain some of the stuff i had in mind while drawing

surprisingly, i have nothing of importance to say about the brick wall (on page 1) i spent over 5 hours on - aside from it being bricks bc, well, new york, man

or, as the artistic director for the bbb anime Kimura Shinji said : “the most emblematic buildings in new york are from the time when art déco was “in”” and “the image of the 70s new york was the one that satisfied me most [in terms of mood]”

(ive got loads of interviews with the anime staff that came with the dvds i bought, though in french, but if anyone is interested i could translate some of them)

anyway that’s what i looked up for reference. 70s streets, emblematic new york architecture (meaning bricks and side stairs or whatever these things are called), some noir movies back alleys to fit the theme of the AU, and four new york taxi photos for a result that is

... yeah

details i do have loads to talk about though !

this poster (on page 2) is based on an actual ad for the city of new york, featuring the empire state building

so why did i choose to put this element in daniel’s office ? obviously, the setting is hellsalem’s lot right ? why keep an ad of a city that basically doesn’t exist anymore - plus, what kind of person keeps an ad of their own city ?

(also, side note, is- is the huge building that we see tumbling down at the start of the Collapse in the anime. is it the empire state ?? did the empire state get scraped from new york/hellsalem’s horizon right as Mr. Kimura said he based his backgrounds on this kind of architecture ?)

anyway, this poster was my way of slowly building up the... let’s say static state daniel is in, in this AU. page 3 mentions “The constant numbness that’s been following [him] for the past three years.” and that was my attempt at introducing this idea environmentally

this daniel refuses to move past the disappearance of marcus, refuses to accept it, and that form of denial kind of leads him to get. stuck in place - or maybe stuck in time, leading me to

this glass of water (page 2 still)

how long has this glass been sitting here ? who knows. a while, certainly, if the way it’s sweating is any indication

how long has daniel been standing looking at nothing through that window, stuck inside his thoughts, until reality calls him back whenever a client walks in ?

how many times has it happened ?

on the same desk, we have... quite a few pictures

(yes i put effort into this detail explanation, yes i redrew the pictures for this one)

(also i realize i put the pencil on the left side out of habit, so i guess daniel is now left-handed. ooops ?)

on the center of the desk, we can see... Leonardo Watch ? yup, that’s him, he has a file dedicated to him, and daniel apparently followed him around enough to get 4 pictures taken on various occasions, and one mugshot he got.... somewhere

daniel is, in fact, not working on a case relating to leo. officially. alright, so, i haven’t figured out the way everything fits together, but daniel’s search into his brother’s disappearance lead him places, among which research into Things You Can’t See, and as such, the eyes of the gods

pictures 1-3 are just leo in various situations (meeting up with nej, eating at diane’s dinner, waiting for his train)

picture 4 shows leo on a bench, obviously interacting with.... someone ? who cannot be seen. even though leo clearly has his arm over their. shoulder, probably. daniel annotated the picture by hand, circling the empty space at leo’s side, and adding the commentary “doesn’t appear on photos?”, indicating that whoever was there could, in fact, be seen by human eyes

(leo, what the fuck kind of friends are you making in this AU)

on the right side of the desk, literally put aside, is a file full of daniel’s official work. and a picture related to his most current case

not explicit, or even implicit, but probably a fun fact, this one file is just. a collection of investigations into one Zapp Renfro’s many affairs, each investigation related to a different case

i’m not saying zapp keeps daniel fed through his many infidelities, but i’m not not saying it either

if they ever actually meet, daniel is either going to shout at zapp forever for being a garbage person, or he will thank him for all the easy work. or he might do both

so how did daniel take these pictures ? did he use a portable camera, like any old-fashioned detective would ? or did he go the modern way, and simply used his phone ?

the answer is neither

welcome to “i couldn’t fit this in the comic so just take it”, featuring daniel’s left eye ! my headcanons for his canon self vary from day to day (and also whether we’re talking manga or anime, since his design slightly differs), but in this AU, we’re going with a huge scar and an artificial eye

the eye is a product of beyondian technology. pure tech, no magic involved. it works as a covert camera, but mainly serves as, you know, an eye

sometimes daniel sees people with his right eye that the left one seems blind to, and something tells him he should probably not ask about it if he can avoid it

next page !

those who saw me post my progress in real time already know this one, but i still can’t get over the fact that i put research into a single shot of a small part of a watch. but i did

anyway the watch is an actual existing one. it’s a Boucheron “Epure”, steel with a white quadrant, and a black gator bracelet. you can look it up

and now we get to the One thing i really, really wanted to put in the comic, but had to refrain myself out of a desire to keep things not too cliché. i mean, shady client comes in, detective thinks to himself “the moment i saw him, i knew he was trouble” while dragging on his cigarette...

look, steven is heavily femme fatale (homme fatal ?) coded already, and is trying to look decent and Not like he murdered someone/is planning on murdering someone, because that’s precisely the problem he needs daniel’s help with. murder accusations

anyway he can not decently show up in a fur coat looking like some mafia boss

but BOY do i wish he would

[ilyrafe]

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, a brief panic attack, forced kiss.

word count: 3,2k

taglist: @runawayolives​​ @kmuir1​​ @marytudorbrandon​​ @lharrietg​​ @shittingdicknipple​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @mis-lil-red​ @amberangel112​​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​ @radaofrivia​​ @scarlets-widow​​ @ragamuffin285​​​ @thereisa8ella​​​ @​​titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo​

a/n: shit goes down from now on just saying..........

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

his guilt and conscience do not allow him to fall asleep and rest in his bed. if he wants to be civil and reciprocally, he needs to recognize when he is in the wrong and apologize. she didn’t do anything wrong, he shouldn’t have set such high expectations.

he puts on his robe and goes to the duchess’s chambers. strangely, he thinks it is a good thing that her room is far from his, just so he has time to think of the right words. it’s not the first time he’s been intimidated in her presence, and stuttering in front of her seems pathetic.

he takes a deep breath and knocks three times on the door. to his surprise, beatrice answers the door. 

“your grace.” she bows to the duke.

as he steps into her room, he smells roses and cinnamon, a different combination of scents, but just as pleasant. he can’t help but look into the duchess’s main environment, which is lit by candles in certain places. there are books everywhere and flowers from the garden that he recognizes. her dressing table has few items, just a small jewelry box, a brush, and a few hairpins, but her desk has lots of papers and a small leather-bound notebook that looks like a diary. being the curious creature he is, he’s already starting to wonder if she writes about him.

“charles?” y/n’s voice calls out to him, and she looks a little confused as to why he’s in her room in his nightwear.

she runs to put on her robe, even though charles saw her more exposed than usual. sensing her presence is no longer needed, beatrice excuses herself and leaves the duke and the duchess alone. charles mentally thanks the young woman as she leaves, because privacy is what he wants the most right now.

“i owe you an apology.” he starts. “i admit i should not have been rude to you at dinner, i hope you will forgive me. it will not happen again.”

once again, she can hear the sincerity in his voice. perhaps the image she has of charles is twisted. what if she is wrong about him?

“i owe you an apology, too.” she admits.

“what for?”

“for the way i have been treating, or mistreating you these past months.”

seeing her in a position of vulnerability is nearly shocking. it’s not even that much exposure from her, but charles sees her as a tough person, and hearing her words comforts him, because just like her, he feels sincerity and honesty in her apology. more than anyone else, he knows how hard it is to admit when you are in the wrong.

“oh, do not worry. you have your reasons and i understand.”

“even so, i shouldn’t have been such a monster to you.”

“it is all in the past.”

a small smile appears on her lips. apparently a white flag indicating a truce had been raised. charles says goodbye and goes back to his room, no longer feeling the pain in his back as he is always tense in the presence of y/n. his shoulders are relaxed as is his posture. with a smile on his face, charles goes back to his bed and for the first time since he got married, he sleeps peacefully.

(...)

a few weeks have passed, the eighteenth birthday of king henry’s new wife, katherine howard, approaches. the friendship between y/n and charles just blossoms, which makes the duke happier. conversations over dinner gradually linger, and making her laugh is almost a duty he gives to himself. it’s the most pleasant sound, and he finds it adorable when she covers her mouth when she laughs a little louder than usual.

they have a quite a lot in common. contrary to what she assumed, charles is far from arrogant. in fact, he doesn’t seem so fond of so many formalities. the way he talks about his parents, who are sadly deceased, is a little disheartening. he seems to need approval from others constantly, something she can relate to.

little by little, y/n manages to humanize in her own head the man behind the broad, strong body that charles has. there’s a sweetness in his blue eyes that she has been allowing herself to notice.

it’s difficult to get more information about her, though. y/n is very reserved and still prefers to spend most of her time by herself, which bothers him a little, and he still notices a little sadness in her eyes. he’s almost positive that something still disturbs her and he tries to make her feel comfortable enough to open up, but all of his attempts have failed.

give time to time, he keeps reminding himself.

(...)

the birthday party is grand, something the court and guests await. king henry always goes out of his way to show off to his subjects. the royal castle is a dream of gold, the most expensive flowers are everywhere, only the best food is being served, and the guests wear their most sophisticated attire. the king is ecstatic over his sixth wife, he will never spare any effort to make her happy.

the carriages keep arriving and more and more people enter the king’s castle. in one of them is charles and y/n, and both are as well dressed as the others in the royal court. y/n’s dress is stunning, and it’s completely different from the ones she’s ever worn in public. its rich emerald tone compliments her entirely, and the pearls in her hair soften her youthful appearance. charles is as well groomed as she is, but he opted for a monochromatic black attire, which makes him look even more imposing. regardless, they look complementary to each other.

“do not be surprised if male attention is focused on you.” he comments with a subtle laugh.

her puzzled expression cheers him a bit. he knows what is said about him and his wife, both the nasty comments and the most lustful ones.

he helps her down from the carriage and, with arms entwined, they enter the royal castle. as they are announced, all eyes turn to the couple. the king, upon seeing his longtime friend, goes to meet him with a proud smile on his face. the duchess’s distaste for the king is clear, but she knows how to hide it, for the sake of etiquette. after greeting each other briefly, charles and y/n follow to the main table, where the king is reunited with his wife.

“oh, you must be y/n!” the queen cheerfully says, properly ditching said etiquette. “your dress is marvelous!”

“thank you, your majesty.” y/n smiles.

the bubbly nature of the queen is pleasant; even charles thinks she’s quite funny with her antics. the age gap between her and the king is quite alarming, but she seems to be what holds him down a bit.

the music is loud, and the guests are all over the ballroom, either dancing or talking. for some reason, y/n feels unquiet. maybe it’s the heat, the loud noises or the constant glares she gets from other women. they don’t even try to hide when they’re obviously gossiping about her. she’s not entirely aware of her ‘fame’, but she knows she’s the subject of many conversations.

enthusiastically, the king taps his cup with silverware, drawing the attention of all the guests.

“first of all, i want to thank you all for coming to my beloved wife’s birthday, your majesty, the queen.” he says and hears applause for the sweet queen katherine. “happy birthday, my love. may the next few years of your life be as beautiful as you are.”

katherine blows her husband a kiss and he raises his wineglass to the guests. everyone raises their glasses and takes a sip, celebrating the queen’s life.

“i wonder how long this marriage is going to last…” charles comments under his breath, only y/n is able to hear, and she chuckles in response.

“i give it a year.”

they exchange a look, and when the music starts to play again, a few of the guests begin to dance in pairs.

“would you grant me a dance?” he asks.

as she looks around, she sees that her attention is focused on the king and queen. a dance won’t do any harm, she thinks.

“of course.”

he takes her to the center of the room by her hand, and soon they stand opposite each other to dance. if his memory serves him, he’s never been this close to her, and he takes this moment as an opportunity to really get a closer look, maybe he notices a new detail on her beautiful face? if he could, he’d spend hours memorizing every detail of y/n, because she’s so stunning, and with every observation she makes—of any subject—she becomes the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

y/n, however, is fighting all of her instincts. she doesn’t quite allow herself to look at charles. even though they are in a peaceful territory, he’s still the man who has been with her friends, he’s still the man who accepted her father’s offer to marry her in exchange for a mere position at the court. she’s certainly noticed his looks, and can’t deny that he isn’t as awful as she made herself to believe, and now she knows he’s an excellent dancer.

he guides her so masterfully and firmly, she feels safe, even though she isn’t very fond of dancing. regardless, he makes it feel pleasant. his eyes doesn’t leave hers for a second, but she looks around every now and then.

that’s when she sees a very familiar face, amidst all these people. one she would recognize anywhere, but the spin of the dance makes her lose sight of the person.

“is everything alright?” charles asks.

“yes…” she replies, toneless.

the dance continues, faster now. small heels mark the final part of the dance, and the noise of several shoes on the floor makes her uncomfortable. who is that person? the rhythm of the music picks up, people are talking loudly, the dance gets more energetic, and all she wants is to recognize that face. it can’t be.

she keeps searching for that face, but there are so many people in that ballroom, it’s pointless. the dance is making her feel a bit nauseous, she even contemplates leaving charles on the dance floor by himself, but when he bows down to her, she realizes the dance is finally over.

finally!

when they return to the main table, henry calls them to introduce them to the duchess of jämtland. even from afar, y/n can see how different the duchess is. pale complexion, light, straight and fine hair, bright blue eyes. she can’t help but compare herself to her. beside the duchess is her husband.

james.

the face she had seen. it’s him.

“charles and y/n, i would like to introduce you to my friends from sweden, your grace annika and her husband, james.” king henry says.

with each step she takes, y/n’s body freezes more and more, her heart beats faster and faster, and her breathing gets shorter and shorter. james is not at all shocked, more like afraid. only he knows the reason for the terror on y/n’s face at that moment, as much as she tries to hide it, he knows her better than anyone else in that room. she cannot move a single finger to greet the duchess and her husband.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” charles says to annika and kisses the back of her hand.

when he turns his attention to james, y/n feels like fainting. as if her two worlds are about to collide.

“this is my longtime friend, charles, the duke of suffolk and his wife, y/n, his duchess.” henry says.

“it is an honor to meet you, your grace.” james says, repeating the same gesture as charles, but now with the woman he once promised to love forever.

y/n is unable to move throughout the entire greeting process, and the situation only gets worse when she notices the annika’s subtle bump, which she doesn’t seem to hide that she is pregnant, as she takes her belly in with her hands.

“they are here to visit my kingdom and james is possibly going to war with us. sweden is our partner against france.” henry informs charles, completely unaware of the history between james and y/n.

“my apologies,” y/n speaks, trying to regain herself. “i’m not-”

“would your grace grant me a dance?” james interrupts.

he looks at charles with a silent request, and the duke looks at his wife.

“she doesn’t require my permission.” charles explains.

“ah, of course! a dance! charles, take annika to dance, james, you take y/n to dance. let’s all dance!” the king shouts, clearly a little inebriated.

everyone gathers in the center of the room and starts dancing.  y/n’s hands are shaky and a bit sweaty, and james tries to soothe her with his gaze. he tries to apologize, but knows she will never forgive him. after everything that happened between them… it’s almost impossible to believe it.

“i can explain.” he mumbles.

“don’t.” she simply says.

her odd behavior hasn’t gone unnoticed, though. charles has never seen her so pale before, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. he glances at them, and he knows she’s on the verge of tears. he isn’t dumb — it takes charles less than a few minutes to realize that james is the man y/n claimed to love, months ago. the way they’re looking at each other is more than enough proof.

“y/n, please.”

“she is with child.” y/n’s voice trembles with her own affirmation.

james is heartbroken, more than he was when they saw each other for the last time, over a year ago.

“we can still be together.”

his speech outrages her, and she is forced to withdraw. she runs as fast as she can to the large and vast garden of the castle, and hopes that no one will find her, but charles and james have gone after her, and a small commotion is caused in the hall, which is quickly contained. the poor swedish duchess is left confused.

she feels that the walls are getting tighter and tighter, or maybe it’s the dress that is too tight on her body that doesn’t let her breathe.

breathe.

breathe, y/n.

only when she manages to get out of the castle and into the huge garden is it possible to hear the silence and breathe fresh air, no matter how cold it is. it’s behind a big tree that she finally stops running. her chest is tight, beating faster than ever. it’s all so disappointing and confusing, she just wants it to be over.

she thought she had experienced pain before, but now it’s different. a mixture of hatred and disappointment washes over her like a wave, and she reduces herself to tears. the more she thinks about it, more tears roll down her face and her heart feels tighter.

she hears footsteps approaching, and to her surprise, james finds her. he looks just as haunted as she is, and he’s panting from running so fast to find her.

“my love-”

“no!” she protests. “you betrayed me, james! how could you?!”

“y/n, please…”

“how dare you?!” she inquires through her teeth, not even able to hide her anger. “how dare you come to me with a wife? with a pregnant wife?!”

“you must listen to me, y/n.” he says as he grabs her by her shoulders and forcing her to look at his eyes. “i could not get to you if i did not marry someone... important. i did this for you, my love.”

he pulls her against him and kisses her forcefully, but y/n manages to punch him in the chest and break free of his embrace. she pushes him away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand harshly.

“don’t you dare touch me.” she barks through gritted teeth, her voice is full of rage. “you went to bed with her for me? how fucking stupid do you think i am, james? don’t you know me at all?!”

unbeknownst to them, charles is near, watching the fight, prepared to attack him if need be, but from what he sees, y/n is able to fend for herself. there’s no doubt he is the man she told him about, and charles can’t deny his jealousy, not even to himself. he’s never seen y/n so heartbroken before, and all of his instincts are telling him to intervene.

“i still love you!” james claims desperately.

“i suggest you leave her alone.” charles says with the calmest tone to his voice.

y/n is only able to breathe when she sees the duke, because he brings her a sensation of security. she’s even able to breathe a little better.

“who do you think you are to talk to me with this tone?” james challenges. “i couldn’t care less if you are her husband, your grace,” he says with a mocking tone. “we all know this is an arrangement. she loves me.”

“i am trying to be peaceful for her sake, but if you insist on testing me, i’ll lose my composure and end you.” the duke threatens, and his tone is as cold as winter nights.

both men are now face to face, close to each other, and the possibility of the fight becoming physical makes her desperate, as the last thing she wants is a scandal.

“both of you, stop! now!” she exclaims as she pushes the two tall, strong men apart. she knows james, and he can certainly be scary. he’s a tall, built man with fighting skills, but it seems that charles is his elevated match. “i will not tolerate a scene.”

“he started it!” james barks.

“stop it!” y/n protests. she regains a bit of control over herself and wipes her tears with the back of her hands. “leave,” she pleads. “we have nothing else to talk about.”

“y/n-”

“james, please! i do not want to see you ever again.”

outraged, james does as she says and leaves, but not before pushing charles with his shoulder on his way out.

“did he hurt you?” charles asks as he cups her face in his hands. the scary look is no longer on his face, as he is now concerned. her teary eyes break him completely. she looks so broken and hopeless.

yes. deeply.

“please, i must go home.” she begs and sniffles, never before having felt so small. “please, i am begging you.”

“yes, absolutely.”

charles takes her in his arms and soothes her before they leave. for the first time, they’re in each other’s arms, and both of them feel complete somehow. in this very moment, charles represents the security she needs, and she is the equivalent of what is missing in his life. the comfort she finds in his embrace is something she didn’t even know could be real. not even in james’ arms she felt such care.

did james care for her at all?

the most heartbreaking thing is that she can feel her love for james turning into absolute hatred and it is terrifying.

“i am here for you, y/n.” charles whispers before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

---

feedback is always appreciated! 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she���d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[lukescaboose]

So Into You

Hello everyone and Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m so excited to put this out into the world I’ve been working on it for almost a a year and its my first fic in nearly two years. I really hope you guys love it as much as I do and thanks so much if you choose to read it. love you all xx

Summary: Lauren and Harry are best friends who love each other and they both know it but Lauren is too stubborn to admit it.

What’s in it: Sugar sweet best friends to lovers with a healthy bit of smut. Black ofc.

Word count: 24.8k

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She couldn’t stop watching him from across the crowded dinner table. She admired him, his charisma and charm, his ability to dazzle a room without trying. She’d always loved that about him, way before she’d realized that she was in love with him anyway. It was his striking personality that had drawn her to him in the first place. Though they had never been anything more than best friends, Lauren was adamant to always let him know how much she appreciated that about him. And as she watched now she couldn’t help the small grateful smile from spreading across her lips. She was lucky enough to experience him for who he was and not because of the fame he had accumulated. Harry was everything to her. He reminded her that there were good people in the world, willing to give the shirt off their backs if it got someone else ahead.

Harry’s eyes met hers from the other end of the table, he offered her a smile and a silly face. She chuckled and looked away, her fingers coiling around the stem of her wine glass. She didn’t know anyone else besides Harry at this dinner party, but she knew how important it was to him that she’d be there. So she made an effort to make small talk with his colleagues around her but was easily lost when the conversation moved towards Harry’s business as the topic. She never cared for the limelight or wealth, her work dealt with children and the smiles she created were well worth it to her. Harry had felt the same, though his life had led him down a different path. His business created affordable living for lower-income families and he was very successful, though that didn’t matter to him.

Their aspiration for creating a change was how he and Lauren met. A benefit concert that Harry had put together drew Lauren’s attention and she brought some of her mentees. While the girls participated in the activities she wandered about to each vendor and learned about more ways to help within her community. It was when Harry had approached her that she thought her heart would lurch from her throat. He was incredibly handsome, dressed in a cream suit with a baby blue button-up undone at his chest. They talked, connected over their professions, and agreed to meet over dinner. It was no more than a networking opportunity, Lauren knew that a donation from Harry would secure a safe living environment for the girls at her group home. But when they met over dinner the conversation was endless and they talked until the restaurant was about to close. Harry had promised to make a donation to her home in exchange for her number. He was wildly attracted to Lauren, her dedication to her craft made him feel safe. She was ambitious, never righteous, and knew just how important her work was to the kids. He’d donate all of his earnings to her if it meant he got to see her again. 

As much as Lauren was attracted to Harry she’d never mix business with her own personal life, she was very adamant about that. Harry didn’t feel the same way but settled for friends if it meant that she’d be in his life. So they’d meet up for drinks often and discuss the labors of their work life, but the more they’d see each other the easier it was to blur the lines between colleagues and friends. Soon enough they’d begun to go over each other’s places and share the intimate details of their lives. They enjoyed each other’s company, knew how many people in their line of work only cared about money. Harry and Lauren both used their heart in everything they accomplished. With Harry’s personality and refreshing outlook on life, it was easy for Lauren to fall into a friendship with Harry - so much so he became her favorite confidant. It was nice for Harry to find someone who wasn’t interested in piggybacking on the tails of his success. Lauren had shared the same vision he did, the reward was simply making a difference. Though if it were up to Harry, he’d put Laurens name on every deal he’d ever signed, at the end of every speech he’d ever delivered. She was very much just as part of his success as he was and he’d never be able to repay her. He couldn’t imagine where he’d be without her, probably wouldn’t have made it as far as he had. Lauren listened to every idea he’d ever had, adding her input to his three A.M. thoughts. Without her, he’d probably be the same twenty-two-year-old kid with a dream.  

The dinner ended with Harry thanking his team for helping him achieve his vision. He made sure to give special thanks to Lauren, which had her smiling sheepishly at her dinner plate. Though he did that often, it never failed to make her cower under the stare of his colleagues. Harry smiled brightly at her from the head of the table reassuring her that without her none of this would have been possible. The opening of a new recreational center was Lauren's idea and she had pushed Harry way past his comfort zone when she presented it to him. The project was their baby and to see it come to light was something neither of them took for granted. Although Lauren wanted none of the praise or acknowledgment, Harry could never pretend as if this was all his doing. 

Lauren watched as Harry greeted and thanked his colleagues for coming. She stayed back, wanting to be the last to speak with him. They were going out for celebratory drinks, Harry’s idea. As the final group made their way out of the restaurant, Harry engulfed Lauren in a hug. “Feels good huh?” He asked her, placing a small kiss to her temple. She pulled away from their embrace, grabbing his hand in hers with a nod. “Really spectacular, Harry.” She beamed up at him. “All thanks to you, love. Still can’t believe you shot down my idea of putting your name on the building.” He frowned. She shushed him with a laugh, pulling him towards the entrance. 

Harry made sure to order Lauren’s favorite drink as she found a table for them to sit at. He brought the drinks back to her, ignoring the frown etched on her lips because he paid. He slid in next to her in the rounded booth, pushing her drink towards her with a smile. “Cheers to another advancement in the community and for all of your brilliant ideas.” He extended his glass to hers. She rolled her eyes jokingly at him but clanked her glass against his anyway. Harry grabbed her hand that rested on the table, capturing her gaze with his own with a bout of sincerity. “Thank you, Lauren, seriously. I couldn’t have done this without you.”  His calloused thumb rubbed over the smooth skin of her hand and she smiled. “We make a good team.” She grinned. “You give me any more ideas and I’m putting you on the payroll.” He chuckled over the rim of his glass, earning himself another eye roll from Lauren. “M’just supporting your vision.” She reminded him, taking a sip from her beverage. “Our vision.” He corrected her swiftly.  She smiled at him then, his kindness something she never took for granted. It was one of the reasons she found herself so desperately falling for him. He made it so hard for her not to want him in the ways that she did. She moved her hand from his hold and brought it to toy with her hair. She’d worn it natural tonight, the curls retracting when she let the strand free. 

“Like your hair like tha’.” He remarks, eyes following the actions of her fingers. Her gaze follows his, the curl she’d previously been playing with in front of her eyes now.

 “Thank you, took a long time.” She sighs, pushing the curl from her vision. He laughs, finishing the contents of his glass.

 “I know, seen you on wash day plenty of times.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “S’my favorite though.” He finishes with a sigh. A compliment was never far from his lips when he was around Lauren. Most of the time he did it without realizing it, always wanting to share whatever was on his mind with her. Other times he complimented her just because he liked the way her eyes shifted after. He found it funny that she always acted as if she’s heard something that wasn’t meant for her. That only made him reassure her that he was in fact speaking to her. She was gorgeous and he’d always tell her, she deserved to hear it. Lauren’s palms always got sweaty whenever he did that. She had never felt so seen and acknowledged as she did when she was around Harry. He was always bragging about her, even if he was the only one to hear it. He’d always felt that things that were incredible needed to be celebrated - in this case, his “thing” was just a “who”. She smiles appreciatively, the melanin in her skin hiding the inevitable blush. He never failed to make her flush. 

“You’re too kind.” She laughs, finishing the contents of her drink. The remaining ice hits the glass audibly and she sighs, settling back into her seat.

 “Only to you.” Harry winks at her, fanning a fire inside her chest that only he could put out. When he leaves to grab them a refill Lauren lets out an audible breath. She always feels like she’s holding the air inside her lungs whenever she’s around Harry. His compliments and praise suffocate her to the point where she feels dizzy. And if this were the way she was to die she’d be more than okay with that. She had never felt this way in her entire life. Men and relationships came and went, but this one she felt everywhere. It was like he had cast a spell on her, consuming her thoughts with every waking word and she didn’t mind but always felt relieved when she came back to earth. He was just so charming, to the point where it was hard to focus on anything else but him. She knew it wasn’t only her that felt this way, Harry had a way about him that would captivate his company. He drew people in, that’s what he was good at, and for her, he’d never stop until she succumbed to his charm. 

“For you, angel.” He slid the glass towards her, making himself comfy by her side. She smiles and thanks him, expelling the air between her lips after she swallows. “How’re the girls?” He asks, the tension is thick between them but he had grown used to it by this point. It was always like this, tense but comfortable, exciting even. Harry always looked forward to the times where they could be alone and catch up, even if he spent the majority of the time thinking about how beautiful she was. Lauren wipes the condensation from her glass onto a napkin, her eyes gleaming as she thinks about the girls from her job. 

“They’re great.” She responds with a chuckle, “So wickedly smart those girls.” Her mind travels to her mentees and how they always kept her on her toes with their insightful questions. They were always changing Lauren’s perspective on things and sometimes she felt that they were teaching her more than she was teaching them. 

“That’s great. And everything with the home is okay?” He queried and she nods with a smile. 

“What about you, big shot? Any new news that I should know?” She shoves at his shoulder lightly, having read in the paper that he had opened a new development on the west side of town. He laughs lightheartedly, his hand reaching up to wipe over his mouth. 

“I’ve been quite busy.” He shrugs then places his arm over the back of the booth. Lauren finds it difficult not to fall into his side. Even though she desperately wants to and Harry hopes that she does.

 “I’d say.” She chuckles. She places her chin in her hand, turning her body towards Harry’s. He fights the urge to lean into her, always wanting to be closer than what she’d allow. “Proud of you.” She murmurs, brown eyes watching over his face. He smiles a dimpled smile at her and clinks his glass against hers as a thank you. 

It's quiet for a moment, the bar is more upscale with very few patrons and Harry is grateful. Though he knows better than to think anything different, he almost lets himself believe that they’re on a date. Every moment spent with her felt intimate, whether those were her intentions or not, and most times Harry didn’t mind playing pretend. “You know,” He drags out the words, catching Lauren’s attention and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. Whenever he started a sentence that way a new idea followed. 

“Why don’t you take a break for a while, H. Bask in the moment for a bit.” She sighs, gently placing her hand over his. Lauren had come to learn very quickly that Harry wasn’t very fond of rest. Unlike herself, he was always bouncing from one venture to the next. She always felt like she needed a month's rest after one big thing. Though they were polar opposites, they worked together and were always pulling each other out of their comfort zones.

 “I know, love. Which is exactly why I booked us a getaway.” He grinned, that stupid grin that always made Lauren’s insides quiver. She furrowed her eyebrows at him, the confusion setting in after the initial shock. Harry gripped her hand that was already on his, squeezing gently as he beamed at her. “Know you’ve got some time off and I know how hard it is for you to actually distance yourself from your work. So, I figured, why not get away so you can actually take care of yourself for a bit.” He shrugs sheepishly and she continues to stare at him in bewilderment. Finding it hard to believe that he had actually done something like this. Not that this was something he’d never do, getaways were always something he’d bring up. But each time, Lauren would shoot it down with the excuse of work. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, she didn’t trust herself to go. Now she had no excuse, no safety net to catch her when she was in this kind of predicament. The way he was looking at her with such hopeful eyes was enough for her to contemplate saying yes for a moment. 

“Please, Lau” He pleaded when she was quiet for a moment too long. “You know how much we both could use this and there’s no better time. I’m stepping away for a bit since this project is completed, and I’d love nothing more than to run away for a bit with you.” She couldn’t help but smile softly at his words, even in the midst of her panic. There was no excuse good enough that he would accept, and she had no real reason not to go. Harry knew her boundaries and always respected them, she had no reason to believe that anything would change when they went away.

“How long?” she raised an eyebrow at him and his smile grew, knowing she was cracking. 

“Five nights,” He felt giddy as his body leaned in towards hers. “Santa Monica, beach view, close to the pier.” 

“Hotel?” 

“Airbnb.”

Her smile grew larger as the excitement set in, just as Harry knew it would. She had mentioned one time, a feeble excuse to get out of a vacation, that hotels were just as strict as work. She hated the rigidness and that you could never make a hotel feel like home. She always felt like she was sharing her vacation with a hundred other strangers, the shared amenities alone were enough to make her stay as far away as possible.

 “Fine.” She grinned.

 “You’re gonna love it, I promise.” Harry went on to explain the intricate details of their trip. They would leave that upcoming weekend, all their expenses were paid for. And he was certainly not budging on that. “You wouldn’t even let me compensate you for the brilliant idea of a rec center, Lau. Let me do this for you, Lord knows you deserve it.” He sighed. He ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly, her stubbornness has always been something he could do without. He admired it at times, adored it others, but when it got in the way of him trying to express his appreciation for her, he hated it. She stuck her tongue out at him teasingly.

 “I’m paying you back whether you like it or not.” She huffed, pulling her hand away from his albeit reluctantly.

 “And I’ll match it and donate it to a foundation of your choosing, princess.” She crossed her arms over her chest like a child which only made Harry chuckle.

 “Thank you, but I hate you right now.” She pouts. 

Harry shrugs and nods his glass towards her, “You can hate me on the beach, darling.” 

***

“All packed, lovie?” His voice echoes through the receiver as her phone lays on her dresser. She huffed, loud enough that she knew he’d hear it, whilst shoving random items into her dusty suitcase. It took her forever just to find the old thing. Mostly reserved for trips back home - which were few and far between - it was shoved in the back of the hall closet. She had made a list loaded with essentials to bring, but she wished she had cuter outfits to bring. It was stupid and she knew it, but despite how many times she told herself she shouldn’t, she wanted to impress Harry. 

“Just about, wish I had some new things to wear. Meant to go shopping this week but got caught up at work every day.” She groaned, pulling a bikini from her bottom drawer. It was barely enough to be considered cute but it would have to do.

 “Can always go shopping when we get there.” His voice sounded further away now, she reckoned he’d put the phone down somewhere as she had.

 “And overpay ridiculously at some tourist shop? No thanks.” She chuckled, now going through her summer basket.

 “I’ll take you to the nearest Target as soon as we land, how’s tha’ sound?” She laughed loudly, wishing she could smack away the smirk that was adorning his features inevitably. 

 “Oh I’ll be holding you to that, can’t possibly bring all my hair products on the plane.” The thought of that made her slightly nauseous. She didn’t want to pay for products that she wouldn’t be able to bring back home, but it was a small price to pay for a free vacation. 

“Thought you had an appointment to get your hair braided today? S’that why I never got those pictures I asked for?” She could practically hear the pout in his voice, and it was moments like these that made it difficult to distinguish what their relationship really was. She was certain he had only meant that he wanted to see her hair because that is what any friend would want, but her mind allowed her to believe that he was genuinely interested. Which he was, but Lauren was too stubborn to see anything for what it truly was. 

“I was getting butterfly locs, doofus, had to cancel last minute though.” She sighed at another added stressor.

 “Can’t go tomorrow? Our flights not til 10:30 at night, love.” He was closer to the phone now, sat on the end of his bed, and thinking of any way to make things right for her. He didn’t want her to worry about her hair or anything else for that matter, which is exactly why when he booked the hair appointment he had also placed a deposit for the next day just in case anything should go wrong. 

“Probably not, she’s definitely booked by now.” Lauren didn’t want to dwell on it much, though she knew how much she wanted that hairstyle. She could never find the time to get it done and thought it was perfect for a vacation of any sort. 

“Give her a call tomorrow morning, bug. Doesn’t hurt to ask.” Harry tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, knew she’d flip her shit if she knew what he’d done. 

“I’ll have to pay extra, it’s not even worth it.”

 He rolled his eyes on his end, “About the same amount you’ll waste on hair products, I reckon. You want your hair done, go get it done.” He huffed, hoping that would do the trick, he had no other moves up his sleeve. She was quiet for a moment and he knew she was contemplating his suggestion. 

“Fine. I’ll call her, but I don’t want to be let down again.” She picked at the lint on her carpet as she bit her lip and Harry tried his best not to chuckle.

 “If it doesn’t work out I promise to help retwist your hair every night before bed, deal?” He smiled at nothing in particular, laying back against his duvet while thinking about just how soft her hair was. He even contemplated canceling the appointment just so he’d have the chance to be close to her. 

“You’re impossible.” She laughed. The thought of not calling at all crossed her mind for a moment before she pushed it away, telling herself she’d revisit his words later. 

They’d hung up the phone a bit later after Lauren promised to share the outcome of tomorrow morning. Harry was excited to revel in just how happy she’d be to look the way she wanted and he was happy he was able to do that for her. He’d do anything just to see her smile, the consequences he was sure to face for it were minuscule. 

***

Just as he knew he would, the next day at around 2 o’clock he received a call from an angry Lauren. He quickly switched the call to video just to see her pretty face and couldn’t keep the grin off his own. She looked more gorgeous than he ever thought imaginable - though he thought that whenever he saw her - it was hard to focus on the irate nature of her tone. Apparently, when Lauren went to pay, the hairdresser spilled the beans that an English gentleman had already footed the bill, and had left a pretty generous tip. Which left Lauren flushing and dodging questions from her regular stylist with empty promises to answer her inquiries later. She rushed from the salon to call Harry immediately, her skin on fire with anger and simultaneously, appreciation.

 “Well aren’t you a vision?” He interrupts her rant as soon as her camera connects which makes her stutter out a thank you in the midst of her rambling. 

“You’re racking up quite a bill here, Styles.” She huffs as she gets into her car, and Harry can’t keep his eyes off his screen. He was sure that this vacation was sure to put the nail in his coffin but he didn’t mind. He had it bad for her and would do it again and again.

 “S’ nothing if I get to see you smile.” He reminds her, rolling over in his covers. He was faintly aware of just how late in the day it was becoming but figured rest was best before a vacation where his thoughts and attention would solely be on her. He ignores the way she rolls her eyes, his eyes watching the golden charms wrapped around her hair. “Seriously though, your hair looks very nice.” He hums and watches as she bites her lip to avoid smiling. 

“How’d you know what hair to buy, anyway? You didn’t even know what they were called.” She pesters.

 “Oh, I have my ways, darling.” Truthfully he had asked for a detailed list from the hairstylist on where to go and what to buy. He insisted that he pay for her time but she told him he had already given her plenty, which didn’t stop him from tipping her slightly more than necessary. 

“You make it so hard to be mad at you.” She scowled. Harry followed with a deep laugh, only wiping the frown from Lauren’s face just as quickly as it had formed.

 “Because I don’t deserve for you to be mad at me!” He grinned widely at his phone, all consumed with her presence.

 “That’s for me to decide, Styles. I’m not talking to you for the whole flight, swear it.” She nodded in agreement with herself, which only made Harry laugh harder.

 “We both know I don’t need your response to talk your ear off, sweetheart.” And he was right, that was one of the things Lauren loved most about him, his rambling. She could be dead asleep and he’d talk just to hear his thoughts aloud and she truly did not mind. She couldn’t count the times she had fallen asleep to the sound of his voice whether it be over the phone or in person. In fact, she preferred succumbing to sleep that way. The slow forming words on rose-colored lips painted her dreams anyhow.

She’d made it the entire ride to the airport, the trek through security, and half of the wait for boarding without talking to him. A task that was easier said than done. He was purposefully bringing up topics he knew she loved to talk about, and reveled in the way her face would twist when she caught herself opening her mouth to respond. She was more than ready to give up the charade but knew his satisfaction was not something she wanted to hear about. So she persisted, busied herself with her emails, and ignored Harry’s remark about taking a break from work. 

“How long y’gonna torture me like this, love?” His hushed tone against her ear had her shifting nervously in the uncomfortable airport chair. “Reckon everyone around thinks I’m just some lonely lad.” A cold shudder ran down her spine at his proximity and the feeling of his breath against the shell of her ear.  She was frozen in her place for a moment, the tempest in her brain willing her to give in. She needed to stay strong, assert any type of willpower at this moment. She figured it was time to change the outcome of how these things usually go. He was pulling all his stops and normally this is where she’d cave. But Lauren wondered what would come next, although against her best interest. So she stuck to her guns. She slid further into her chair, crossing her legs to draw Harry’s attention, and continued to scroll. He huffed, his hair tickling her cheek as he dropped his head dramatically. 

“Fine.” He slouched into his own seat, grumpily looking down at his own phone. His obvious pout was visible from Lauren’s peripheral and she found it difficult not to stare at it. Her thoughts reminded her that she was only punishing herself. So he had done a nice thing, so what? When’s the last time that anyone had been so thoughtful? The man had made two appointments and picked out braiding hair. But that was precisely the problem. Those were the reasons why she was as mad as she was. Harry had once again made it harder for her to distinguish the nature of their relationship. Then she was reminded that the only reason Harry was being kept at arm’s length was because of her in the first place. This then brought up the impenetrable fact that the relationship that they had built was too special to damage with self-indulgences. So the indifferent look on her face remained for just a while longer. Until they were seated next to each other, closer than could possibly be comfortable, she hated airlines for that. Unbeknownst to her, Harry was tempted to buy the first-class seats but knew better not to. No matter how uncomfortable he was in the tiny seats of economy-class. 

“Can’t leave me lonely the whole trip, can you? I’m on my knees here, darling.” He pleaded, trying his best to meet her eye but she wouldn’t let him. 

“You’re sitting actually.” She said pointedly, still making an effort to not return his gaze. He sighed in relief, dropping his head against her shoulder.

 “Geeze, love had me dying.” He mumbled. “Thought I’d have to start singing to ya.” He slumped into his chair, making himself as cozy as possible.

 “Wouldn’t have minded, know how much I love when you sing.” She teased, offering a small smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth. Harry flushed at her compliment, he only ever sang for her and his mum. He drops his head with a sheepish grin, fingers fiddling his rings for a second. Lauren softens deeper when she catches his diffident actions, knowing just how vulnerable he is about that area of his life. 

She had caught him singing on accident the first time, they were making dinner in the kitchen of his place, one of his many playlists going in the background. She remembered chopping onions to ‘Sparks’ by Coldplay when she’d heard him. It was faint at first, barely audible over the music, but this enticed her to listen harder. She turned from her position quickly, walking to his side of the kitchen to grab the kitchen towel. She was happy he hadn’t stopped when she approached him and decided to not comment on it then. He was rather good, a lovely voice she’d noted. It was unlike Harry to not flaunt the areas he was rather good in and Lauren figured it was something he wasn’t keen on sharing.  It wasn’t until he sang twice more that she spoke up. They were in her living room, the TV muted and a playlist of her own droning in the background. That was how they shared songs with each other, shazam’ing secretly in the other’s presence. Mac Ayres’s ‘Slow Down’ was playing softly and Harry began to sing absentmindedly.

 “Y’know this one?” She’d said without considering it, closing her mouth quickly afterward. Harry looked at her guiltily, nodding with a small chuckle. 

“Looked it up last time you played it.” He admitted. Lauren grinned, she always took secret pride in introducing Harry to new things. 

“You’ve got a nice voice, by the way.” She scrolled down her timeline in an effort to not watch for his reaction, knew he’d be a bit embarrassed. Which he was, he’d never thought of the possibility of Lauren actually hearing him. He knew that it wasn’t unlikely that she had, he had become that comfortable with her he supposed. But nevertheless, the compliment had him turning crimson. She never said anything about it after that. She wanted him to be comfortable around her, a safe space like he was for her. 

“Maybe I should sing more often if it means you’ll be mad at me less.” He chuckled, scratching his jaw in recovery.

 “Maybe you’ll be so busy singing, you won’t be able to do the things you do that make me mad.” Lauren smiles a closed-lipped sarcastic smile which only makes Harry grin.

 “Touche.”

 The seatbelt light dings then, signaling their takeoff and their attention is lost from one another. Lauren turns to look out the window, her blanket folded over her legs. She wore shorts in preparation for the warm weather upon their arrival, but it was a terrible idea. Her thighs stuck to every chair she sat in and the peeling of her skin from the fake leather was causing irritation. Harry could see the grimace in her face whenever he extended his hand to help her up, and at first, he thought it was because she was angry with him. It was when she rubbed tenderly at the back of her thigh that he realized. He offered to buy her some sweats from the tourist shop but the scowl she’d made was enough for him to not push it further. That was exactly what had gotten him the silent treatment in the first place. Instead, he placed his courtesy airline blanket over her chair before she sat down. Lauren wanted to be mad that he continued to be unreasonably sweet to her even without paying for anything, but she was too relieved to care. She had also worn short sleeves - which was a rookie mistake - and was deciding if it was her legs or arms that would suffer. Harry had layered up and truthfully didn’t mind. Lauren unfolded the blanket and extended some to him with a small apologetic smile. He returned one of his own, lifting the armrest between them.

 “Here get some rest, you had a long day today.” Lauren rests her head against his shoulder without a word, more than grateful for his offer. Harry rests his cheek on her head, inhaling her scent quietly. 

***

“Wake up, love.” Harry puts the rental in park, reaching over to gently touch her arm. “Food will be here soon.” Lauren lifts her head from the window, groggy and disoriented. She groans, stretching within the small confines of the vehicle.

 “What’d you order?” She grumbles, stifling a yawn with her words as she undoes her seatbelt.

 “Chinese. Got that sushi you like too.” He smiles softly at her though she’s not looking. He had decided that he’d let himself play pretend for a while, figured it couldn't hurt to just let himself be. If that meant living in delusion for the duration of their vacation, then so be it. He’d be there waiting until she wanted to make it a reality anyhow. 

The Airbnb was very quaint and sweet. Harry tried hard to find something that would feel like home for Lauren and still offered a nice view of the beach. He walked behind her through the front door, lugging a suitcase and waiting anxiously for her reaction. The layout of the space was open, not too much focus on the living room but rather on the kitchen that harnessed the view of the pier. Bright blues and grays decorated the home, deep mahogany hardwood adding just the right touch of home. 

“Oh, H.” Lauren breathed, her eyes wide as she took in her surroundings.

 “Do you like it?” He asks nervously, placing the suitcase by the door. There were more bags to be grabbed from the car, but he was enjoying the look on Lauren’s face far more.

 “It’s amazing, Harry. Really, I love it.” She turns to him, sporting a smile larger than Harry has ever seen her wear, and he wishes he could make her smile like that every day for the rest of his life. His arms wrap around her figure when she embraces him, placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, I appreciate this.” She says, letting her fingers graze his face in their close proximity. Lauren smiles gently, hoping that her words were enough to express just how appreciative she really is. No one had ever gone as far as to consider the small details that were important to her. She was genuinely grateful to have a friend like Harry.

“Anything to see you smile, you know that.” He speaks softly, the pad of his thumb rubbing small circles at her back. He places a slow kiss on her forehead, letting his lips linger for far longer than they should before pulling away. “I’m gonna grab the rest of our stuff.” His tone is just above a whisper, and Lauren is too enchanted with him to say anything before he’s out the door and down the porch steps. 

She was enamored by her surroundings, Harry’s sweet touch, and his words - things that would usually overwhelm her. But given her circumstances, she had never felt more cared for, the grave she had dug for herself had just become several inches deeper. She ran her hands along the cold stone of the large island, gazing into the darkness out the large windows. There was an alcove on the opposite side of the room that overlooked the scenery that was sure to be stunning in the morning, and Lauren was glad she had brought her favorite book along. She wanted to wait for Harry before going on a proper tour of the home, but curious eyes had her wandering down the long hallway. From what she had seen, there seemed to be no upstairs to the home and she was grateful. She hated homes that felt divided into too many parts. She decided to wait for Harry before checking the rooms out and made her way back to the kitchen. On the opposite side, there were large sliding doors that led out to a massive backyard with a pool that was lit up a light purple color. The air warmed her skin as she ventured outside, eyes resting on the patio set that would be perfect for breakfast in the morning. She made a note to wake up early so she could make breakfast for him. She’d already noticed that the cabinets and fridge were stocked full of groceries, surely something Harry had arranged, and she wanted to do something special for him. 

“Gorgeous isn’t it?” His voice startled her, only bringing a smile to his face as he leaned against the doorframe. She turned to face him, a shocked expression on her face and he couldn’t tell if it was the view or his sudden reappearance that had caused it. Lauren shifted on her feet, looking back out towards the view where she could vaguely make out the shape of the sea. “It really is, Har. I can’t thank you enough.” She breathes, fidgeting with her fingers as she speaks. The thought of how much he must’ve spent on such a nice stay made her uneasy but she figured she’d just enjoy it, there was no use in arguing over it.

 “The food’s here if you’re hungry, darling. After we eat we could go on a little tour if you’re not too tired.” He hums, twisting his rings around his fingers. He wasn’t uncomfortable with her around, only slightly surprised that he had even made it this far. He knew it would be a long shot to even get her to agree to come along with him, and it was nice to see that his efforts weren’t in vain. Harry honestly thought he’d take the trip by himself and sulk around the pier for a week. He hadn’t thought about what would happen if she actually came along with him, figured he wouldn’t get his hopes up with wishful thinking. 

“That sounds lovely actually.” She sighs, her stomach growling at the mention of food and Harry offers his hand to her before leading her into the kitchen. Lauren ushers him to sit, telling him the least he can do is let her make his plate. They had similar ways of showing their appreciation for each other, though Harry spent way too much money. Lauren liked to do little things for him, pick up a book he hadn’t gotten around to purchasing, unloading his dishwasher every now and again. They were always subtle actions that she didn’t think Harry realized but he always did. It was the way those little thoughtful acts made him feel that had him showering her with gifts and his constant attention. Those things were priceless to him and everything he did was in an effort to repay her. 

He remembered when he moved to Georgia after finishing college and how he felt like it would never feel like home. He had always figured he’d move back to England after school but there were more opportunities in the states for him. The first year was lonely, so he threw himself into his work and made friends that way, but nothing felt quite right. He always felt like a visitor until he met Lauren, she was his roots. Not the job, or his apartment, but her. As he watched her plate his food for him he couldn’t help but smile fondly at his best friend. She didn’t know it, but she was the reason he had stayed in Atlanta for as long as he had. Sure new opportunities had arisen for him in various places, but he only wanted to be wherever she was. 

“Better than home, huh?” She said over a mouthful of food. They had eaten mostly in silence, tired from a long day of traveling. The silence was nice now that Harry wasn’t being forced into it. He nodded while wiping his mouth, chuckling at Lauren’s terrible table manners. “Only by a little, you know how good the food is back home.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing his cleared plate away from him. She nodded in agreement, setting her fork on her own plate and letting out a sigh of content. Harry moved to clear their spots but she stopped him, insisting that she’d do the dishes in just a bit. He frowned at her but she wasn’t budging, grabbing his hand in hers to keep him seated.

 “You can throw away the garbage, but I’ll clean up. Let me, please.” She sighed, knowing that if she let him she’d never lift a finger the whole trip. 

“Deal, but let’s do the tour first then we’ll clean and unpack its getting late.” It was a little after one in the morning and the pair were exhausted. 

Harry kept her hand in his for the entire walk around the house, most excited when he showed her the courtyard, promising her it was more spectacular in the daytime. Lauren was in awe of everything he showed her, thinking that even if they never left this rental home her trip would still be well spent. He watched her choose which room she wanted, chuckling gently when her eyes widened at the size of the master. Complete with an en suite that encompassed a clawfoot tub she almost drooled at, she insisted that Harry take the largest room. Of course, he was prepared for the stubborn conversation that followed and in the end, Lauren’s suitcase was placed at the foot of the bed. She feigned a pout as she unpacked her bags, but Harry could see just how happy she truly was. His room was just across the hall, with an equally spectacular view just sans a patio. Harry didn’t care where he slept as long as she got everything she deserved. 

“Afraid your bed is comfier than mine.” He groaned, pushing his face deeper into the mountain of pillows. 

“Oh don’t start! I told you to take the room.” She stood at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips, a half-folded shirt crumpled in her fist. Harry laughed tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. 

“M’just kidding, love. I swear a cardboard box would be just as fine right now.” He yawns dramatically, reaching his arms above his head.

“Head on to bed then, H. Know you’re tired.” She hums, putting the last of her things into the dresser. She liked putting her things away even when on vacation, it made her feel slightly more comfortable with staying somewhere that wasn’t home. 

“I should, shouldn’t I?” He sits up and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. She hums and makes her way towards the bathroom to wash her face. “Goodnight, love. I’m right across the hall if you need a cuddle.” He says sleepily. 

Lauren smiles at him through the mirror as he stands behind her, placing a small kiss on the back of her head. “Might take you up on that, I can never sleep well the first night of vacation.” She sighs, rubbing her cleanser into her skin gently. 

“Well if that’s the case I’ll just sleep in here with you tonight. Can’t have you tired on our first day.” He hums. She nods, more excited than she dared to admit out loud about sharing a bed with him. Sure they had plenty of times before after a night out or a hang out that lasted a bit too long. But it had been a long time since the last time.

 “I’ll go get ready for bed, be back in a minute.” She nodded again without a word, finishing up her routine by brushing her teeth. She was slightly happy that she had made it around to do some shopping and had picked up a couple of cute pajama sets.  The thought of wearing her oversized t-shirts on vacation wasn’t all that appealing and nice pajamas were always good to have. 

A few moments later as promised, Harry was snug in her bed waiting for her. It was definitely a sight she could get used to but decided not to think about too much. She tossed her old clothes into her travel hamper that she’d neatly set up in the closet before making her way to the dresser. Harry watched her with curious eyes as she applied lotion to her skin, making a note that she always used that brand before bed, he was sure to buy her more when they got home. He watched as she put her hair up into her bonnet, giggling sleepily at how cute she looked.

 “Literally takes you an hour just to get into bed, come on I’m sleepy.” He whines, sinking deeper into the covers. She laughs, assuring him that she’s almost done. She takes off her rings and places them neatly with the rest of her jewelry before climbing into bed and turning off the bedside lamp. Harry extends his arms to her, willing her to come closer and she obliges, settling softly against his chest. She doesn’t mind when he entwines their legs, twisting their bodies together so it’s hard to tell where his begins and hers ends. 

“So happy you’re here.” He murmurs, his breath tickling at her ear. Lauren’s stomach swarms within itself as he pulls her impossibly closer, fingers tracing aimlessly at her back.

 “Happy to be here.”  

Untangling herself from Harry the next morning was one of the hardest things Lauren feels she has ever had to do. He was so warm and the way he groaned when she pulled away from him almost broke her heart wide open. When she was finally free of his grabby hands and pouty face she shuffled to the bathroom, promising that she’d only be gone for a minute. It was the only thing that the sleepy man would acquiesce, although she knew she wasn’t coming back. It was 8:30 in the morning, far too early for Lauren’s liking, but she was excited to cook in the beautiful kitchen down the hall. After sliding on her slippers she quietly made her way towards the door, looking back to see Harry cuddled up with the pillow she had previously occupied. She smiled softly, closing the door behind her. 

Thirty minutes later, the bacon and eggs were cooking and a mountain of assorted pancakes sat prettily on a plate. Lauren sang along softly to Harry’s playlist as she cooked, carefully scrambling cheese into the eggs so they would be perfect. She had cut up some of the fresh fruit and set it up nicely in a glass bowl, everything waiting on the island to be brought outside. Harry wandered groggily down the hall, the smell of food pulling him out of his sleep. He wasn’t all too pleased when he woke up and Lauren wasn’t beside him. He had slept better than he had in a while last night and was looking forward to waking up with her in his arms. Lauren had felt the same, she wasn’t much of a cuddler and usually liked her space when she shared a bed with someone else, but it was different with Harry. With him, she didn’t feel smothered or overwhelmed, but safe and warm. 

“You didn’t come back.” He pouts when he reaches the kitchen, leaning on the counter beside her. 

She chuckles, removing the eggs from the pan and onto a plate. “Made you breakfast.” She smiles and the pout leaves his lips immediately.

 “I know, woke up to the smell of it. Looks good, bug.” She swats his hand when he cheekily pops a diced pineapple into his mouth.

 “S’just about ready, need your help taking everything outside though.” She says as she takes the bacon out of the oven. He nods and begins to fill his arms carefully. Lauren had already brought the plates and silverware out, along with the orange juice and glasses. She followed Harry outside carrying the eggs and bacon, taking a seat when everything was set up nicely. 

“Thank you for this, I appreciate it.” He says once they’re settled and Lauren is done taking a video for her Instagram story. She sighs around a mouth full of pancakes, wiping her mouth when she swallows. 

“The least I could do, really.” She looks out towards the yard, which was even more beautiful in the daytime. They could see the beach from here, the sun glistening on the ocean, and a breeze wafting the scent through the air. 

“What do you want to do today? Didn’t really plan any activities for us so we can relax.” He shovels a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, fighting the urge to moan at how delicious they were. He always loved her cooking and was grateful that she cooked for him often.

 Lauren shrugs indifferently, “Not really in the mood to go anywhere. I do wanna take a bath in that tub though.” She laughs. 

Harry nods along with a chuckle, knowing that would be her answer. “Guess we could hang out by the pool then, sounds good to me.” 

Lauren had stayed in the bath for longer than she had promised, just as Harry knew she would. She could see him go out to the backyard after about twenty minutes of soaking from the window adjacent to the tub. She watched as he applied sunscreen and laid out for a while, and knew it would only be a matter of time before he was knocking on her door because he was lonesome. Just as she predicted, five minutes later he rose from his chair and sulked inside. Lauren couldn’t fight the laugh as she rose from the tub, stepping out carefully. After drying off and putting her robe on she opens the door only to find him standing there, a pout on his rosy lips.

 “I know, I know. I’m coming, sugar.” She breathes, chuckling at his sorry expression. This only makes his frown deepen, moving to the side as she steps into the bedroom. “I saw you out there, looked miserable.” Harry sits on the bed and she opens the dresser to find a suit, pulling out two before tossing the other back into the drawer.

 “Always miserable without you.” He picks aimlessly at the comforter before twisting his rings around his fingers.

 “You’re a whiny little thing, aren’t you?” She chastises him in a feeble attempt to not dwell on his words for too long. She was used to his behavior, knew how vocal he always was about the way he felt. But she was not used to hearing it constantly like she was, and it was becoming more and more difficult to pass it off for just friendly banter. They’d never spent more than 24 hours together, mostly Lauren’s own doing,  and it was becoming easy to think he meant the things he said differently than she thought he had. It was nice to play pretend for a while, but she knew better than that. Nothing good would come out of fantasizing over someone she couldn’t have. 

“Only when you take too long, bug.” Lauren shakes her head at him and goes to the bathroom to change, purposely putting a noticeable pep in her step. Harry laughs behind her, falling back to lay against the covers of the unmade bed. She had reprimanded him for that earlier, but neither of them had made any efforts to fix it. 

When he sits up again his throat goes completely dry at the sight of her in her yellow bikini. He didn’t know much about women’s swimsuits, but he was certain this one was made for her. Unconsciously, he licks his bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth with his teeth as she rubs some sunscreen into her skin. He had seen her in a bathing suit plenty of times before, but that was before he’d fully come to terms with the way he felt about her. She always looked good no matter what she had on and he always was sure to tell her, even before she was the sun, the moon, and the stars to him. 

“S’that new?” He said, shifting to rest with his hand behind him. 

“Yeah, got it before we left. Do you like it?” She does a turn for him and he almost wishes she hadn’t. Her figure was full, hips and an ass to match. Her stomach had some give to it, creating a pudge that she always tried to hide.

 Harry has to manually close his mouth before he responds, shifting in his seat. “You look gorgeous.” He smiles. He lets his eyes rake over her for longer than would be appropriate, but she doesn’t mind. Truthfully, Lauren had bought the suit with him in mind even against her better judgment. She was a bit nervous when she had tried it on because it wasn’t a suit that would hide some of her insecurities. She never liked the way her thighs would jiggle and her behind would shake as she moved, but she knew she didn’t have to worry about those things while around Harry. He always made her feel good about herself and slowly but surely she’d come to agree with him. It was a cruel thing to do to herself, and Harry, but she was enjoying his reaction.

 “Thanks, we match.” She giggles, gesturing to his yellow trunks. He smiles a dimpled smile at her, standing up from the bed and towering over her.

 “I don’t look half as good as you do though.” He compliments her again, unsure if he’s capable of keeping his eyes off of her. 

She’s thankful for the melanin in her skin that hides her blush as she eyes her reflection in the wall mirror. Harry stands behind her, taking in their appearance. He liked that they were matching, however cheesy it was. He pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the camera, grabbing Lauren’s hip to pull her closer. The first few were regular vacation pics. It was when Harry bent down to place his lips to her cheek, that things took a different turn. Lauren was caught off guard, the smile on her face becoming genuine and one of her hands holds his cheek while the other is placed over his at her hip. Harry snaps a few shots, letting his touch linger before pulling away. They review the pictures together and once Lauren has decided on a favorite, Harry sets it as his lock screen. Her smile was wide, her eyes shut as he kissed her cheek. She was a perfect ray of sunshine and now he could be reminded of it every day. 

“Oh, I forgot my sunnies.” She frowns as she digs through her bag again. 

“Got them right here, love. Left them on the dresser.” He sits in the lounger next to her and pulls his own sunglasses over his eyes.

 “You’re an angel.” She thanks him, putting on the frames and chasing the glare of the sun away. She’d made them Piña Coladas and they sipped idly to beat the heat.

 The warmth was welcomed though, Lauren practically lived outside during the nicer months back home. It was nice to feel a warmth only the sun could provide. They laid in silence for the most part, Lauren’s mind adrift and Harry’s as well. She thought about the girls back home and how they were doing, and Harry mostly thought about her. He thought about ways to finally tell her, he thought about what the consequences of those actions may be. He thought about ways to make it so obvious that she couldn’t deny it any longer. Mostly he thought about a scenario in which she loved him back. That one was always the easiest to fall into and hurt way less so he stayed there. In this scenario, she couldn’t rip his heart out with rejection. In this one, she was there at home waiting for him, he was picking her up from work, they shared meals, they slept in the same bed every night. Even though they were sitting a few feet apart, he felt as if she was miles away from him. It was always like this and he wished that things were different. He wished for a life where she would let herself be, where she would let herself be happy. He knew more than anyone just how deserving she was of it, and he wished that she’d let him be that for her. 

“Come swim with me.” He beckons when his thoughts become too much. He tries not to focus too much on the way her skin glows under the sun, her complexion radiant as if she were its favorite.

 She groans as she sits up, and Harry extends his hand to her pulling her from her chair. He doesn’t let her hand go as they move towards the pool step, and Lauren uses him for stability as she tests the water with her foot. It takes her a minute before she adjusts to the water, and Harry follows behind happily once she’s in. He sings along to the music playing from the speaker as Lauren floats around on her back. She wishes there was a float or something so she could still catch some rays, and makes a mental note to stop by a shop tomorrow. The sound of seagulls and Harry’s voice relaxes her to a place where she feels likes she’s floating in a perfect nirvana. The atmosphere he’d created for them just what she desperately needed but would never ask for aloud. Harry swims closer to her when he becomes bored, calling her name softly to not startle her. She hums in response, blinking her eyes open behind her sunglasses, and sits up so she can tread water. 

“What do you think about going out tonight? I’ve got some friends here and they wanna meet up for some drinks.” He pulls her closer to him by her wrist, dragging her to the shallow end and into his arms. She holds onto his forearms as she contemplates his question, mostly thinking of what she brought to wear.

 She nods, “Would love to.” He smiles down at her and places a small kiss on her forehead. 

“Then tomorrow we can head to the beach - the best cure for a hangover.” He smiles softly and she rolls her eyes.

 “Plan on getting me drunk, Styles?” She splashes some water up at him and he chuckles, pulling her closer to his chest to stop her assault. 

“Just a little bit.” 

***

For the first time in forever, Lauren is grateful that she over packed. She had thrown more than a couple of evening outfits into her suitcase just in case they went out to dinner or frequented a bar for the week. She ditched all the blouses and things alike at home and opted to bring more revealing outfits because of the weather. The skirt she picks out is a pretty shade of blue and spandex material with a matching cropped top. She was also grateful she brought her comfy white shoes with the thick heel and open toe. They were her favorite shoes to go out in and were easy to dress up. They made her short legs look longer, and she always felt her best when she put them on. After doing her makeup she dresses, the slit up the side of her skirt adds the perfect amount of sex appeal and she feels she has never looked better. 

She walks into the kitchen to find Harry sitting at the island. He looks away from his phone when he hears the sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood, and he swallows harshly when she comes into view. He himself was wearing cream slacks with a t-shirt tucked into them. His hair was pushed away from his face the way Lauren adored, he always looked much younger when he did that. He lets his eyes rake over her as she stands beside him now and her eyes watch him in bemusement. 

“Y’look gorgeous.” He sighs, licking over his bottom lip when his eyes meet hers again and she smiles gently at him, giving him a spin as always. She mutters her appreciation and Harry pulls her closer to him, holding her at arm’s length to truly admire her. Innocent giggles fall from her full lips as he repeatedly tells her just how good she looks. He couldn’t help but notice how the material hugged every curve she had, the slit on the side showcasing her thick thighs that had Harry near drooling. Her ass is damn near perfect and her heels do wonders for her legs, and Harry knows that this might be one of the longest nights of his life.  Lauren falls to his chest, hiding her face in his shirt, and he places a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 

“Car will be here in just a minute, lovie.” 

The bar was more of a club and when the Uber drops the pair off, Harry grabs a hold of Lauren’s hand, bypassing the line towards the bouncer. Lauren wasn’t sure what his plan was but is pleasantly surprised when the bouncer gives Harry a nod and moves to let them through. Lauren can’t help but move along to the music as Harry leads the way through a crowd of people. The scene brings her back to her college days when fun was expected on every weekend and most weekdays. She admittedly missed going out and dancing, and was grateful that Harry brought her here.

 They make their way to a booth where two other men are sitting, and they jump up as soon as they catch sight of Harry. They’re all jeers and hellos as they embrace and Lauren hangs back for a moment. Harry turns quickly, tugging her closer to his side as he introduces her. Harry had known these guys from college and would visit California often to see them. They were just as attractive as Lauren was expecting, all of Harry’s friends were. Micah was tall, a fade cut, and wearing a suit that seemed very expensive. His smile was warm and inviting, he seemed clean and sharp around the edges. His skin was deep and rich, he was fine. Seth was more on the leaner side, towering over both Harry and Micah. His blonde hair was curly and long, stopping at his shoulders. He too had a perfect smile and a deep charming voice that had nearly knocked Lauren off her feet when he greeted her. She thought quickly that these men would be fun to flirt with, but the idea was gone as soon as it came when she noticed the wedding bands on each of their fingers. 

 They sit at the booth for a while and conversation is easy as Harry gushes about Lauren and all that she was doing. Harry stands to order another drink for each of them once their’s expires, leaving with a kiss on her temple and a promise to only be gone for a minute. The two men share a knowing smirk behind their glasses unbeknownst to Lauren.

 “He never shuts up about you, hasn’t in years.” Seth smiles politely and Lauren grins bashfully.

 “He gets a little excited sometimes, yes.” She shifts in her seat, itching to get on the dancefloor. 

The men chuckle and Micah swishes the content of his glass around. It was very clear to them that Harry still hadn’t made any advances and it was also obvious that Lauren felt the same way that he did. Harry returns just as Lauren is finishing up telling the guys about her life growing up in Georgia. He slides in with a grin, placing his arm around Lauren’s shoulders and pulling her close to his side.

 “Hope these two haven’t bored you half to death, love.” He pushes her drink towards her and she swats at him.

 “Better company than you, I think.” She smirks, pulling her drink to her lips. Harry clutches at his chest in fake hurt and his friends laugh.

 “She’s just as brilliant as we expected. Feel like we’re in the company of royalty with the way you go on about her.” Micah and Seth are all grins as Harry tries to fight the blush from creeping up his neck. Of course, his mates knew just how bad he had it for her and he should’ve known that they wouldn’t let this be easy.

 “What can I say?” He exasperates, “She’s just that perfect.” His hand finds Lauren’s thigh as he chuckles beside himself and she leans into him with a soft smile. 

They go on like that for a while and their glasses remain full. Lauren can feel the effects of the alcohol she’s consumed and she listens in quietly as the men talk business. She was beginning to grow impatient with every song that passed, wanting to release her new energy on the dance floor. Her hand finds Harry’s at her thigh and she places it over his. He gives her a gentle squeeze and she hums, toying with his fingers. She fiddles with his rings for a while, and Harry looks down at her when the conversation slows.

 “Y’alright, love?” He hums into her ear and she nods, glassy eyes looking up to find his. 

“Wanna dance.” She harrumphs, taking a slow sip of her drink. Harry lets a small laugh fall from his lips, nudging her head with his nose.

 “In a minute, yeah? Need to be nice and drunk for tha’.” She giggles drunkenly at that, and he squeezes her thigh again. “I’ll order some shots for us.” Harry announces to the table, “ This one wants to dance.” Lauren lets her head roll back onto her shoulders as she laughs. She downs the contents of her glass and dances in her seat when he returns. Harry does the shots fast, making a face when he finishes and Lauren giggles some more as Micah and Seth begin their banter. 

Soon enough, Harry’s vision is cloudy and he feels the warmness in his chest engulfing him and he bids his friends good night when they decline the offer to join them. He’s pulling Lauren to the dance floor when he hears a song he particularly likes and she follows behind with a giggle, shaking her hips as she holds tightly onto his hand. They form a sort of circle as they move to the beat, the alcohol making their moves slightly untimely. Lauren finds herself gravitating towards Harry, and his hands reach for her hips to pull her towards his chest. She closes her eyes as she moves to the music, her head tipped back as she holds on to his shoulder. One of his legs is brought between her two as she rocks her hips, his breathing is heavy as he watches her. Their chests are pushed together as she sings along to the lyrics, allowing herself to let loose for a moment. He rocks his body into hers, matching her slow movements. Her hand finds the side of his neck after a few songs, tugging him closer to be heard over the loud music. 

“I’m gonna go get another drink!” She shouts. Her inebriated mind allows her to let her lips linger for a moment and she doesn’t move away when he pulls back to look at her.

 “I’ll get it, ‘ve got a tab open!” He leaves a lingering kiss behind her ear before they part and she’s left to dance by herself. Lauren didn’t mind dancing alone and lifts an arm over her head as her feet carry her side to side. 

 When warm hands hold her hips again, she doesn’t think twice as she dances. She falls back against his chest, moving her hips against him. They rock from side to side for a while, until he’s gripping at her thighs and whispering into her ear.

 “Let’s go take this elsewhere.” He groans and Lauren jumps away from the unsuspecting partner. 

The man is, in fact, not Harry, rather Harry is moving his way through the crowd towards the pair. He watches the interaction as he comes closer, nudging strangers slightly. The guy is whispering into her ear and Lauren is shaking her head profusely denying his advances. The look on the man’s face is one of frustration as he throws his arms around to argue his case. Lauren takes a step back and gestures to Harry when he’s in her view.

 “Think I’ll take it from here!” He shouts, nodding in the direction of where the man should go and Lauren takes her drink gratefully. The man scoffs, muttering to himself as he leaves. Harry pulls Lauren back against his chest, bending down to speak into her ear. 

“Should’ve known better than t’leave you by yourself! M’sorry, love.” She hums at the sound of his voice, a shiver raking down her spine. 

Harry doesn’t like the feeling of jealousy that resides in his chest. Doesn’t like the idea that another had their hands on her, and he knows that it’s irrational to think this way, but he can’t seem to help it. He grips her hips tighter in his hands as she dances against him after telling him to forget about it. But he can’t seem to forget it, his empty hand runs along her side as he brings his face to the side of her neck. She extends her neck and he breathes her in, his nose dragging along the sticky skin. Her hand tangled in his hair and she slows her movements, dipping their bodies slowly as she continues to move her hips.

 “You’re so gorgeous.” He groans into her ear, drunkenly kissing at the skin on her neck. She breathes in sharply, her eyes fluttering closed as he squeezes at her thigh. 

She rolls her head to the side in search of his eyes, and he leans his forehead against hers. His drunken eyes are hooded and he can’t seem to look away from her parted mouth. She brings her drink up to her mouth as they continue to move, sipping the rest of it through the straw. Her inhibitions were low enough to let whatever should happen, happen and she couldn’t say that she would mind if they had. He turns her around in his arms and brings his leg back between hers. He drops his face near hers, his breath fanning over her lips. She bites her bottom lip and places her forehead on his as she whines to the music. His lips find her ear again and they brush over her skin when his head sways slightly. He pulls her closer to him by the small of her back, and he can just barely feel the heat of her center against his thigh. 

Lauren’s mind is borderline incoherent from the alcohol and the way Harry was lighting a fire within her. Sure she had danced with many guys in her past, but this was intimate. The way he was grasping at her fleshy hips, beckoning her impossibly closer, this felt personal. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of her and didn’t know how much longer he’d have her this close. His fuzzy mind was telling him to go for it, and the option didn’t look that bad at the moment.

 “So fuckin’ pretty.” He says into her ear, and Lauren bites back a whimper. She’s gripping at his shirt desperately and he brings his face back to hers, nudging her nose with his own. She lifts her chin slightly, begging him to go on and his eyes watch her. Hooded eyes, parted lips, she was totally blissed out and he’d be damned if he missed his moment. 

He takes it. Slowly at first, lips grazing over hers hesitantly. She sighs into his mouth when his lips fully encase hers, soft and supple. They pull apart slowly after the first peck, eyes peering at each other partly in disbelief. Their attention is elsewhere than the club they were standing in, moving too slow for the pace of the music. His hand holds the side of her face as she leans up to look at him. Harry chases her lips again, closing over her bottom lip and tugging. Her fingers entangle in his hair to hold him to her and she presses her chest to his. Their kisses remain slow like their thoughts, pulling at the other’s flesh as eyes pry open slightly. Lauren takes the initiative and tugs at his hair gently, sliding her tongue into his mouth when he gasps. He groans into her mouth, his body alight with a fire he could feel burning through his being. She caresses her tongue over his languidly, pulling kiss after kiss from him. Harry pulls away and captures her bottom lip, kissing at it. 

“Let’s go home.” He breathes into her ear and she nods, slipping her hand through his. 

The Uber ride is all stolen glances and soft touches, an unspoken thing lingering in the air around them. As soon as they’re through the door Harry is kissing down her neck from behind. Lauren hums, falling into his chest as her hand still holds onto his.

 “Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” He mutters against her skin before releasing her and heading down the hall. 

Lauren stands in her spot, astonished at his behavior but follows him anyway. He turns into his room without a word and she goes to her own, collapsing onto the bed. Her mind runs in circles when she closes her eyes, and she can’t bring herself to change her clothes. The heels alone needed to be unbuckled and she didn’t think she had the dexterity for that. Harry comes in after a few moments and chuckles at the sight of her.

 “Supposed to be getting ready for bed, love.” He teases, sitting on the floor and grabbing her ankle. She sits up to watch him, leaning on her elbows as he places the heel of her shoe on his shoulder. He kisses at her soft skin on her ankle as his fingers undo the belt, massaging at the sore skin when the shoe is placed on the ground. Lauren groans audibly at the feeling, letting her head hang back as he continues. When the other shoe is pulled off he places her pajamas on the bathroom counter. Lauren takes her time changing and washing her makeup off, mentally preparing herself for what might happen. She giggles to herself at the thought that this was actually happening. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not, but her mind had already convinced her that this was what she wanted. She doesn’t focus on the complications of what they’d started, her mind swims with unreasonable thoughts and she can’t seem to identify all the flashing warnings that she’d worked so hard on maintaining. Her rule was to never mix business with pleasure, and if she was being honest, the business aspect of their relationship had dwindled away so long ago. Now Harry was her favorite friend, her favorite soul, and she should take advantage of the opportunity. 

When she comes out of the bathroom, Harry is sat on the end of the bed, fiddling with his rings. He looks up at the sound of the door opening and stands, making his way towards her. He grabs her hand when he’s close enough, and pulls her to him, spinning her so her back is to his chest. A loud giggle falls from her lips as he sways them side to side, planting small kisses to her cheeks.

 “Ready for bed, love?” He hums, raking his fingers up her side. Her satin tank lifts slightly as he goes on and a shiver rolls through her, all she can manage is a nod. She puts her hair into her bonnet before climbing into bed, and his hands are on her again like they never left. Harry’s mind warns him to stop but he can’t seem to and he’s rolling over her and burying his head into her neck. She whimpers as he sucks on the skin, not enough to leave a mark but she’s gripping his hair nonetheless.

 “Completely adore you, bug.” He murmurs against her jaw, pressing soft kisses to her skin. A small whimper leaves her lips and her eyes are hooded. She pulls him closer so their chests are touching, and turns her head to find his eyes. He nudges her nose with his, smiling slightly as she croons. When their lips meet he’s humming contentedly into her mouth. Hands grab at her hips, squeezing in anticipation, and her jaw unhinges enough for him to slide his tongue inside. Lauren rolls them over then, straddling one of his thighs as he lays against the pillows. Their kiss is patient as she hovers over him, her forearms resting beside his head and fingers tangle into his hair. A cheeky hand finds its way to her behind, groping a handful and pulling her up against his thigh. Their lips part when she gasps, her head hanging backward on her neck. Harry smiles to himself at the perfect vision before him, humming when his lips kiss right underneath her chin. She looks down at him through glossy eyes, pressing her hands to his bare chest as she moves over his thigh. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and places his hands around her wrists as she works herself against him.

 “Such a dream.” He says. His words string together slower than usual, and if she weren’t privy to his drunken dialect, she’d have missed it completely. She bends down to place her forehead to his, kissing at his nose softly and his eyes flutter closed.

 “So pretty.” She murmurs and moves to place her head into the crook of his neck, placing small pecks to the skin there. Lauren relaxes as his fingers trace patterns on her back and the world spins when she closes her eyes for too long. “M’so smashed.” She sighs, a giggle follows and Harry can’t help but laugh along with her. He rolls her off of him and leans on his side. His fingers graze at her cheek and she hums, nuzzling into his touch. 

“Kiss me.” She whispers, her eyes peering at him through her lashes. He doesn’t hesitate to move in, placing his lips over hers gently. He can feel her sigh against his mouth, chasing his lips when he moves away. He watches as her face contorts with frustration and he kisses her again, even softer this time. 

“Quite like kissing you.” His voice is below a whisper and she doesn’t think he meant to say it aloud. Her stomach swarms at his confession and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth to fight a smile.

 “Won’t last long.” She sighs, slotting her lips against his once more. He licks into her mouth, swirling his tongue over hers, and huffs into her. 

“What do you mean, pet?” His brows furrow and she’s chasing after him again, pressing a hand to his chest when he comes back to her. 

“Have to forget about it tomorrow.” She sighs against his mouth, jaw hanging slack when he grabs at her ass again. 

“And why’s that?” His teeth bite at her chin as he pulls her against him, eating up every whimper that falls from her sweet mouth. A particularly loud moan of his name has his eyes rolling back to his head, and his ego inflating. Praise from her was the only thing he ever cared about, it was all he ever thought about, and all his actions were done to please her. He loved her, way more than he thinks she loves him and he’s okay with that. He has no other option but to be. 

“Because we’re just friends.” She breathes behind a moan and Harry doesn’t believe her for a second.

 Friends don’t resist each other the way these two have been. There would be no reason to if they were truly just friends. She wouldn’t be melting into his touch, whimpering his name, tracing his tattoos when she thought he didn’t notice. He always noticed. He noticed the way she’d visibly relax when he hugged her, how her eyes averted his gaze when he complimented her. It was why he allowed her to steal his every breath, and consume his every thought. She was into him, and even though she fought it as hard as she could, she wasn’t fooling him. 

“Best friends.” He ruts his hips into her, watching her eyes roll to the back of her head, and he kisses her cheek gently. Her hazy mind pleads with her to stop things, put a pin in them before they can’t take them back. She was her own worst enemy, sacrificing her own happiness for the sake of stability. There was no reason valid enough for her to deny him, but there she was, pushing against his chest and tugging his heart out in the same motion. 

“We’re drunk.” She deadpans. Harry huffs, pulling her closer to him by her hip.

 “Have been for a while now, sweetheart.” His lips search for hers and she succumbs, slipping her fingers through his hair. 

She groans as his mouth works against hers. He tilts his head and she follows until he’s hovering over her. He liked to be in control, he didn’t like the bullshit that she was spewing at him, and this was certain to shut her up. Lauren had never been kissed like this in her life, and she can’t remember the last time she had spent this long just making out. In a way, she wishes she were sober, coherent enough to reminisce on this correctly in the future. She would be lucky if she could remember at all, and in some ways, she hopes she forgets. 

“Harry,” She whines when their lips part for a second and he licks at the corner of her mouth before pushing his tongue inside once more. His forearm finds the pillow on the other side of her head, and Lauren is wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Keep whinin’ my name like tha’ and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to forget this.” He smirks against her mouth. She whimpers, nails scratching at his scalp. She’s pulling him closer to her, needing the weight of him to remind her of her reality. Though she wasn’t sold that it was a reality she would like to keep, she was certain that she would love him even more tomorrow. 

“Jus’ gonna kiss you to sleep I think.” He hums, slowing their pace down and remaining in control. 

This was the only time he was calling the shots when it came to Lauren, and he was gonna seize the moment in case it never came again. The alcohol in his veins makes his movements sloppy, leaving a trail of himself across her chin. She doesn’t mind, quite liked the desperateness of it all. He’s all teeth as he pulls at her bottom lip, releasing it to watch as it snaps back into place. He admires the way her drooping eyes watch him and he’s sure to put on a show for her. They’re quickly learning what the other liked and Harry silently prays he doesn’t remember this because he's sure the flashbacks would haunt him. He kisses her again, pulling away quickly to watch how her chin chases after him. Her lips are parted as he toys with her, nibbling and suckling as he pleases. Her breathing is slow as their lips move together, relaxation engulfing her. Small whimpers and moans fall from their lips as he continues, wandering hands familiarize themselves. When their kisses begin to slow he rolls them over so her head is tucked into his neck. All she can manage is a quiet hum and he shushes her, fingers tracing over her back. 

***

Harry wakes before her, the sun streaming through the patio doors, bringing him to consciousness. Memories from the previous night flood his mind and he’s pulling Lauren closer to him. He remembers her hesitation, the way she had told him to forget the whole thing. He brings his arm up over his eyes, a headache pounding at his temples, and the mess he had created for himself wasn’t helping by any means. He breathes in her scent as she sleeps, dreading the moment her eyes open and the same realization floods her memory. Harry can’t decide what he would even say to her. Should he confess or act like he didn’t remember as she’d wanted? He wanted to bring it up to figure out why she had pushed him away the way she had. It hadn’t then, but it hurt to think about now. Rejection wasn’t something he experienced often, but it was still his biggest insecurity when it came to her. It was the reason why he had kept his feelings at bay for so long, and now he had gone and ruined everything they’d built. But it wasn’t as if she had rejected him because she hadn’t felt the same, she seemed pretty into it last night. But things always change when inhibitions are back in place, and the sun shines through the light of day. He decides that should she remember he’d tell her and if she doesn’t he’d redo it sober another time. Either way, if she doesn’t bring it up, neither will he. 

The task is easier said than done, he’s nervous all through breakfast and as they pack for the beach he can’t help but stare at her. There was no possible way that she didn’t remember and if she had chosen to put their actions in the past, she was doing too good of a job. Lauren almost wishes she had forgotten, but Harry seemed to be playing it cool so she would too. She figured things would be easier this way, no one would get hurt and their relationship wouldn’t change. Except it had, and Harry was hurting far more than he would care to admit. She continues to pack their cooler and ignore his watchful gaze. It was hard enough to try to misplace the memory of his hands gripping her thighs, or the way he’d said her name. She tried not to dwell on the way her body fit so perfectly against his like they were made for each other. Or the way he kissed her like his life depended on it. But she wasn’t going to speak about it unless he had, just like she asked of him. Now that she thought about it, it was a stupid thing to ask of him, but she knew it would be for the best. 

“Can you grab the sandwiches out the fridge, bub?” She asks, pulling her focus away from her thoughts. Harry turns towards the fridge without a word, tossing the sandwiches onto the counter before walking down the hall. 

She pushes the air out of her lungs and stops her actions once she hears his door slam shut. He remembered, and he was pissed.  He sighs to himself as he changes into his swim trunks. He thought the whole thing was just stupid and childish. He knows that she knows, and the way she could remain so nonchalant about it was bothering him. Was that all he meant to her, was he that easy discardable, had he misread their entire relationship? He knew he had fallen for her and he liked to think that she had too, but had she no feelings for him at all? Maybe she had meant what she said. That they were “just friends”. His stomach is uneasy and he doesn’t think that he can bring himself to face her. He needed a minute to calm the tempest in his mind, but he knew that wouldn’t happen with her in the room right across the hall. 

“Are you upset with me?” Lauren asks after they’ve been sitting on the beach for close to two hours and the conversation is nonexistent. 

They had barely spoken when he emerged from his room, only offering one-word answers to her feeble attempts at conversation. Their walk down to the shore was silent as he carried their bags and she pulled the cooler. She tried to not draw attention to it, to move on in the way that she knew that they should, but he was making it difficult.

 “At you? No. At myself? Yes.” He says. Sunglasses cover his eyes and he doesn’t so much as glance at her. She huffs as she grows agitated with him, flipping onto her stomach to look at him better. 

“We can eat lunch and talk if you’d like?” She offers. It seems that the only way out of this was through it and since Harry wouldn’t let her forget, she’d have to suck it up and have the conversation. 

“You told me to forget about it, so that’s what I’m fucking doing.” He doesn’t mean for the words to sound as harsh as they had, and he regrets them as soon as they leave his mouth. It was probably best to talk about what had happened, but she had let him sit for too long, and his thoughts had gone from upset to angry. He doesn’t apologize and fights the urge to look at her when he sees her moving from the corner of his eye. 

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job.” She bites as she sits up on the blanket. He looks at her then, a scowl etching its way onto his lips, and his temper rising. 

 “I’m so sorry I won’t discuss my feelings for you on some crowded public beach, Lauren.” His smile is mean, and she has never hated the way her name sounds coming from his mouth more. He seldomly called her by her name, always opting to use pet names or nicknames instead. She can’t seem to focus on anything else but the way he had said it. He had said it with such distaste, and the stupid smirk on his lips makes her blood boil. 

“So I’m ‘Lauren’ now?” Her voice is just barely audible and even though he can physically feel his heart ripping in half, and can’t seem to stop. He keeps his eyes towards the sky, knowing that if he does look at her, he’ll be putty in her hands. That was exactly what he was trying to put an end to. The way she so effortlessly had played with his feelings, toyed with his heart, and threw it to the side when she didn’t want to play anymore. She had hurt him worse than any woman ever had, and he wanted her to feel miserable along with him. 

“That’s how friends call each other, right? By their names?” He swallows roughly, closing his eyes as his skin heats under the sun. He can’t see her, but she’s shoving her things into her bag, making way for a quick exit. And before he even realizes it, she’s leaving him there and walking back to the house without another word.

 Lauren could count the number of times he had been upset with her on her hands and never had he gone so far as to be purposefully mean. She didn’t know how to deal with him when he was like this, and she was upset that it had even gotten to this point. In her eyes, Harry had no reason to be upset with her, not to the point where he was being mean, anyway. Sure she can admit that asking him to put what they had done behind them was a stupid, drunken mistake. In an effort to protect her own heart she had damaged his and she felt awful. But that was no excuse for Harry’s childish behavior. 

As she treks up the sandy walkway to their home his words bounce against the forefront of her mind. Behind his snarky smile, he had admitted that he did have some sort of feelings for her and she could pretend no longer that she had no clue what they were. She had spent so long convincing herself that she couldn’t be with him and had missed the signs that he was falling for her. All the walls she had set up to protect herself he’d effortlessly pummelled through, and had never given her reason to believe that she couldn’t trust him with her heart. She had been so blind to the way he had changed around her. The way it was so effortless to be with him, and the way that neither of them had any other love interest over the past two years. Lauren had always contributed that to their busy work lives, but it was time for her to be honest. The only other person she ever made time for was Harry and vice versa. The only person she ever dared to consider beyond herself was him. He was the first person she shared any exciting news with and the last person she talked to before she went to sleep at night. And as much as she would like to believe that she had kept it platonic, her actions showed a completely different Lauren. She was having her cake and eating it too, without the consideration of Harry’s feelings. 

She sheds her things by the front door before retiring to her room for a bath. As she strips down she tries to rid her mind of all the times she should’ve made her intentions clear. But at the same time, her intentions were a reflection of what she really wanted from their relationship. She could admit to herself that she was in love with him, but when it came down to owning up to it, she was as lost as a teenager doing this for the first time. And in a way, it was her first time. She had never felt anything as intensely as she did when she was with Harry. She’d never suppressed her feelings this way. She was used to getting what she wanted and not caring about the consequences, but this consequence she felt everywhere. 

Tears sting at her eyes as she soaks in the bubbles. Here she was sitting in a damn Airbnb on a trip that was perfectly planned and tailored to her liking, and she didn’t even have to ask for it. Harry had shown her time and time again just how much he cared about her and she told him to forget her in a moment that should’ve brought them together. It was selfish the game she was playing. Everything was on her terms. And even though she hadn’t meant for things to turn out this way, she supposes this is the way they’d been heading for a long time.  They were both stupid. Stupid in a way that they’d tiptoe around their feelings for each other, taking whatever the other would offer and writing it off as a friendship. 

The water isn’t warm enough to melt away the sinking feeling in her stomach. She knows she’s fucked up bad this time and doesn’t know how she could fix it. She could blame her drunken actions, but that wouldn’t dismiss the way they’d handled each other today. And of course, she knew that she’d bring it up somehow today, she was figuring a way to slip it into their non-existent conversation. She’d never be able to simply forget it and she knew that. She knew that when she’d woken up and his arms weren’t around her and she could still feel the indent of his fingers against her skin. God did she love the way he touched her. She loved how quickly he’d got her to fall deeper into his embrace, succumbing to his hands and turning her brain to mush. She supposes she liked that the most. The way she felt as if all the planets had aligned perfectly when his hands were on her body. Or the fact that said fingers had touched her everywhere except where she had needed him most. She was no stranger to his teasing, was privy to the mischievous glint in his eye when he had something up his sleeve. And she should’ve known better than to think that it wouldn’t follow him into the bedroom. Lauren is almost agitated with herself for not exploring that side of him a little more.

Not to overlook the way he had known exactly what to say, exactly where to touch to have her rendered breathless. Putty in his hands ready to accept the outcome of her fate. She had taken advantage of that when the time was so fleeting. Though she knew their situation was less about fault and more about their lack of communication, it was hard to not feel some sort of guilt. She was upset because she had unintentionally made Harry upset, and she often took pride in the way she knew how to please him. She was always the one to make sure he was having just as good of a time as she was, especially when she drags him along to do something she particularly likes. She knows just how fidgety he can be, and the seemingly mundane tasks that brought her joy would offer Harry anything but. But he always stuck them out, reassuring her that any time spent with her was time well spent. She likes to think that they do that for each other, checking on the other when brought outside of their comfort zone. There was something simple about their relationship. Something that had just come so easy. Lauren supposes that is what had made it so difficult to grasp what it was. 

She can remember the fear that she had felt when her gaze had lingered on his naked chest for a second too long and she felt the butterflies erupt in her belly. At that point Harry had become like family, the initial shock of attraction had dwindled long before. She had figured that it was just lust anyhow and would subside the way those first feelings had. Except these feelings were nothing like the kind when you run into a cute guy at the grocery store. The way she had looked at him now had stemmed from her learning who Harry truly was. And once she had learned to love him because of all the attributes that made him who he is it was game over. She loved the way he rubbed at his nose when he was trying to make his words sound perfect. She liked the way he could be so calculated but so lax at the same time. She adored the way he thought of her opinion and considered her at times she’d liked to believe she would consider him as well. They had gotten along so well and she didn’t want to worry her mind with attachments and emotions. However, in that time she’d spent convincing herself that she couldn’t, she certainly had.  

In some ways, she likes to blame Harry for the way she had dismissed his advances. It wasn’t as if the writing on the wall was so plain, after all. She supposes that if he hadn’t been so damn charming to anyone that had the pleasure of being in his presence for more than fifteen minutes, she’d be able to think more clearly. On one hand sure, the man who plans a detailed vacation has it bad for you. But on the other, that same man could light up the world and empty their pockets with so much as a smile. He was kind and thoughtful, and just good. Too good. The kind of good that makes you believe that your feelings that would undoubtedly bloom have sourced from delusion. And the months that Lauren had spent arguing with herself that he would do these things for anyone who so much as asked were exhausting. In that exhaustion, she had failed to make the rather impressive connection that she hadn’t asked. Harry had considered her and did for her simply because he wanted to. But when your pessimistic mind is so bent on making you believe one thing, the latter is easy to miss. 

She doesn’t move from her spot in the alcove when she hears the front door open then close. The sound of the plastic wheels of their cooler rolling against the hardwood floors isn’t enough to turn her head, but it’s enough for her focus to be lost from her novel. She stares at the pages, the black ink swirling and becoming one haunting picture, wishing she could make herself small. He hasn’t noticed her presence yet and she can’t gauge his mood when his back is turned to her. Still shirtless, she notices the way his muscles move beneath his skin as he puts their uneaten food into the fridge. The extra sighs and huffs of frustration aren’t lost on her either, and for a second she fights herself from getting up and lending a hand. She remains stationary, though, her fingers flicking the dog-eared page. She’d read the novel more times than she could count, the one she holds now is her second copy. It’s the one Harry had surprised her with one Valentine’s Day after her’s had all but disintegrated from the seams. He claimed the holiday was a minor convenience of presenting it to her, but Lauren let the romance of it all cloud her mind in a Harry-filled fog. She took better care of this copy, always kissing her teeth when her old habits of folding the pages would surface. The note he had left in the cover, however, had melted her down to the bone and she swore she’d make this copy last forever. 

For the sweetest girl with the heaviest touch, be gentle. H. 

Admittedly for Harry, the few words he had scribbled into the paperback had far more meaning than what she’d figured. She’d touched his heart and transitioned his life. Her influence was just that. Heavy. Almost so heavy that at times he found himself wondering if he was wasting his “good years” pining after a girl who had no interest. He was savvy that way, leaving hints and tips that his heart burned for her, and almost every time feeling sour when things hadn’t changed. He wanted her to be more gentle with him. He at the time was still new to the way he felt about her, constantly thinking of ways to make it obvious. But obvious for Harry wasn’t obvious for anyone else. At least not to a girl who had convinced herself otherwise. He wasn’t so used to the uneasy feeling that swarmed his stomach when she went out on a date. Wasn’t accustomed to the way his heart would race when her fingers would dance along his shoulders. And he certainly wasn’t privy to the way he seemed to have lost all logical thinking when it came to her. Truth be told he’d give an arm and a leg just to see her smile but now that he could recognize how he felt towards her, that had gone beyond sensibility. He needed her to be gentle with him, to not shatter his heart because he knew he’d never recover. 

Lauren is pulled out of her reverie, fingers still stroking the pages of her book as she reminisces. Her teeth bite at her lip as she waits for him to notice her presence. She was dying to say something, anything, but that couldn’t be done if he wasn’t willing to speak to her. At the same time, she’d be fine with saying nothing at all. She thinks to herself that she should’ve known better. Five days with just the two of them under the same roof should’ve had her running in the opposite direction. She should’ve expected lowered inhibitions and drunken words said without thought. But instead, she’d continued to live in the fantasy world that she’d created for herself. The one where she does as she pleases and expects Harry to move with her. 

She holds her breath when he puts the last of their food away and closes the fridge door. She buries back into her novel, the words not making it past her eyes but she pretends nonetheless. She only looks up when she hears him gasp. He stands behind the island, palms pressed to the cold surface and a look of shock etched into his expression at the realization of her presence. She offers a shy smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes and tries to decipher if he’s still upset with her. He seems calmer if his face is any indicator, and his sunglasses are now pushed atop his head. Under any other circumstance, she’d take a moment to ogle his chest and the way his biceps flex as he pushes himself away from the counter. However she still takes a quick peek, her teeth still gnawing her bottom lip raw. 

When she finally brings her gaze to meet his own she feels her nerves beckoning her to retreat to her room. Everything in her begs her to run away and forget the argument that they’d had. She hated confrontation, would rather forget it and move on than work through it. For most of her life that is exactly what she had done. Nothing was worth exerting that kind of energy into and more times than not, she wasn’t up for it. She liked to lay low, and would rather be someone’s peace than their problem. 

She feels frozen in place as they gaze at each other. Suddenly the room feels much cooler than it had before and she’s unsure if she’s ready to face the can of worms that they’d opened. She wanted to tell him that she was wrong, that she was sorry, but she’d be fine if he’d decided to move on. But that wasn’t the kind of person Harry was. He was the stick to it and fight through it kind of person. He didn’t like mulling over things for a long while and would rather tackle the things that bothered him head-on. There wasn’t a chance that he’d decided to not bring it up and Lauren was bracing for the impact. 

“Didn’t know you were there.” He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans his lower back against the edge of the countertop. She nods stupidly, eyes shifting down to her book in her lap. Uncertainty swims through her like a sailboat caught in a storm, and she’s not ready for the waves to crash over her just yet. She’s sifting through the thoughts in her mind, trying to quickly form sentences that would convey her regretfulness. At the same time, her brain is muddled with thoughts and memories of everything that had led them to this moment. She can’t read him, his face is expressionless and his jaw is relaxed in the way that makes her palms sweat. Her throat is dry and she almost opens her mouth to speak before thinking better of it. The silence between them is deafening, she can feel his gaze from across the room as her fingers trace the title of her novel. 

She looks up when she hears him moving around the kitchen, and he’s moving towards her still without expression. A grimace finds her lip when he sits beside her and she’s drawing her knees to her chest to make room for him. Harry sits down beside her with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest with his gaze out the back windows. He slides his body further into the cushions of the bench and another breath of air expels from his lips. Lauren eyes his profile suspiciously when he makes no efforts to speak, still silently gazing at the horizon of the ocean. It was nearing sunset and the sky had begun to paint itself a pretty shade of orange. Her favorite time of the day, where everything was touched by the sun, changing color to honor her beauty. In those minutes it was hard to think about anything besides the divinity of the sky. A moment of reflection, she’d like to call it. Sunsets always reminded her of just how big the world was but simultaneously she felt intense comfort. Everything just felt better. Everything was beautiful, everyone was kind, and nothing mattered. Something short of a small utopia.

 But the way she felt right now was anything but. She admired the way the sun cast a glow onto Harry’s tanned skin and deepened the color of his hair. If it were any other moment she’d crawl into his chest to watch the sky change with him. Now she sat facing him, the sun turning her eyes golden and warming her skin. She thinks about the time they went to watch Memorial Day fireworks. Sitting atop the largest hill Harry knew to exist in Georgia. They got there early because he knew how much Laren loved to watch the sunset, and how much he loved to watch her. She remembers how his eyes kept shifting between the sky and her profile, and the way she’d looked at him when he had that funny look on his face. He smiled at her, the kind where his lips only parted a tad, and pulled her closer as the air began to chill. Her gaze stayed on his as best she could, a silent indication that she wanted to know what was on his mind. He hums, tangling their fingers as his eyes gaze over her features. 

“Your eyes look like little pots of honey.” He smiled, tilting his head slightly. A smile pushes its way onto her lips as she turns away bashfully. He’s pulling her closer then, letting her hide her face into his shoulder. He can’t help but chuckle and place a gentle kiss to her hair. “So pretty.” He’d said. Lauren can’t forget the way he kept her hand in his the entire evening. She supposes she should’ve known then. 

His fingers wrapping around her ankles pulls her back to focus. He pulls her feet into his lap wordlessly and Lauren relaxes. Even in the silence, she feels more at ease than she had all day. The pads of his fingers rub at her skin seemingly unconsciously as he appears to be deep in thought. Her eyes are fixated on the bridge of his nose and the dip of his lip and for a moment, everything feels okay. 

“Suppose we should talk, yeah?” He murmurs, tearing his eyes away from the sky to let his cheek fall to his shoulder.  She nods, humming when he squeezes at the sole of her foot. He knows she’s a bit nervous, can tell by the way her fingers haven’t stopped circling over the cover of her novel. He fights the soft smile that threatens to overtake his features when he realizes which book it is. He can barely make out the shadow of his writing beneath the lifted cover. His hands on her skin ground him, and the changing sky makes it difficult to stay mad at her. He regrets the way he spoke to her, more sorry than he could express about being cross with her. He knows that he could’ve handled it better -- should’ve handled it better, and mostly he regrets letting her walk away. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but when his eyes meet hers it falls shut. He’s lost in the way her eyes glow in the sun, the warm brown shining, and for a moment he’s lost everything he was going to say. Once again his heart feels too big for his chest, his brain empties and everything seems insignificant. His body is enchanted by her, love overtakes him and he knows that he can’t let the opportunity pass him by. Before the silence lasts too long he’s running a hand up her leg and closing his eyes for a moment. “M’sorry about what I said earlier.” He starts, the low and steady bass of his voice cutting through the air. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that and I know I made you upset.” He’s fiddling with his rings when he finishes, unable to watch for her reaction. 

“Harry,” Lauren sighs, her chin dropping to her chest as she grapples with the words she needs to say. Harry’s lost in the way his name sounds like a song falling from her mouth, and he’s humming unknowingly. His eyes find her face again and he’s almost mad at her for being so damn pretty. 

“I’m sorry for telling you to forget about last night.” She breathes. Her palms sweat and her fingernails create half-moons on her skin. Her throat feels dry as she tries to maintain his gaze, willing herself to not be distracted by the soft features of his face and his apologetic expression. “It was a stupid thing to say, especially knowing it was the furthest thing from what I wanted to say.” She chuckles beside herself and Harry’s expression turns from sorry to perplexed. She’s twisting her ring around her finger with her thumb and the way her eyes stay fixed on his, he’s not sure if she realizes that she’s doing it. 

He lets a beat pass when he realizes that she’s finished, and suddenly he’s inclined to pry. “What did you want to say?” He asks unassumingly, relaxing his expression slightly. Lauren pushes out a sigh, looking towards the setting sun for an answer. The gentle graze of his fingers on her shins eases her discomfort. She doesn’t look at him when she speaks again, and he can’t help but notice the way her skin gleams under the touch of the sun. “Wanted to tell you,” She breathes in deep, sucking the air to her lungs and hopefully mustering up some courage as well. “--Wanted to tell you that I’m completely enamored by you. And that I’ve never felt more cared for in my entire life and that terrifies me.” Her eyes are back to his on her last word and he takes in the way they’re glossed over, glistening under the rays of the sun. 

For a second it feels as if he’s in a state of comatose. His chest is swelling and bursting and filling him with the warmth of a thousand fires that he thinks he might explode. The orange hue cast on her skin radiates around her and he swears she’s never been more beautiful. His smile threatens to split his face as he fully rests his cheek on his shoulder. He’s humming, pulling her legs closer into his lap and fighting the urge to wrap her up in his arms. Her words bounce around the forefront of his mind and he can’t focus on anything other than what she had said. 

“I’m scared too, but only of letting you get away.” He says gently. Her brown eyes watch him carefully as he brings his finger to flick underneath his nose, and he’s looking at her again with that same bout of sincerity he had on that Memorial Day. She’s silent, the steady drum of her heart reverberates behind her ears and she feels as if the moment would slip away in a second. “I’m sure that I love you more than I’ve loved anything or anyone. And I’m sure that I’ve never felt this way before, which scared me at first, but now my only fear is losing you.” He breathes.

 He’s unaware of the way her lip quivers slightly, and her hands ball into themselves. She feels as if her chest has been cracked wide open and every fear or worry that she’s ever had dissipates. Harry’s focus is on his hands, small remnants on a smile taint his lips. He loved her. Lauren almost wants to punch herself. What was all of this for? Why had she put up so many walls just to let him worm his way through? Why had it taken so long for her to realize that maybe, just maybe, he loved her too? She thinks she can blame it on her own insecurities, but even those Harry had made feel minuscule. She was worthy of love and worthy of happiness. That was all Harry had been trying to make her realize. She loved him. More than she knew what to do with but she was content that she got to try. 

Without a second thought, she’s removing her legs from his lap and standing to her feet. Harry looks at her with shining green eyes, irises bright from the light of the sun. She moves to straddle his lap and his hands find her uncovered thighs with ease, humming at the feeling of having her close again. The smile on his face is bright, crinkling the corners of his eyes and dimpling his cheeks in the way that Lauren loved. It was the face he made when he was so ridiculously happy and needed a release of emotion. She brings her hands to the side of his face, a grin splitting across her face. The sun was almost beyond the horizon now, an amber hue encompassing their small sliver of earth. The final rays of the day caress the skin of her back, warming her to her bones. “I love you.” She hums and Harry is lost in the glow of her eyes and the crinkle of her nose as she smiles. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, relishing in the way he feels right then. When she’s nudging his nose with her own, he opens them again and hums at the feeling of her skin on his. 

“I love you.” He repeats, the skin of his lips brushing against hers and she sighs. He lets his hands trail up her sides and around her back slowly, up and down until they're under her t-shirt. He leans up to connect their lips softly, humming contentedly. He takes his time this time around, memorizing the way her lips slot over his and how her fingers squeeze behind his ears. He has nothing to prove now, no flashing club lights blurring his vision, no alcohol to numb his thoughts into oblivion. Everything was out in the open, into the universe, and blooming under the sunshine. 

As his lips close over her bottom one he’s smiling softly and dropping his forehead to hers. He kisses his way along her jaw, pressing others to the lifted apples of her cheeks. Soft words of adoration fall from his mouth as he continues, and her jaw falls to her chest when he gets to that spot behind her ear. She’s mewling into his touch, raking her fingers through the long strands of his hair. He hums at the small pleas that fall from her lips and places a gentle kiss at her temple.  “Not gonna run from this, this time?” It’s posed as a question but the look in his eye says otherwise, and he’s pulling his chin away when Lauren goes to slot their lips together. “Asked you a question, love.” The cool metal of his rings bites at the skin of her back and she feels her insides swarm with the change in the tone of his voice. She’s damn near whimpering as she moves into him again only to be met with his retraction. Her breathing is shaky as she strings her words together, maintaining his eye contact. “Not going anywhere.” She assures him, biting at his chin. Harry pulls her closer then, reconnecting their lips and biting at her top one. His hand moves from under her shirt to the side of her face, fingers squeezing behind her ear when he moans on his next breath. 

She adores the way he kisses her with such fervor. Even as she leans over his seated frame, he commands her to follow his lead with every part of his lips and turn of his head. She doesn’t mind letting him work into her mouth and moans when his tongue slides over hers and finds home. He pulls her closer into his lap, a low groan reverberating in his chest when she sits on the becomings of a hard-on. Lauren hums into his mouth once again as she rolls over him and grips his hair a bit tighter. Harry pulls her bottom lip into his mouth, biting on the flesh before pulling a kiss from her. His palm is splayed across her lower back as she grinds against him and he watches her face with parted lips when he pulls away from their kiss. When he’s met with her golden eyes he can’t help but let his jaw hang slack for a moment. He takes in the small pants of air falling from her kiss swollen lips, and he doesn’t let the warm flush of her cheeks slip his notice. He almost whimpers at the sight before him, entranced with the pure unadulterated version of it. He’s vaguely aware of her hands slipping down his shoulders to his chest, fingers creating crescent-like shapes in their wake. His focus is blinded by the way she kisses across his jaw, familiarizing herself with the skin right below his chin. She nips there for a moment, sucking a deep bruise on the stretched skin and his eyes are rolling back into his sockets. 

The selfish need to have her closer racks through him, and he reckons he’d never grow tired of having her this way. Both hands are back under her shirt, desperately tugging the fabric higher up her ribs. His eyes are a gentle plea of consent and she nods, raising her arms over her head silently. He kisses at her smooth brown skin, suckling next to a freckle he’d been eyeing all week. She can feel the short pants of his breath at her ribcage as the shirt is moved up towards her arms. His touch is light as he moves the shirt over her shoulders, green eyes boring into hers in an intense stare she can’t tear her eyes away from. Their eye contact is lost for a moment when the shirt is tugged over her head and Harry’s moaning against her skin before their eyes reconnect. She hadn’t felt it necessary to put on any kind of underwear after her bath. The task itself seemed mundane as she had dwelled on her once dreary thoughts. But now as the cool air hits her skin and her shirt is tossed to the floor, she’s sucking in a breath through her teeth and her nipples are pebbling. Harry doesn’t hesitate to envelope one of the buds between his lips, humming in satisfaction when her fingers tangle through his hair once more. She lets out a wanton moan as he flicks at her nipple with his tongue, rolling her hips against his in anticipation. 

“Fuck.” That is all he can manage to breathe out when his hips rut into her on the next forward roll of her hips, and his bottom lip rests on her skin. Lauren brings her hand to the side of his face, admiring the little furrow between his brows. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He whines and pulls her back to him by her neck. He pushes their lips together in a chaste kiss and pulls away to watch her chase him. Her brow furrows and he offers a soft smile, lips slotting against hers softly.

 “Want you so bad.” Her voice is just above a whisper but he catches it and the words turn his stomach in ways that he’d only dreamt about.  He rests his forehead at the base of her throat in an attempt to bring himself down to earth. This was something that had never left the confines of his conscious, something he reserved for his alone time. “I’m yours. Always have been, pet.” He says into her skin, placing a gentle kiss where she’s swallowing harshly. Fingers cart through his hair softly, and she places a small kiss on his head. He turns his head to the side to catch her gaze, brown eyes shining in the lasting embers of the sun. The drum of her heart pounds beneath his ear and his hands find her hips to pull her closer to him. He watches the way her eyes flutter shut when his erection slides against her soft center. The material of his swim trunks is thin enough for her to feel the slight curve of his member and she can’t help but want to feel him completely. She seldom thought about him this way, the thought of it always got her too worked up to continue. But when she had, she had imagined every detail.

“Need you.” She exasperates, her head falling forward on her neck. He captures her lips between his own then, tracing his tongue along the curve of her, and sighing. He can’t think of a time where she had ever been more vulnerable with him, and as much as he wants to satisfy her every need, he wonders how much she’s willing to share. He hums against her mouth when she tugs at the roots of his hair, a whimper falls from her mouth when he pulls away slightly. 

“Where do you need me, lovie?” His bitten lips brush against hers as he speaks, the low octave of his tone spurring her on. She turns her head, groaning against his cheek and he chuckles deeply. He moves his hand up her side, gliding over her rib cage and gently cupping the swell of her breast. Her breathing is shaky, mind muddled with nerves and desire. His fingers tweak at her nipple, pulling just enough to elicit a moan from her pouty mouth. “Harry-” She whines, her jaw hanging open as she tilts her head up towards the ceiling. “Need me to help you feel good, babe?” He hums and trails his nose against the length of her neck. She nods meekly, turning her head to capture his lips in a swift movement. Her hand finds the side of his neck when she feels him about to pull away, sucking his lip into her mouth before offering him her tongue. He grunts, kissing into her and letting her take control of his mouth for a moment.  She moves her mouth against his quickly, a feeble attempt to distract him and he’s groaning as he submits to her. His other hand moves around her back until he’s gripping her ass, sliding her back into his lap with a sigh.

 “Got to use your words, sunshine.” His grip is tight on her, stilling her movements and making her whimper desperately into his mouth. He was so hard, harder than he thinks he’s ever been in his life but he loves her this way. Needy, clinging to his shoulders and whining against his temple. “Make me feel good, H. Please.” She barely recognizes the sound of her own voice. He’s humming against her skin, tonguing his way along her throat. The hand that had played idly at her breast makes its slow descent down her stomach and in between their bodies. He plays coyly around the hem of her shorts, dipping his fingers in slightly to run across the smooth skin of her stomach. “Right in here?” He asks absentmindedly, watching her face as he pushes a single finger into the front of her shorts. They moan together, Harry in the realization that she wasn’t wearing any underwear at all. 

“Fuck, yes.” She whines as the tip of his middle fingers collects her wetness before running up to her clit. She exhales a shaking breath, her hips grinding down on his slow-moving digit. He’s moving so slowly in a way that makes her brain fuzzy, and her eyes dilate under the shifting sun. “Want me here or do you wanna go to bed?” He breathes, soaking his finger in her as he pushes into her. Her back arched into his chest, fingers scratching at his scalp and she’s unsure if she could breathe let alone tell him what she wants. He’s pulling his finger away slightly when she doesn’t answer, green eyes peering at her as her eyebrows furrow. 

“Here, love. Please, feels so good.” Her mouth hangs open as he’s pushing two fingers into her on his next go, groaning at the feeling of her squeezing him. His fingers reach places she could never reach on her own and she pants quick breaths as she rocks against his hand. His hand at her ass guides her with his rhythm, soft pleas fall from her lips when he curls his digits and scratches at the spongy spot within her. 

“Look so fuckin’ pretty riding my fingers like tha’.” He moans, voice gravely with his own arousal just from watching her. His words rang through her ears, spurring her hips to come down on his fingers with every thrust. He had managed to get her so close to the edge rather quickly, and the familiar tingles shot down her spine as she neared her finish. 

“So close, H.” She whines, dropping her forehead to focus on his eyes. What she sees instead has a deep guttural moan ripping through her chest and it takes everything in her not to screw her eyes shut. Harry had a hand down his swim trunks, squeezing and pumping at his length. When his eyes meet hers again, his mouth falls open in bliss his eyes a gentle plea for her to come for him. With his next thrust into her, he pushes his thumb against her clit, rubbing slow steady circles until she’s crying out his name in a way he decides that he loves. 

“Make a mess on my fingers, baby. Wanna feel you.” He groans before pulling her nipple between his teeth and his fingers reach for that spot that he knows will bring her over the edge. Her hands claw at his shoulders as he sucks a deep bruise into the underside of her boob. When her legs begin to shake against his thighs he pulls his hand out of his trunks and cups her jaw to pull her mouth back to his. Their kiss is all brushing lips and deep moans as her orgasm rushes through her, tensing her body and he works her through it. “So fucking good for me.” He says against the corner of her mouth as she comes. His thumb slows its movements at her clit until she’s grabbing at his wrist when it becomes too much. 

She places a soft kiss against his lips when she comes to, slotting her lips against his. His bottom lips rest between her parted mouth as she pulls kiss after kiss from him, eating every moan and whimper that falls from them. He’s pulling his fingers from her then, cupping his hand until he’s out of her shorts. She watches with wide eyes as he brings the digits to his mouth, sucking his middle finger into his mouth and humming at the taste of her. He keeps his eyes open, watching the way brown eyes focus on the way his tongue laps over his finger. When he’s had his share he taps his ring finger against her lips, sliding it through when they part with a groan that has his hips in search of her center. A slow fuck reverberates from his throat as he watches her through a lustful gaze. Her eager mouth sucks him in slowly, putting on a show for him, licking around his digit in a way she had only imagined she’d suck his cock if given the chance. 

“Need t’be inside of you.” It’s a desperate whine, really. An airy plea that falls from rose-colored lips, tickles her insides and fills her with a warmth that blankets her soul. With a nod of her head and a whisper of, please he’s standing to his feet with her in his arms. He puts her down before spinning her in his arms, grabby hands caressing her skin as he nips at her neck. He’s pushing his hips into her as he grabs at hers, pulling her back to his chest. Her head is lulling against his shoulder facing the opposite way as he sucks a deep mark where her neck and shoulder meet. 

“Just can’t get enough of you, bug.” His hands slip up her sides, cupping her breasts in both palms. “Pretty under the sun, like it was made for you.” He murmurs, voicing his thoughts into the open. She whimpers when his hands tug at her shorts, fingers dipping below the waistband.  “Take ’em off.” She breathes above a whisper, placing her hands over his and pushing the tight fabric down her legs. He turns her around in his arms when she steps out of them, hands running aimlessly over her naked body. She’s pushing his swim trunks down his legs, keeping her eyes fixed on his. He watches her with a parted mouth as she drops to her knees before him and steps of out his shorts with a sigh. 

Lauren can hardly keep her hand still as she wraps her fingers around his length, groaning at the feeling of him in her hand. His skin velvet smooth, the weight of him resting in her palm nicely. She kisses around his thighs, whimpering along with him as she spreads the precum around his tip with her thumb. A muffled shit falls from Harry’s lips as he tilts his head back on his neck, blowing a puff of air towards the ceiling. Her heart pounds behind her ears as she takes him into her mouth slowly at first, humming at the taste of him on her tongue. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, savoring the way he felt in her mouth, how heavy he felt laying against her tongue and she can only imagine the way he would fill and stretch her. She holds the base of him as she circles around his tip, familiarizing herself with every curve and indent of his cock. Harry’s hand finds its way to her hair, bunching at the nape of her neck and she lowers her mouth on him with a satisfied sigh. 

“Yes, baby suck me off like tha’.” He moans as his chin rests on his chest, which was beginning to glisten with a sheen of sweat. She places her other palm of his butterfly tattoo, nails creating crescents in his skin as she peers at him through her lashes. Harry knows that this can’t last for very long, not with the way her small hand stokes at his cock and her mouth swallows him deeper. He knows that if he doesn’t want to cream down her throat he should pull off soon, but the way her hand meets her mouth right under his tip when she’s rearing back has him shifting his hips forward towards her pretty mouth. 

She finds a rhythm of stroking her hand and sucking him off, squeezing at the base of him when she got there. Harry can’t contain the sounds that fall effortlessly from his mouth, whimpering her name like a prayer as he watches her take him down her throat. She lets her wrist twist as she pulls upwards, releasing her mouth from him with a pop in an attempt to gain some air. He nearly loses it when she taps his swollen tip against her stuck-out tongue before she traces the vein that runs along the underside of his length. She kisses at his thighs as she wanks him, leaving small marks on his skin as she sucks. Her thumb swipes over his slit periodically as she keeps her rhythm, twisting her wrist and squeezing slightly when she reaches his tip. Harry’s curling his toes against the hardwood flooring, his hand feeling limp in her hair as he succumbs to her touch, chanting her name as she pleases him. He lets her go on for a moment longer before he’s pulling his hips away from her and meeting her eyes with a breathless pant. 

“Got kinda close there, hm?” She asks as she stands to her feet again with a smile. He nods sheepishly, the words lost on his tongue and he presses his forehead to hers and she grasps at the fleshy part of his hips. She presses her mouth to his again, pulling up on his shoulders and he groans at the taste of himself and the stale remnants of her on his tongue. He brings her back with him as he sits on the alcove bench once more and she straddles his thighs, making a point to sit directly over his hardened length. 

“Gonna be a good girl fo’ me and ride my cock?” He murmurs against her jaw, placing soft kisses to her skin. She nods as she lifts her hips, reaching a hand between them to grab his dripping length. She holds him there for a moment, letting him slip against her folds and brush at her clit, eliciting a moan from her lips. Harry groans at the feeling of her wetness coating his cock and anticipation swells in his chest because he knows his fate. He had dreamt of it more times than he could count. Thought of the way her walls would stretch open for him and squeeze against him as he sheathed himself within her. But nothing compares to the way it actually feels when she sits down on him, drinking him in inch by inch and whimpering a soft cry of his name. Her nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses, watching with wide lust-blown eyes as he disappears within her. 

“Fuck, I love you.” He cries, bringing his eyes to find hers once more. Lauren finds his lips again as his chest heaves up and down against her own. “I’m so in love with you.” She whimpers against his lips when he bottoms out, filling her to the brim. God, was he big. Lauren thinks she has never felt so full in her life, never had she taken a dick as big as his and she needs a minute to just feel him. He kisses her slowly as she adjusts to his size, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek as he lazily moves his tongue with hers. The initial roll of her hips has him moaning a filthy sound into her mouth, his other hand taking purchase of her ass. Her jaw unhinges and their kiss is lost as she does it again, lifting up slowly and rolling her hips forward when she comes back down. The hand on her face joins his other hand, his forearms resting underneath her thighs and holding her ass to guide her. The support allows her to rock her hips faster, bouncing along his length and scratching at his scalp. 

“Taking me so well, baby.” He snaps his hips up to meet hers and all the air is lost from her lungs as she cries out. Harry’s lips find her neck, sucking evidence of the way she was making him feel into the clammy skin. She tugs at the roots of his hair as she moves faster against him, feeling the pit in her stomach knotting itself once more. 

“Feel so full, H. Need you to fuck me.” The words sound so sinful falling from her lips, coated with an intense need for him. She knows there was no way she’d ever let go of this now, no matter what it took to keep it. He was hitting all the spots within her that made her legs shake and knees buckle, murmuring words into her skin that were only ever meant for her to hear. 

He flips them over quickly, resting her head against the arm of the bench with his hand underneath to keep her safe. His other hand pulls her leg around his hip as he kneels over her and pushes his chest against hers. A loud cry of fuck expels from her lips as his hips come down against hers, deeper than he was in their last position and her fingers claw down his back, leaving marks in her wake that she was sure to admire later on. One hand tangles in the damp tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck while the other grabs aimlessly at the apex of his ass while he fucks into her, drawing himself out completely before pushing into her again. 

“Need a proper fucking, yeah? Need me t’show you how much you mean t’me?” He pants against her ear, sliding his arm around her waist to hold her closer. His words further intensify to knot in her stomach, sparks tingling in her spine once more. She rolls her hips up into his, finding his rhythm and crying out when his patch of hair brushes against her clit. “Shit, Harry. I’m gonna come.” Her voice raises an octave towards the end and he’s picking up the speed of his hips. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, bug. Hold on f’me.” The kisses he’s pressing on her skin are a stark contrast from the steady roll of their hips, his tongue tracing behind her ear before sucking on her ear lobe. The pulse of her walls around his cock has him twitching within her, the familiar feel of his orgasm building at the bottom of his spine. He’s not quite finished with her yet, wants to be enveloped in her warmth for as long as he can. He knows he’ll be spending the rest of their stay buried inside of her in every room of the house because he just can’t seem to think about a scenario where they aren’t doing this. And he’s mad at himself for not saying anything sooner because this was what he had been missing. He should’ve been making love to her repeatedly way before they even got to this point, but he figures that it made it better. 

“Fuck, love want you to come.” He breathes against her mouth, hovering over her parted lips as his eyes stay locked on hers, supposing he’d be damned if he closed his eyes and missed the way her face turned when she comes undone. The snapping of his hips is relentless as she chants his name, willing her eyes to stay open as she fucks him back, welcoming the warmth that rushes over her. She tugs at the roots of his hair while simultaneously pushing him closer to her, breathing his name in airy sighs as she feels her orgasm peaking. 

“I’m coming. Fuck, baby, I’m -” 

“Come on my cock, love, need you to come.” He groans along with her as her legs shake and her orgasm ripples through her, squeezing the length of him tightly until his hips begin to stutter and he knows he can’t hold out for much longer. He holds her close as he works her through it, whispering sweet words against her cheek. “Tha’s it, love. So good for me.” The furrow between his brows is deep as he feels the start of his own orgasm building and numbing his legs. He grunts against her mouth as she holds him to her, working her hips as best she can as he rocks into her, bottoming out and staying there for a moment. 

“Come on, H. Want you to come inside.” She whimpers, the fluttering of her walls enticing him to do just that. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my come? Gonna take it all?” He rambles behind a wanton moan, his muscles tensing with every word that fell from his lips. She’s crying out his name, begging for his load in a way that makes Harry never want to stop coming. With three more thrusts, his body tenses on top of hers, and she continues to roll her hips as ropes of come paint her insides. Her name falls from his lips as he empties his balls within her, and she watches the way his face contorts, his mouth making an o shape. She kisses his face softly as he comes to, heavy grunts leaving his mouth and his chest heaving against hers frantically. 

It silent for a moment as they catch their breath, the sun has set beyond the horizon and a purple hue covers them. All that can be heard is their labored breath and Lauren carts her fingers through his hair as he softens inside her. She doesn’t want him to move, quite honestly. She has never felt closer to him than she does now, and she fears that if he moves that feeling will go away. Her heart pounds within her chest, her legs beginning to ache and she knows that she should clean the mess between her legs. Before she can move Harry’s slipping from her fold with a moan and grabbing her discarded t-shirt from the floor before bringing it between her legs. Harry laughs at the way Lauren scrunches her face as he uses her shirt to clean her up and he knows it’s only because it’s hers. 

“Didn’t wanna move too far from you just yet.” He laughs and presses a kiss on the side of her mouth. She hums, wrapping her arms around his neck before bringing his mouth back to hers to kiss him slowly. When his tongue enters her mouth she sighs, relaxes into the cushions of the bench and all of her worry dissipates. There was nothing to worry about. Harry loved her and she loved him and time had proven that the only thing that had gotten between that was themselves. She was certain she wouldn’t let that happen again and as their kiss deepened, Harry’s thoughts mirrored hers. 

“Love you, you know tha’?” He hums when they pull apart for a moment and she smiles softly, brushing the fallen hair away from his forehead with a nod. She repeats the sentiment and sits up, stretching her legs with a wince. Harry’s pulling her into his lap, unable to keep his hands off of her for more than a second now that he knows that he can, and Lauren sighs as she rests her head against his shoulder and watches out the window.

“We should take a bath, H. Think you broke my back near the end there.” A loud laugh pulls from his chest and he’s standing up with her in his arms. “M’sorry, love. Let’s go get you all put back together again.” He kisses her forehead tenderly and she can’t fight the smile that splits across her face. “Love you.” She sighs, burying her face into his neck as she crosses her ankles against his ass. 

“Love you, sunshine.”

2.14.21

Masterlist

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x3 thoughts

Brendan Hunt confirmed on Twitter that the writers wrote the first three episodes of the season with the intention of releasing them on the same day, just as they dropped the first three episodes of season one on the same day. Having finally watched the first three over three different weeks, I really wish they’d been able to launch all three on the same day. I really liked the first two episodes of the season, but the third episode really puts a lot of things into context. Between the political storyline, the return of Sassy (and a bit of a level-setting conversation between Sassy, Rebecca, and Ted) and Rebecca’s navigation of her professional life as an all-in club owner and her experience reconnecting to Nora...all of that feels like we’re done setting up the season now. Exposition complete—and to the writers’ credit, all three of these episodes are far more than exposition. A lot of story has happened.

So much so that this week’s installment has categories.

Sassy and Ted and Rebecca

Hahahahahahahahahaha

No, seriously though, I love that they are mature adults about this and I also love that Ted is Uncomfortable and, to be perfectly honest, I like that Sassy’s aggressive unfilteredness becomes an opportunity for the show to venture into more sexual references and humor about characters other than Keeley and Roy. It was a lot of information!

I’ve seen a couple of people express disappointment that Ted seems weirded out by Sassy discussing Nora’s impending first period, but I didn’t get the impression that he was grossed out by periods. There is a lot going on! Nora is right outside the room with the door open and Sassy has run through a lot of very personal topics! I felt like his reaction was more about the proximity issue in specific and the personal nature of the conversation in general more than anything else.

So many thoughts about the intersection between the biscuits and this conversation that it had to go in its own post.

Nora!

I LOVE Nora. I want every episode of this show to be about her. I want this sitcom to be called Nora Collins.

I love that Nora’s a little bit sassy (pun on her mother’s nickname only lazily intended) in the way a thirteen-year-old can be, but also enthusiastic about spending time with Rebecca and genuinely interested in meeting everyone her godmother knows. Rebecca genuinely hurt Nora, but Nora can clearly see that Rebecca is all-in on their mended relationship, and that gives her the space to be a bit teasing. She knows Rebecca’s weaknesses and has a little fun (the cooking joke when Rebecca offers to make popcorn?!) but also isn’t going to manipulate her or take advantage.

The British doll company and all the riffs on American Girl dolls, OMG. So good.

Like literally everyone, I am extremely into Rebecca and Roy actually being friends and exchanging words with each other this season. Now everyone in the group of four mains have had some great conversational moments with each other this season (I count Ted and Keeley being into Sharon’s bike as a great conversational moment, OK?!), with the exception of Roy and Ted. Cannot wait for that.

During the photo op with the team, Sassy and Rebecca remark on how Nora is loving and hating having her picture taken with Sam and the rest of the players, and that is THE experience of being thirteen years old, and Kiki May does an incredible job infusing all of Nora’s moments with the right proportions of enthusiasm to cringe. Thirteen years olds are constantly cringing but still full of spirit and life, and at constantly changing ratios, and Nora is the perfect embodiment of that.

My heart melted during the email-writing scene. Rebecca’s writing the email on Nora’s computer! In the guest room where her goddaughter is staying! They’re wearing pajamas! And Rebecca’s smile is so genuinely huge and delighted when she signs it “boss ass bitch.”

Led Tasso and Jamie’s Redemption

This was so stupid and I loved it so much. I love that Ted’s angry alter ego is absurd rather than scary, kind of like a parody of how worked up some men get over sports. I wonder if Led Tasso’s appearance in some way foreshadows a more uncontrolled, genuine anger from Ted in a later episode, because this Led Tasso dude is ridiculous.

Tentative kudos to Led Tasso for being able to point out the, ahem, clit of the soccer ball even from within a fugue state.

The entire Chuck E. Cheese exchange with Sharon was so hilarious and wonderful.

When Ted has the idea to bring out Led Tasso, Nate assumes he’s going to suggest that Jamie talk to Sharon. I absolutely adore the implication that Jamie’s growth over this episode is attributable to both Led Tasso and Sharon Fieldstone. Because while some players are still unmoved by Jamie’s willingness to stand up to Led, it didn’t go unnoticed! And then I was so proud of Keeley for refusing to take on the emotional labor of listening to Jamie when she was too busy with her actual job, and I felt that Jamie’s pretty immediate willingness to see what the therapy thing was all about was extremely in line with his character. He’s always seeking out Keeley to talk, and sometimes he actually means “talking” when he asks to talk with her! Jamie feels like someone who’s standing at a wall of doors, knocking on each one, trying to see what sticks. He really lacks foundation. I’m curious to know what he and Sharon spoke about in their session, but I like that the writers left the session private. The knowledge that he’s started seeing a psychologist is valuable information in and of itself, and Jamie’s decision to act in solidarity with Sam and the other Nigerian players is the perfect evidence that he’s thinking in new ways.

Sam and Dubai Air

Toheeb Jimoh is always great, but he’s so great in this episode. It’s cool to see his demeanor, pacing, and confidence shift as he becomes more at home with the team—and it’s also lovely to see that he, unlike Jamie, very much has a strong foundation in his home country, his supportive parents, his own moral center.

I like that Sam didn’t spend a bunch of time and emotional labor on teaching Jamie why caring about other people (and the environment!) matters, because that would’ve undercut the other political messages in this episode. Sam’s leading by example and everyone can either catch up or stay out, and it’s really great.

I really like the way they handled the press conference with Ted and Sam. I like that Ted gave the floor to Sam but prefaced that with very brief (for once!) remarks of his own. And I appreciated that Ted acknowledged his position of privilege, and that the angle isn’t that bad things never happen to white dudes but rather that when bad things do happen to people like Ted, it gets attention with so much less effort than when bad things happen to people who aren’t white men. Because that’s how privilege works—it’s not a shield that prevents bad things from happening to you, but it’s a safety net that ensures people will notice and address and even pitch in to take care of your bad things, often at the expense of the people who lack that privilege.

There’s probably lots of other stuff I could talk about, like the hilariously and realistically bad usernames on Bantr and Keeley brushing her snacks off the desk and into her purse and how things between Beard and Jane are clearly very, very bad and I’m worried about Beard and how it was soooo fun and lovely to see Shannon teasing Ted again (little coffee and football rituals before work are the kinds of details I absolutely live for) and HIGGINS PRETENDING REBECCA SENT HIM A BRILLIANT AND HEROIC EMAIL (which she does for real with Nora’s help just a couple scenes later!) and how delighted I was to feel that by this episode this season has really hit its stride and feels like a fully lived-in portrayal of the energized, loving, imperfect, busy, full place that is the whole AFC Richmond community. Honestly, Higgins pretending Rebecca sent that email because he wants to make her look good in front of her granddaughter is kind of the perfect encapsulation of what this episode felt like. This is a show about a bunch of imperfect people who want each other to succeed.

Edited to add: I was delighted to find out Ashley Nicole Black was writing for the show and the writing here did the opposite of disappoint! ❤️

[ilovejevsjeans]

Why '5/10' Ricciardo isn't giving up on his McLaren quest

“Oh, don’t make me do that!”

In a routine McLaren interview with selected members of the media, Daniel Ricciardo is asked to give himself a grade for his performances this season.

“From an on-track point of view, like a results point of view, I wouldn't give myself too much of a flattering grade,” he says. “But I don't want to say what I think! Because that just makes me sound pretty shit.”

After eight races, Ricciardo is ninth in the drivers’ standings. He has finished sixth three times, but never higher. In qualifying, he’s been knocked out in Q2 on three occasions, and in Portugal didn't even make it past Q1. Most importantly, he has less than half the points scored by teammate Lando Norris, who in 2021 has done everything to make Ricciardo's difficult adaptation as glaring as possible.

"On a more positive, on like an off-track grade, I'll definitely give myself a nine," he says. "Definitely, the results aren't through a lack of trying. And I certainly feel like I've put in the work.

"I think it will eventually come to fruition, and it will show. But so far the on-track stuff, I don't know… call it a five out of ten. I'm certainly wanting to improve that."

The start of the 2021 season has been difficult for every driver who's changed teams. But it bears admitting that Ricciardo's struggles are more notable. Sergio Perez has already won a race (admittedly in fortuitous circumstances) for Red Bull, Carlos Sainz Jr is close to Charles Leclerc's points total at Ferrari, Sebastian Vettel is having his renaissance at Aston Martin, and even Fernando Alonso after two years away is now regularly beating Alpine teammate Esteban Ocon.

These guys no longer need to find the words to talk about adaptation, a lack of mileage in pre-season testing and car specifics. They are facing fewer questions of that nature. But not Ricciardo.

"I've been trying to use different kinds of analogies to explain to – without being rude – the outside world, to try and get the words across," he says. "Ultimately, yes, I've been driving F1 for a few years and all the cars are… they're not the same, but it's the same category at least.

"But with some of the way the car is at the moment, some of the quirks and the way it likes to be driven, I'm basically trying to get good at kick a ball with my left foot. My instinct is obviously kick a ball with my right foot, that's easy. But now to really perfect this car, I'm trying to now learn how to kick with my left. That's maybe a good analogy."

Even if it is a good analogy, you'd think a driver of Ricciardo's race-winning calibre should have already figured out that left-foot kick – and he too is keenly aware that it's not a process that can go on forever.

"Once you can kind of balance it on this nice little knife edge, the car can certainly be quick," he explains. "And I think that's probably another way of putting it as well, is that it does have a bit of a sweet spot, but it is just quite small. And obviously, if you're outside of it, then you're not getting the performance.

"Even Lando is saying the car is quite different this year. And, you know, the tyres have changed, and most drivers seem to be commenting about that. And now the floors are narrower at the rear. So there's some changes as well, which maybe even if I was still in Renault or Alpine this year, maybe there would be some similar kind of comments or difficulties.

"But I've got to a point now where I'm also trying not to fill my head with it. It is different, sure. But it can't be different forever. At some point, this is it, this is the car I've got, and 'different' needs to become 'normal' and get on with it."

Ricciardo's difficulties are made more curious by the fact that two years ago he'd already switched teams, and his adaptation from Red Bull to Renault had proved much smoother. But with McLaren it's a different situation, he insists.

"I think, going into a new team, you're always going to have to find or adapt to something," he says. "And I would say adapting to the Renault, I was still able to adapt with a similar driving style or something that was more natural for me. Yeah, the car felt different, but I could still approach it with the same style.

"Where this one now, currently the car feels different. I think the Renault, there was some adaptation but also I could still kind of use my style, call it instinct. Where the McLaren, it's a little more detailed than that, I guess. I look at it as a positive as well, like in the long run if I can learn how to drive with a different style, then I have more tools in my arsenal."

The faster "different becomes normal" for Ricciardo, the better for McLaren. The team is currently fighting with Ferrari for third place in the constructors' standings and needs a strong Ricciardo to hold onto the position it claimed last year.

"I told them, 'I'll be half a second quicker,'" he laughs when responding to a question about whether his expectations of McLaren have matched reality – perhaps hinting that, if there is a side that hasn't had its expectations met, it's McLaren itself.

Yet Ricciardo's broad smile suggests that, for his part, he is satisfied.

"I think, from a team feeling and environment, like I'm very, very, very happy", he says. "I would love to think that they are also happy.

"It's just now really sorting the on-track stuff, and getting, obviously, the stopwatch going. I think we're in a position now where, yes, currently I need to drive this car better. But I think we also don't want to lose, let's call it my strengths and what got me to this position.

"There's also the two-way street of me continuously giving feedback to the team about, 'Okay, what you guys can do better to help me'. They're obviously trying to help me drive the current car, but I'm trying to help them get the car to obviously a happier place [so] that it's not like, you know, [me] overthinking every corner and trying to be with this style here and this style there, ultimately to get to a place where we can drive naturally.

"I think when you're free, that's normally when the lap time comes, so it's a two-way process now. The team has been great, and I want to give them more, absolutely. But I think they also understand that it's a journey. I signed a three-year contract with them. We'd love to have fireworks already, but we know that we've got time on our side to get it right, and go through the process properly.

"I think with McLaren, there's a lot of things I love. They tick every box, and there's always follow-ups. If I ask a question, if they can't answer it immediately, then, you know, I'll be sure to get a phone call or an email or something.

"And they're also very open-minded. There is some new faces in the team. But there's also some people who have been at McLaren for years and years, but they're also not holding on to the world championships from however long ago, they're constantly trying to be better, evolve, stay with the times. The mindset creates a really nice energy in the team and that's really cool."

There's definitely light at the end of the tunnel. Ricciardo enjoyed a strong drive to sixth in the French Grand Prix, pulling off some striking overtakes, while in last weekend's Styrian Grand Prix he could have finished higher than his eventual 13th without a short-lived loss of power that led to him allowing four rivals through on the seventh lap. And, all in all, Ricciardo did score six times in the first eight races of the season.

"It's funny, because I look at Bahrain and I outqualified Lando," he points out. "I think I was the only new driver to do it, you know, in the new team. So it's funny, you look at race one, you're like, 'oh, well this is, you know, a 10 out of 10'.

"But currently, it's probably been a bit of unfamiliar territory. Because normally, especially like qualifying, when I need to pull the trigger, so to speak, I can find the lap time – I don't want to say easily – but relatively comfortable. And it's certainly taking a bit more probably just conscious effort at the moment, so that's where it's been a bit more challenging. But yeah, although my score says 'call it a five' – and it's what it is now – I am uberconfident that increases as the year goes on.

"So panic not, my friends."

In the end, Ricciardo simply has no choice. Whatever it takes, he needs to make it work with McLaren, as it's probably his last chance to go for the title, even if right now it looks like a long shot. Mercedes and Ferrari didn't make a play for his services when he was a free agent, and there's probably no way back to Red Bull either.

If Ricciardo still wants to win the title, he's got to do it with McLaren. And he hasn't got that much time left either.

"I think it was Monaco 2016, where I was talking about my age," Ricciardo, now 32, says. "Now that I've got older, I'm in my 30s, I think the reality is I'll be in this for as long as I want, in terms of the age. At least for now it isn't going to slow me down, not in the next few years.

"If I'm still hungry and determined, I can keep that window open for the title. I'm aware now [a chance] to win five titles is becoming slimmer and slimmer. But still to win one, I think there's time on my side.

"The McLaren one is certainly where my ambition is. And I definitely want to see this one through hopefully with a lot of success." (X)

[tracybirds]

Paper Dreams

John receives a prestigious invite and he’s not sure how to respond.

Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for the encouragement because I am nerves!!

*                      *                      *

The crisp white envelope was heavy in his hands as he hurried from the room. Paper was a formality, a mark of distinction that would surely draw his brothers’ unwanted attention. Letters didn’t just arrive unannounced in this era of high-speed data connections and quantum supercomputers. In fact, they didn’t arrive at all.

So, John was more than a little apprehensive when Grandma Tracy silently handed him the sealed envelope and walked away.

It took only a few short minutes to read through the contents and he sat back against the window in his room, the words whirling in his mind.

Mars Colonisation Project. Distinguished candidate. Invited to apply.

An opportunity of a lifetime.

A way to prove for once and for all that he was more than his father’s famous name.

John clutched at the letter, the paper crinkling in his grasp. He mouthed the words as he read them, over and over.

He looked up at the sound of a loud yell calling his name, hurriedly shoving the letter into the envelope and dropping it at his side. Snatching up a nearby tablet, his flushed ears were the only hint of the letter that remained when Gordon shoved open the door.

“John, dinner, hurry up.”

His brother tore out of the room before he could respond.

*                      *                      *

John slipped into his seat, mouthing an apology to Grandma Tracy as he did.

“Finally!” cried Alan. He wriggled back in his seat, staring hopefully at the food. “Grandma said we had to wait for you, you took forever!”

“Is Dad not eating?” asked Virgil. “I heard him come in.”

“He’s taking it in the study tonight,” said Grandma Tracy, shaking her head slightly. “Brains dropped by and they’re holing up together on that project of theirs.”

John glanced over at the conspicuously empty seat at the head of table. They all knew what ‘that project’ meant.

In the heady rush of excitement, he’d all but forgotten the silent expectation that accompanied his studies and extra-curriculars for the past five years. A pet project alone wouldn’t have been enough to deter him from his own ambitions, but the Thunderbirds, they offered something different, something more than the office politics of academia, squabbling over research grants.

He’d never known anything that could compete.

Until now.

“Hey,” said Virgil in a low tone, nudging him from his thoughts. “You okay?”

John pulled himself back into the present with a slight grimace.

“Fine. Just thinking about an assignment.”

Virgil nodded slowly, looking him up and down with a critical eye.

“Are you going to eat anything, or just push it around?”

John automatically lifted his fork, blinking as the peas fell back to the plate and landed in a pile of mushy, grey potatoes.

“Actually, I’m not that hungry.”

“Can I have yours?” asked Alan, already reaching over to grab at his plate.

“Not hungry, John?” asked Grandma Tracy. “You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

She examined the pinched look in his face and the nervous twist of one hand inside the other.

“No,” said John, wishing he hadn’t said anything. The last thing he wanted was any level of scrutiny. “I’m fine, Grandma, honest.”

He let Alan scrape his leftovers from his plate, realising with a pang than he’d had another growth spurt over the previous semester at his boarding school.

If he left for Mars, he’d return to a brother he’d hardly recognise.

Colonisation was a long-term project, the result of years in planning and decades of dreams. Countless people would put their life’s work into its development and they had every right to expect the same of their astronauts. The application process alone was heavily involved and would severely limit time with his family, to say nothing of the many years ahead for him on Mars if he made it all the way into space. He’d be travelling millions of miles from home, only to find himself living with a group of strangers that he couldn’t escape without logging an external environment report.

He didn’t even like sharing a bathroom at the university housing that much.

Still the piece of paper called to him.

“Can I be excused?”

Grandma Tracy nodded and he hurried from the room, not noticing her troubled look.

The warmth of the room followed him into the hallway and he shut the door firmly behind him. He thrust his hand into his pocket, searching for the reassuring touch of cool paper.

It was real.

It was real and if he let the opportunity pass by, he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Or he might be wasting his time, pinning his hopes on something that would only serve to distract him in the long run. He could only imagine what Scott would say, who’d never once taken his eye off a prize once he’d decided to aim for it.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he wanted, and found himself climbing into the cramped space under the roof that had generously called a playroom, then a study, then an attic.

He blinked as the bare bulb overhead lit the small room, filling it with old memories and dust.

His first telescope was still standing in the corner, pointing high in the sky and he lifted the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the dust away. Surrounding it, lay stacks of books that his mom had picked up from the local thrift store, that Mrs Delaney, the owner, put them aside just for him.

John walked carefully among them, tugging the small window open and staring out into the night. The stars shone bright in the clear, crisp air.

Crouching down, he peered through the eye piece, adjusting the focus with a practiced hand. The little reflector was nothing like the giant telescopes available at the college department, and he had to hold his breath to stop the stand from wobbling. But the universe was still out there, the same as it was when he was a kid, still holding an infinite number of mysteries despite the years he had spent uncovering the rules that held it together.

He looked up, eyes darting through the familiar patterns, searching for the anomaly he knew was wandering between Gemini and Taurus.

And there it was.

Mars.

A planet with so much to offer the world they lived on. Where he could work with a team of people who loved space just like him, where he could devote his life to researching astronomy from a new perspective and developing technology for interplanetary life for generations to come.

Where he could leave his mark alongside all the heroes of his childhood. Alongside his dad.

“After all, why shouldn’t I go?” he said, scowling up at Mars.

“Go where?”

John spun around with a start.

“Kayo! When did you get in?”

She shrugged, propping up her head with her hand.

“Long enough to see you come up here,” she said. “I waited for you, but then Mrs Tracy said you hadn’t eaten. Figured something was wrong.”

She looked him up and down with a piercing eye. John tried not to squirm. He’d always felt Kayo had something of a sixth sense when it came to knowing things that should have been a secret.

“Seems like I was right,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Then where are you planning on going?”

“Nowhere. I don’t think, that is…”

He flopped down and tilted his head back with a huff.

“Not right now, at any rate.”

Kayo pulled herself up onto the floor and drew the ladder upwards.

Neither spoke as the trapdoor shut with a small ‘click’.

The dust swirled in the air, dancing in the shafts of light above them.

“Is it a graduate program?”

“No.”

“An international program?”

“No.”

“A long-term space colonisation program for specially selected candidates who have already proven themselves in the fields of communications, astrophysics and astrotechnology?”

John stared at her.

She shrugged.

“It’s my job to know.”

“So, why even ask?”

“I’m trying to get you to lower your guard.”

She smiled at the dumbfounded look on his face.

“You’ve met Brains, right? He’s got some server tracker that flags your name. They asked your advisor for academic and personal references months ago.”

“Oh God,” said John, dropping his head in his ands and staring wildly at the floor. “Does Dad already know?”

Kayo shook her head.

“Dad and I do. Security details and all. But we don’t tell him that kind of stuff, you know, he’s not spying on you.”

“You’re right, that’s a real comfort,” said John, drily.

Kayo tossed her head.

“I’m just saying.”

Her eyes softened as she watched him draw his knees close to his chest.

“He doesn’t know.” She hesitated, still watching him. “Would it be all that bad if he did though?”

John huffed a little, still staring at his knees.

“International Rescue’s all we’ve ever talked about,” he said. “I didn’t think there’d be anything else I wanted. What if I let him down?”

“He’s already proud of you, John.”

“But we’ve been working towards it for so long now. This would change everything. Delay the full scope of the project for months, or years even.”

Kayo snorted.

“You really think Jeff Tracy, resident billionaire and with access to the best tech in the world, wouldn’t be able to find another genius astrotechnician and communication expert?”

John shot her a withering look.

“Okay, so maybe he’d have to find two super geniuses.”

She easily dodged the picture book he threw in her direction.

“Leave off,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Kayo spotted the slight smile though, and grinned broadly in return.

“Can I?” she asked, nodding at the space between him and the wall.

John nodded and shuffled over as best he could, trying not to topple the book stacks around them.

Kayo wriggled into the gap, and John paid her no mind.

He hadn’t thought of who would take his place because, of course, someone must. He’d been preparing for an International Rescue without him, one where his family diverted communications for a few years and focused their efforts on establishing themselves on land and sea until Alan stepped into his role on Thunderbird Five.

He hadn’t imagined an International Rescue where he wasn’t even needed.

Kayo seemed to sense the turn in his thoughts, nudging him gently to pull him from them.

“He wouldn’t trust them half as much as you, you know.”

John shrugged.

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t want that to be the only reason I don’t go.”

He took a deep breath, and glanced back up at the slowly setting planet.

“And I want to go,” he admitted. “I do. I need to tell him.”

Kayo nodded, a sad look in her eyes. They sat in silence together, lost in their own thoughts. The bustle of the house downstairs filtered upwards. Muffled bangs and indistinct shouts of Gordon and Alan playing some ridiculous game, loud music from Virgil’s room – the kind he put on to drown out any interruption to his painting. Grandma Tracy seemed to be having some kind of one-sided conversation with herself, until John remembered, with a pang, that it was Saturday morning out in Guam and she was likely speaking to Scott at that very moment.

Kayo sighed and dropped her head on John’s shoulder.

“I’d miss you though.”

John swallowed carefully past the sudden lump in his throat.

“I’d miss you too.”

*                      *                      *

John was too old to be summoned to his father’s study, but somehow deliberately interrupting him felt worse. Nausea sat like a rock in his stomach, his voice box left in tatters as he knocked on the solid oak door.

“Who is it?”

He couldn’t reply.

His eyes flitted across the family photos that littered the hallway, landing finally on the image of his father and crewmates waving to the masses as they entered the Herschel-VI.

The photograph didn’t show the way his father was blind to the crowd, his farewell only for the woman who stood half a mile from the launchpad, proud, so proud, and sick with worry too. She held tight to her eldest son with one hand, and rested her other on the stroller she was rocking back and forth. She didn’t see the way he had wriggled out of his restraints nor how he was preparing to drop to the ground and run away, already intent on chasing after his father at three years old.

Jeff Tracy, first man on Mars, opened the door with a frown and a touch of impatience, and John knew there would be no escape this time.

“John.”

“Dad.”

His throat closed around his words and his hand closed around the letter in a fist.

Jeff looked down at the sound, and looked back at John, an assessing look in his eye. He stepped back wordlessly and John entered the severe room.

“What’s happened, son?” he asked, holding his hand out for the letter.

He smoothed down the crumpled edges as he read, his eyes leaping from phrase to phrase on the page.

“Well, it seems congratulations are in order. I assume you intend to accept?”

The knot in John’s chest loosened and he collapsed into the chair opposite Jeff.

“I intend to apply,” he corrected, staring down at the desk between them.

“John, they don’t reach out like this unless they want you onboard. They intend you to be on that shuttle, regardless of the formalities the bureaucrats put in place.”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blueprints, Brains’ small, neat handwriting annotating each design and his father’s looping comments scrawled liberally across them.

Jeff followed his line of sight and smiled.

“Five won’t be operational for a few more years, you know that. Don’t let her be what holds you back.”

“But this was always it, this is why I’m getting space rated. And the satellite network still needs to be launched, and the orbital mechanics calculated.”

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come your way twice, son.”

John stopped.

“You think I should accept. If they say yes.”

“Don’t you?”

There it was. His father’s blessing laid out in front of him, just waiting to be taken up like a pennant.

Everything they’d worked for, everything they’d sacrificed, gone. In its place, a single shining achievement, a global community on their sister planet. The first of its kind.

It had been a long time since John had allowed himself to dream his own dreams.

“Alright,” he said, a giddy rush spinning his head so that he hardly knew what he was saying. “I’m gonna do it.”