#that dream has really got me so fucked up because ive never done that before I've never had the lines of fictional characters blur so much

[bardengarde]

I'm still missing my friend Sidney

[pansy-picnics]

How would the tangled kids react to Varian and Cassandra’s villain arc? Also I love your art 😊

AJDJDJDGG OKAY SO. this is SO fucking good but ive been putting it off for so long bc i wanted to draw something to go with it but i’ve just. never figured out what so inevitably i’m just gonna answer it on its own

this subject in particular is SO FUNNY for me to think about bc i think the kids’ reactions depend a lot on how their parents talk abt it and both of them handle it in COMPLETELY different ways. like uknighted dream is pretty open abt it (obviously they give the incredibly watered down kid-safe version) and they kinda use it as a learning experience? like in very vague terms.

its kinda just like

alina: oh why are you and mama cass fighting in your drawing :(

rapunzel: <:) well yknow how if you shake a bottle of soda, when you open it it explodes everywhere?? well sometimes when we bottle up our feelings and don’t do anything with them or talk to someone we trust, they end up getting all shaken up in there, and eventually theyll explode! mama cass and i used to have a lot of trouble talking about our feelings, and because of all those emotions that got bottled up and shaken around in there, we found it hard to properly communicate with each other at all. but then we realized how much we really cared about each other and how we really wanted to make things work, so we learned to be more honest about how we felt and how to communicate with one another without everything just ‘exploding’, so to speak. and thats why we always teach you how to manage your big emotions, does that make sense? :)

on the other hand VARIAN? literally could not care less. at least not with the ud kids. he still has one of his wanted posters that hugo grabbed as a “souvenir” on their trip, and the automaton he used to fight rapunzel? its still in the corner of his lab and he pulls it apart regularly for scrap metal.

ryder will be wandering around his lab when hes like 7 and hes like “uncle vari whats that”

varian: that’s an automaton buddy

ryder: did you make it?

varian: yeah

ryder: what’s it for

varian: well nothing now it’s just spare parts. but i actually made it a long time ago to fight your mom

ryder: which one

varian: both actually. and technically your dad. but mostly rapunzel

ryder: oh

ryder: did you win?

varian: no it wasnt really that kind of fight. nobody won

ryder: oh that’s boring

ryder: can i try it

varian: absolutely not

when emery comes along though varian is like “okay we are Never addressing this again” bc em thinks varian is SO cool and varian actually cares So much about his newfound image. (very stupid of him for that to be his main priority obviously bc emery is like 4 and if she knew what he did she would probably just be like “okay. can i have apple juice”)

anyways yeah ilmari and the twins don’t really tell her anything either because they don’t really see it as anything worth telling her about, especially in comparison to way more important things like the fact that lance will sometimes sneak you dessert before dinner if you can convince eugene he has a gray hair without him catching on. so obviously emery grows up fairly unaware of anything varian has done but the defining factor is that shes constantly hearing about it out of context and is just left to struggle with that enigma.

like you know the experience of being like 14 years old at the family thanksgiving and you get to sit at the grown ups table for the first time and hear about all their weird beef and inside jokes and also hear your aunt mention out of context that hey your dad went to prison once bc that’s LITERALLY what the tangled kids experience in relation to their parents’ pasts. like the twins forgot about most of what varian told them by the time they grew up, they knew the watered down version of what happened with cass but they never knew the little details right. so they’ll just be hanging out playing checkers together while the adults are sitting across the room chatting over drinks and varian jokes “oh man its just like that one time cass kidnapped me” and all the kids immediately whip their heads around like “WHAT?”

this is ESPECIALLY true with emery who’s parents are notorious for having more insults for each other than pet names. em could just be reading by the fireplace late one night and var and hugo come out for a midnight snack and just start talking like

hugo: sometimes i think maybe objectively we should be evil again. like just for fun

varian: honestly. i took over the kingdom once i could do it again no problem

hugo: you’re probably actually strong enough to do it yourself now 🥺

varian: you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid

emery: ….right so are we just gonna brush over the “again” part or did you guys forget i was here

varian also eventually realizes that by doing this he is replicating EXACTLY how quirin used to be secretive of his own past and how like one day varian just suddenly had to grapple with the knowledge that his dad who baked pies and fed the apple peels to his raccoon probably had a kill count. and obviously varian is absolutely distraught over this revelation

“HUGO HELP ME. I think im becoming my dad” “oh. well hey it happens to all of us it could be worse. besides your dad is hot so like i see it as a win win” “What” “what?”

i should probably also mention that ilmari knew about cass’s villain arc long before they even MET and ilmari actively tries to use this against her when they’re like 13. like “yeah well you cant tell ME what to do i’m gonna tell alina and ryder you tried to stab mom when you were in your 20s” (it doesn’t work btw)

[wiihtigo]

CASEY NATION RISE 7, 9, 17, 20, 23, 25

ask game

7. What’s one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

i used to think that she didnt care much about the art of actually acting and cinema and stuff and for her it was more about just being famous and it didnt matter how. i think that was partially because although i knew i wanted her to lust for fame and money the acting dream was kind of just randomly decided on. i thought i could easily swap it out with modelling or singing or something and it wouldnt make much difference. but the more time ive spent with casey, the more i see her as a true lover of movies and art....which i think leads in well to her endgame job being a script editor rather than an actor. her true talents lie behind the screen even if she herself doesnt see it...

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

whats a girl to do - cristina

a post canon (after nell dies) caseys life anthem:)

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

well i was going to blame it entirely on you that nell dies and i had no say in that but i suppose i did come up with her emotional reaction to that myself, which causes me a lot of slow damage pain. SO I GUESS THAT..the fact she pushes michelle away after it happens is really depressing to me because thats literally her only friend left and only possible pillar of support, but she pushes her away because she hates everything and shes mad shes not nell and shes mad at her family and wants to explode. I think she'd be marginally less suicidal if she stayed friends with her.....

I guess also pulling from alternate realities the one where she dies is pretty fucked up. and very painful. and nell doesnt even make it to her to cradle her in her arms. SAD

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

yyessss. at least when he and nell start getting lowkey. no. highkey #serious. early in their setup he wouldnt gaf if nell was married to a businesswoman in russia.but when they start ummmm [redacted] then hes like waittt. lol waittttttt lol wait. lol. WAITTT. gets a little annoyed when theyre at the doom patrol warehouse party and jayna from the wonder twins tries to get ladybugs number. THATS MY BODYGUARD..GET YOUR OWN. it manifests in that he'll get clingy to nell and mean and passive aggressive (or just aggressive) towards the person pissing him off. will be petty and spiteful (sees some poor scared nervous young lesbian trying to say hi to nell so he slides in and nuzzles up to her shoulder in public to let that sstupid kid know to go away)

idk why he does this. if you asked him if he liked nell he would say And what has she done to MAKE me like her

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

lol GRIEF. little casey has never experienced a death before nell! not even a pet death. she has no idea how to process those feelings or cope with them in the slightest. she goes like catatonic immediately after the fact bcuz shes so completely shocked and wasnt prepared for it at all (lowkey thought ladybug was too awesomeand strong to ever get got. stupidd)

on the complete flip side, also .....l-l-l-l-l-l-l--l-l-l-l-l-l...LOVE. or at least feeling a smidge of serious romantic attraction to someone. in canon end she never gets to deal with that bcuz she only realizes it after nell died and then promptly buried everything related to nell deep inside a hole. but in nyc nell simply has an epic near death experience where hes hospitalized and thats when casey is like fuuuuuuuuuck that scared me. DO I LIKE HER? she acts a bit pathetic and tsundere abt it which is endearing to me personally. maybe scares nell a bit. its cute to me though <3

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

shes not a good person </3 shes selfish and mean and doesnt care about other people </3 bent on revenge and hating </3 genuinely not a good guy </3 i love everything negative about casey the most

i also think secretary characters are sexy.

[rrxnjun]

(im really stupid but i hope u like this fanletter 😭)

hello <3 this is for my favourite writer on tumblr; to the the same writer who does not realise how much their works could mean to someone, the lovely @rrxnjun 🎀 !!!

so, i found your blog at the beginning ot this month– november, 2023, and now that the month's about to end, i have nearly finished reading all your nct works.

to me, this month is the most special one of this year. why? because i found your blog, your stories– some pieces of your mind. i found you through one of those nct fanfic recs, 'take the stairs - njm' being the first work i read from you. it was sweet, it made me happy. and then i read the other two parts of the 'simplify romance' series, which will always hold a special place in my heart.

this year has been the worst for me, with no one for me to lean on to, weird identify crisis shit, and losing myself in this tiring process of growing up. but you know what? you saved 2023 for me. when no one's words could speak to me, yours did. you make me feel a little less lonely.

im a silly teenager, who never read sad/mainly angsty stories before i found you because i was scared, i was confident i'd cry. and i did. i gathered the courage to read angst only because you'd written it, and it was so worth it. ive stayed up so many nights this month just to read your works in peace and privacy, hidden from my family, and then spend the days thinking about how you literally create art, and telling my bestfriends about it. you are blessed. you are phenomenal. no amount of thank yous or i love yous could be enough for me to express my gratitude. you've made me feel so at peace with my thoughts sometimes and you've made me feel like i'm not alone. you have magic in your hands. i owe you so much, i wish i could gift you something, but sadly im still a minor and theres a few years until i finish uni and then get a job, and then i promise i'll get you something, because i am so lucky to be able to read your stories for free. you deserve so much more than followers, likes and reblogs. each one of your fics have made me tear up and all of them are too special for me.

this month ive read all of your nct dream '00 line fics, and my favourite was 'happier than ever' which i finished a week ago— AND I SWEAR THAT FIC DESTROYED ME 😭😭😭 it had me bawling my eyes out for two hours on a school night i love it so so fucking much, i literally think about it daily and i told all my friends about it and im so in love with it, please tell me, for my inner peace that renjun and the reader ended up getting together and being fine because im gonna cry over it for the rest of my life IDC IF THEY DIDNT END UP TOGETHER please lie to me and tell me they did 💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i want you to know, and to remember this whenever you feel even a little like giving up— you have magic, bar, don't ever let go of that magic.

your stories make me want to heal and to help everyone heal. to be loved and to love everyone. to be cared for and care for everyone. your magic helps me survive my days with a little smile. thank you so much for everything you've done for me, without realising you're helping me live.

every single word i wrote here– i swear on everything i have, i genuinely mean it. you are the best thing that happened this year :) i hope that one day someone will love you as much as i love your blog.

(me when i talk about your work)

P.S. permission to take a screenshot of your blog and paste it to my scrapbook by which i can remember my teenage years that your stories mended, please?

thank you for reading, ily ❤️

- your biggest fan (hopefully no one's more dedicated!!) 💘

when i saw this in my inbox i got so emotional i couldnt reply immidiately because i genuinely wanted to sob. this is so so sweet and it mustve taken a long time to type out and i appreciate you a WHOLE lot, not only for this, but also for supporting me sm over the last month. :,)

take the stairs is a very sweet and fun fic and i am glad you found my blog through this one, haha. the simplify romance series holds my favorite fics and i PROMISE to finish jeno's entry at the beginning of the next year!! it HAS to be done. it means a lot to me that you took the time of your day to read my works and that you enjoyed them so much to let me know.

i am happy to hear that my work could help you through some hard times. as a reader on this platform as well, i do know that feeling very well and i could never imagine being that person to someone, but i am glad my words could be there for you when no one else could. hearing this makes all the effort feel worth it, and it's something i'll think of whenever im having a hard time with my work again. i also hope life is nicer to you in the future, and if you ever need someone, my inbox is always open.

having my fics be called art is something i never imagined could happen. it's beyond what i think about my work, but i am honored to hear this compliment, truly. despite being a writer i cant find the words to express my gratitude towards you and your supportive words right now >:( it does mean the whole entire world to me. please do NOT worry about "paying me back" or something, i do this because it's what i love doing and sharing my work with others makes me happy, so an ask like this is more than enough for me. you made me feel really appreciated and i will remember and treasure your kind words forever.

happier than ever is definitely a heavier read, since it's partly from personal experience, hh. i tend to project on renjun a lot so take this as a warning for my other renjun fics LMAO. TT this fic has a special place in my heart and hearing you talk so highly about it makes me all warm on the inside hhhhh my love langugage is words of affirmation stop this or ill cry. i enjoy leaving my fics open-ended to interpretation of the reader, so whatever you feels fits their story is how the story ends for you. <3

i will definitely use this ask as a reminder to not give up when i feel like doing so. it really brought me a lot of strength :) thank you for calling my writing magic. i never imagined someone describing it that way, but it does feel good to hear haha

knowing that my work helped somebody and made them heal and feel all sorts of emotions inside makes me feel at peace. thank you so much. SO much.

also u really make me want to bawl with that scrapbook comment. cant believe im an important part of someone's teenage years :((

once again, words cant express how much this means to me. thank you and i hope my fics continue to be a source of good things for you :) i will think of this often. ily

[hontou-baka]

relationship ranting idk

blurgh i hate when im slapped with similarities between my ex and my current bf

I got married without a wedding, or rings, or anything traditional, to my ex so I could use my own tax info for school (plus it seemed like a safe risk in a seven year long relationship lmao). The semantics of it were clearly unimportant to my ex (i had to buy us both rings, and again, no wedding) and i felt embarrassed bc those things are important to me, so we never told anyone about getting married really.

Now that I'm close to getting the divorce done before baby comes, my bf is talking marriage. But in the same "just for the legal benefits" way. And i do want to get married... And i know it would help his taxes and whatnot... But my heart breaks thinking about doing the exact same dumb thing again, and idk i can make myself do it. Like... Sorry, prove im important enough to you to spend a couple hundred on a cute ring, get some photos of us taken together, hell even if he saved money for a nice elopement trip thats fine! I feel like aggretsuko with the donkey guy... Tadase? Idk i dont remember. Im sorry im kind of basic but as a cisgendered white woman that was raised mormon, ive dreamed about a beautiful wedding and feeling loved and celebrated since childhood... I think i should stand my ground on this :/

Another thing. Both have sleep issues and expect me to get up with them in the morning to help them get ready so they can sleep in as much as possible. And im made to feel bad about it if i complain because i dont have sleep issues. Im sorry you havent bothered your whole adult life to find a way to manage with your sleep problems, and im happy to make you food while you shower here and there, but that should not just be expected of me! And its not reciprocated! Its not like i make him get up with me, i would just leave him be and let him sleep because... I love him? Want him to be comfy? Ugh.

While im venting, ADHD IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO NOT DO CHORES REGULARLY!!!!! I DONT CARE!!!!! IF HIM AND I DONT WORK OUT IM GONNA HAVE ADHD BE A RED FLAG I SWEAR TO GOD BC EVERYONE I KNOW W IT REFUSES TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO LIVE WITH IT!!!! Im getting beyond furious that he has to be asked FOR EVERY. LITTLE. THING. You eat and use dishes. You put your dishes with the other dirty dishes. Thus. YOU ARE LOOKING AT THE PILE OF DIRTY DISHES... MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY. YOU CANNOT USE THE "OUT OF SIGHT OUT OF MIND" EXCUSE IN OUR TINY ROOM!!!! YOU CAN *SEE* THE FULL LAUNDRY BASKET THREE FEET AWAY FROM YOU!!!! YOU CAN SEE THE GOD DAMN CHORE CHART TWO FEET AWAY FROM YOU I MADE SO YOU COULDNT USE THE "BUT IDK WHAT TO DOOO OR HOW TO HEEELP" EXCUSE!!!!! YOU CAN SMELL WHEN THE CAT TAKES A HUMAN SIZED SHIT AND KNOW YOU NEED TO SCOOP TOMORROW!!!!!! YOU!!!! JUST!!!!! DONT!!!!!!! *WANT TO*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the funniest fucking thing is i TRULY wouldnt mind having a more "traditional" setup, id be fine doing 90% of the chores if he even worked 20 hours/wk consistently. But im thinking as soon as i feel recovered from birth i want to find a job myself because he just lets his anxiety win too much and cant hold a job, and i have actual goals in life lmao 🤪🤪🤪 but if i made him a stay at home parent im sure id be coming home to a world of frustration (things that need done never being done). Im just at the end of my rope bc with chronic mental and physical health issues, i get he cant do what most people can (same goes for me, not as severe on the physical side tho) but god it so often feels like weaponized incompetence. And i think it partially is. Ive talked to him about this over and over and it always ends with "just tell me or ask... Even though you shouldn't have to..." BUT THATS THE POINT!!!! IM NOT GONNA BEG YOU TO HELP ME KEEP OUR LIVING QUARTERS NOT MISERABLE, MAN!!!!! USE YOUR EYES AND YOUR HEAD!!!!

I joked about banning war thunder for a week post birth and he seemed shocked id even think about asking him to not game for a week (his only hobby/leisure activity). Idk.

ok that feels better i guess ill get back to my mashed potatoes

[allamericanb-tch]

only the brave thoughts (2)

chapter 7

regulus being overstimulated by the mail is so real

ooh he got a mysterious package

“Regulus reminds himself he has to breathe.” BYE

“It takes Barty a moment, then he realises what’s causing Regulus so much distress. “Is it because I’m touching you or is it because a boy is holding your hand?”” BARTYLUS HELLO

““If you want to shag a dude, do it for you. Not to get back at him.”” you tell him reggie

ooh james pov

HELLO HE DUELED MOODY AND JOINED THE ORDER

“He’s also James’ new crush, in a platonic, you’re so impressive I want to be you when I grow up kind of way.”

james in his liar era

okay he’s giving us a recap

remuuu

wolfstar wolfstar wolfstar

chapter 8

HELLO THIS CHAPTER IS CALLED KISS ME

bartylus AND jegulus ?! show it to me rachellll

omg barty has a crush on regulus doesn’t he and evan has a crush on barty

pandora had another dream

stag ?! james ?!

i’m so invested in this omg

bartylus jump scare

HUH

ARE THEY ABOUT TO KISS

my face is legit like 😧 right now

im so nervy that someone is going to walk in and that it’s going to be james

oh me oh my they’re kissing

they’re really going at it aren’t they

STOP IM IN MY CAR RN (parked dw) AND MY WINDOWS WERE DOWN BC ITS HOT OUTSIDE AND THERE WAS A SPIDER

james sent regulus cigarettes ?! he’s so whipped

THATS WHAT THE PACKAGE WAS OH

wolfstar

what about james eyelashes

““Sirius has pretty eyes and long lashes,” says Remus casually. Sirius chokes on his juice, spills all around him. Marlene shoots him a knowing smile that he misses because he’s too busy fighting for his life.”

BYE I DROVE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD there were no other cars around and ive literally never done that before okay (im not driving rn)

oooh james following regulus out of the great hall

🎶started with a kiss oh we must stop meeting like this🎶 (they have not kissed yet sadly)

regulus hadn’t even opened the package

they’re flirting they’re flirting they’re flirting

they need to kiss so badly please

chapter 9

oh regulus

the Great British Brew-Off

dorlene ?!

“I know that Evan thinks you’re having a secret, torrid affair with Barty,”

dorcas pov ahhhh

DORCAS TELLING BARTY SHE THINKS EVAN HAS A CRUSH ON REGULUS 😭😭

dorcas is plotting

rosekiller rosekiller rosekiller

james pov

“Sirius is humming happily, completely unbothered that his knee is dangerously close to killing James’ hopes of being a father one day.”

has sirius finally realized he likes remus

chapter 10

“But in this moment, Regulus hates James Potter because he’s somehow gone and made Regulus believe that perhaps he’d show up.” GASP

come on james go get your man

james pov

snivellus eugh

i’m sorry i hate the word growl

gasp

did he just sectumsempra sirius

the way the last thing sirius said was that remus is beautiful

WAS JAMES ABOUT TO CRUCIO SEVERUS OH

“I mean. Regulus did see James shirtless and covered in blood less than twenty-four hours ago. It was way hotter than it should have been.”

oh snapes cauldron exploded did it 

platonic moonwater save me platonic moonwater

chapter 11

need james and regulus to get together

edward ?! what

omg dorcas is moving in with barty james and reg

OH ?!

i gasped the plot twist omg

omg james is sneaking out is he going to find regulus ahhhh

oh wait no he’s going to sirius

prongsfoot friendship ❤️‍🩹

remus pov ahhhh

duel

oooh he’s in

ohhh it’s sirius turn im nervy

lily and remus both know james has a crush on a boy i see

pan james save me pan james 

“Fuck Sirius Black. Honestly. Also, yes. Fuck Sirius Black. He wishes.” 

they’re all in the orderrrr ahhhh

regulus pov

ooooh james is here

they’re falling off the roof together 😭

rubik’s cube hello

chapter 12

james is so determined

he’s asking mary and lily bc he knows they’re muggle born wait that’s actually so cute

oh no does lily have a crush on james 

remus tweaking when he sees sirius will never not be funny

“People are going to swoon at my feet.” they already are sirius, they already are

regulus pov

they’re on the roof again

HUH ???

ooh match time

gryffindor won

ooooh dorcas is here

i want james to leave and go find regulus

wolfstarrrr

oooooh he’s leaving i manifested this

bye regulus is being mean

omg they’re going flying together i can’t just stop reading here can i

chapter 13 

this needs to be my last chapter today

omg

LAVENDER I KNEW IT DID I NOT SAY THIS WOULD COME UP LATER

guys i’m freaking out rn (pos)

REGULUS JUST DROPPED JAMES OFF OF THE BROOM

omg he caught him

KISS

regulus talking to minnie jump scare

regulus just casually researching tom riddle

dorlene dorlene dorlene dorlene dorlene dorlene dorlene dorlene

rghhhhh

[sieglinde-freud]

1,3,5,6 and 15! I love women <3

hi faye!! 🩷 i already know this gonna be long hooboy

1. One of your favorite female characters?

frederica aesfrost triangle strategy. that is my GIRL. i dont know how many of you guys have played triangle strategy but me personally it changed my life. not gonna say too much because i dont wanna spoil it, but shes such a great female lead. shes basically fighting for the liberation of her people, the roselle, who the society of the game has basically condemned for no reason so if you go through her arc, you see how she deals with the pressure of having to free them, how hard it hurts to witness them in the state that theyre in, and the sacrifices she has to make to get what she wants and GOD. its so good. shes so good. also she cant fucking cook. me too girl.

3. What’s a female character you look up to?

ema skye ace attorney, specifically in aa4-6. ive never seen a character that made me go ‘GOD shes just like me fr’ like her (and apollo justice. but this isnt about him). i feel like it’s rare to see main characters like her really love something, and then FAIL pathetically at it. over and over. not that i enjoy seeing her not getting her forensic license, but it just feels so real. sometimes you love something and you’re so passionate about it but you just dont get it. and how does she react? is she still the bubbly ema you see in rfta with a “we’ll get em next time!” attitude? no!! no she’s not, she’s bitter, grumpy, snarky, dealing with the most annoying prosecutor of all time, and she’s so fucking real. be frustrated! be angry! life hands you shit cards you can be mad about how you have to play it! it’s nice seeing characters who pick themselves back up so easily, but most people arent like that and im certainly not, and seeing a character who’s just so honest about that is really refreshing. of course, she finally gets her dream in aa6, but that doesnt come without years and years of trying. in a universe where people are becoming lawyers at 18, it’s nice to see someone realistic. (im also trying to step foot into the forensic field eventually sooo… the fact that shes on the same path as me just kinda makes it hit harder, you know?)

5. A female villain you love?

pissing off both sides of the argument by calling her a villain and saying i love her but edelgard von hresvelg. before anyone says anything my favorite lord is yuri leclerc and the rest of them are equal in my heart <3 but edelgard clearly takes on more of a villain role in every route except her own, and even then she’s not entirely morally correct (duh). but i dont know. i wont say too much on your ask faye cuz i know you havent finished the other routes yet, but even when i played azure moon i couldnt bring myself to dislike her. her past with dimitri, the way she kept the dagger, and everything she reveals to you on her own path and how her past shaped her into who she is and what she wants and how she will stop at nothing to get it. i dont agree with the ends justifying the means, but i love characters who believe in that because it’s just so interesting. you want this thing so bad, nothing will stop you? your friends, your family, knowing you’re doing wrong because you think it’ll turn out right? what if it goes wrong. what if it blows up in your face? what if history remembers you as the villain forever? you’re already too deep in it i guess, so just keep going. shes so… ggrarghj. edelgard 🥹

6. A female character who got done dirty by the narrative?

athena cykes ace attorney. you’re telling me the entirety of aa5 is revolves around HER story, HER past, HER relationships, and it’s called “Phoenix Wright: Dual Destinies”? the dual, by the way, refers to apollo. and you dont even play as athena during the climax of the game, you play as phoenix and shes just WATCHING. will they redeem her in aa6? you mean “Phoenix Wright: Spirit of Justice?” you mean the game where she gets ONE case on her own and it’s a FILLER CASE? admittedly a pretty good filler case but still. god. what the hell. i get phoenix sells but if you’re make new lawyers to take on his legacy, maybe? let them do that???

15. Female character you would defend with your life?

as usual there are so many to pick from. but i think this time i’m gonna pick nyx fire emblem. now, dont get me wrong. i will not defend her design. fates’ female dark mage design is pretty bad, especially since its used on ophelia and nyx. as much as i sincerely dont think nyx looks like a child as opposed to just a pretty short young woman, it’s…. blerghh. but aside from that? i cant STAND when people say shes just generic loli bait that acts like a child. because where? WHERE? point to where in her supports she acts like a child seriously. i know in her supports with charlotte she attempts to try it, but the point is that its unnatural and uncomfortable for her to do so. she is just. not like that. she doesnt try to play around like nowi or myrrh. shes not a child in dragon years or anything. shes just an older woman stuck in the body of a younger one, and if you would just READ one support, literally any of them, you would know that. but fates haters dont read, do they? clearly not. and its just a huge disservice to the rest of her character, which i think is incredibly beautifully written. shes such a standout in fates and i cant stand people ignoring that because “waaah nowi clone!” fuck you.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part V

Notes: This is part 5 of a request and the angst is still here yayyy but Deglan finally appears with his own POV :P

Fandom: The Witcher

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings, My sad attempts at making the language sound old

Summary: Y/N made a promise. A promise he’s willing to keep, even though he is not yet over Deglan. But fate has to be a bitch and for the second time, he does not appear in Kaer Morhen in the winter. Deglan is furious...

Word Count: 5,483

Taglist: @thatsequoia

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Additional note: Birke is on March 20

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed and is addressed in this story. If this makes you uncomfortable or triggers you please do not continue to read!

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part VI, Part VII

Masterlist

"He will probably arrive in a few days, I’m quite early after all. So, don’t worry, Deglan."

"I don’t know, maybe he is stuck in the snow. He will come, he promised. Let’s wait a bit longer."

"I-I don’t think he was acting. He seriously promised me, he is not the lying kind."

"... I apologize, I... I really don’t know..."

-

Fenri pulled Barmin aside in the passage before the Evening hall. The torches only lit the place poorly and he pulled the red-head under the shine of the flame. He worldlessly showed him a letter. Barmin read it and his face turned into a frown.

"So... he lied to us?" 

Fenri nodded, his teeth grinding in anger. He was certain that Y/N had lied to him. Straight to his face. 

The blond man had been a bit suspicious after they had parted in Kaedwen and he never received a letter until the next winter but life as a witcher was busy so he made excuses for the h/c haired man. And they had never really exchanged letters before so it didn’t seem that strange. 

But he had been wrong. He believed his rival with blind trust. 

He knew Y/N could be a coward. Just not such a big one. 

Barmin sighed next to him. 

"He is a bloody fool", barked Fenri and crumpled up the apology letter.

The other witcher looked at him and hummed, his eyes showed disappointment as well but he tried to hide it.

"He must be scared. It seems reasonable that he didn’t return this year as well. Did you not tell him that we would never view him differently because of his feelings?"

Fenri shook his head with a frown. 

"What does it matter? He wouldn’t have come regardless." 

Barmin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew that the blond witcher wasn't yet done with his tirade, so he got comfortable.

"I understand him. I really do! After that fucking... After we had to watch that pair of lovers get strung up by the people who ate with them every day...  Their own damn family! - I understand why he is scared. But he promised. And after all those years of training together, I thought I knew one thing about Y/N for sure; that he’s not a liar. That he values promises."

Fenri paused and tried to relax the fists that he unconsciously formed during his words. He could still see the two men from all those years ago hanging before his eyes. The grotesque satisfaction in the eyes of their family members. The absolute horror on Y/N's face... 

He had witnessed that moment in his youth but that moment still followed him into his dreams even now. How much worse it had to be for his rival... 

"You know, I would have helped him with Deglan. I had this intricate plan for how I would aid him, how I would make sure he would finally see what-”, he sighed, “You remember Hannes, yes?"

Barmin nodded, his friend had recounted to him how he met a bard in Vergen who also knew Y/N. 

That whole encounter was embarrassing for Fenri because he had shown the bard his ugly side. 

He was drunk in a tavern when the other man started a conversation and told him about another witcher he met in Aedirn, Y/N. They quickly realized that they knew the same person and after a lot of ale, Fenri spilt the thoughts that had been plaguing him since his rival stayed away from Kaer Morhen during their first winter. 

Hannes listened patiently and then lectured him about the common folk and their attitude towards anything unusual. He told him many stories about people like him - he actually expressed his interest in men openly to Fenri’s utter surprise - and the blonde learned that Y/N's "avoid or die" stance was sadly a fairly good instinct. 

So he did understand his friend and sympathised with him. But the fact that Y/N broke his promise hurt him anyway. He wanted to spar with the fool, he wanted to boast about his hunts, spend time with him and the others like the good old days and also reminisce about Cole. He missed the fucker, okay. He was family.

But now he had to wonder if the h/c haired witcher would appear in Kaer Morhen ever again. It had to be his fault. After all, Y/N never said he forgave him and accepted his apology.

"Hannes believes that Y/N has already given up hope. That he resigned himself to be alone forever. And I don’t blame him for that. As witchers, we don’tt have it easy with love and most of us don’t even consider it, but we have places we can go to for relief. He doesn’t. Or at least not that I know of... But that isn’t what I am trying to say", he groaned in frustration and turned his head left and right to check the passage. 

After listening intently for a second he said: 

"If only he knew what Deglan feels for him. It’s so fucking obvious! I am telling you, those bastards are mutually in love. I bet all my belongings! If Y/N would just get his head out of his arse and come here..." 

Barmin watched the light of the torches dance on the stone wall with a pensive expression. He was uncertain about the letter Fenri showed him. He couldn’t imagine that Y/N outright lied to Fenri’s face. That just wasn’t their friend. He watched the blond witcher rant and crossed his arms before his chest.

"Quite funny that you are so noisy about their relationship. Considering the words you said to us all those years ago."

Fenri scratched his neck awkwardly. 

"I asked for forgiveness, you know that", he mumbled and his friend placatingly patted his shoulder. 

"I know. I merely want you to remember not to meddle in other people's affairs."

His eyes wandered to the dark end of the passage, where the corridor split into two parts.

Fenri only grinned apologetically.

The next day during a sparring match, he received a bloody nose. Groaning he tilted his head back while sitting in the dirt. He heard Barmin snort behind him.

"Mind your own business, boy", Deglan spat before walking out of the courtyard.

The blond witcher held his bloody nose and took the hand of his friend who helped him up. Barmin patted his shoulder.

"I told you", he said with a grin.

Fenri rolled his eyes.

"He had already heard everything by then."

The red-head only laughed and he sighed. Hopefully Deglan would do something now. He had big hopes that his mentor would bring their unruly friend back. If the older witcher couldn’t do it... 

There would be no hope at all.

-

"You need to calm down."

"Oh, shut your old mouth, Rennes! I am calm!" Deglan growled as he paced in the wolf school leader's room. 

He wanted to leave Kaer Morhen right now and go beat someone up. Someone with h/c hair and a lot of scars in his face. 

He would punch that someone real good and then he would drag him back to the school's keep. Where he would beat him some more, to get his point across. 

And after that, he would confess his love, kiss him breathless and then fuck the shit out of him. Preferably in that order. 

The fact that he couldn't do any of that, therefore, made him considerably angry. 

"Well, then you can fuck off and be calm in your own goddamn room, my attention is needed by those documents." 

Rennes massaged the bridge of his nose while he sat at his desk which was covered with papers and books of all sizes. Deglan was about to open his mouth and argue but Rennes interrupted him: 

"And I told you, you are not to leave these castle walls before spring arrives. You got punched too much in the head if you think I will let you go out there for merely one witcher." 

"He is not just any witcher-" Deglan started, but he got interrupted once more:

"He is Y/N, the best of the bunch you trained, I know. All the more reason to not let you storm off like a bloody fool. What do you even try to achieve? He probably arrived too late at the mountain range and got snowed in. Fenri himself said he was on his way here." 

Deglan had to physically restrict himself to not break Rennes' nose too. That was the thing, Y/N never planned to come home. 

And now that he knew why he could not sit still anymore. His patience had been running thin for years and when Fenri told him that the h/c haired witcher was finally returning to Kaer Morhen this winter, his blood began to boil in excitement. 

Excitement, because he had been waiting for two years now to finally clear up the misunderstanding that had driven them apart. 

Whenever he thought about that moment he needed to restrain himself from wanting to murder Olav - the witcher who was the cause of the misunderstanding. 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. 

"When winter is over, I want to go out on the Path."

Rennes looked up from the letter he was reading and frowned.

"To go look for him? Deglan, what the fuck is the matter with you and that boy?"

"He’s not a boy anymore."

The older witcher dismissively waved his hand. 

"You can’t leave right away, you know the rules. You have not yet done all the training months from last year." 

Deglan gnashed his teeth in annoyance. Despite his anger, he gave in.

"Okay, but I will leave after Birke."

It was okay. He had been patient for such a long time. He could be patient for a bit longer. Just a bit. 

After Rennes finally gave his approval, not without scrutinizing him first, he left his room. 

It was already late afternoon but he was not in the mood to eat anything. So he went to his own quarters and lay on his bed, staring at the stone ceiling with crossed arms behind his head. 

Birke was still a few months away and the uncertainty about Y/N's fate was heavily weighing on his mind. 

Fenri believed that Y/N was staying away willingly and Deglan knew that it was very likely - he understood the younger man's way of thinking well - but he could not stop himself from worrying about his safety anyway. 

Y/N's character had never allowed him to back away from any fight much less one with a monster, at least not that he was aware of. Deglan wondered if he ever took his words from before to heart. The lack of knowledge tortured him. 

He wanted to see the h/c haired man. He wanted to grab him and shake him violently by the shoulders, to tell him that he was a bloody bastard. How dare he make him wait so long and break his promise?!

Deglan knew about the younger man's feelings for him for a long time. 

At first, he thought those feelings were simply admiration - every witcher had a mentor they looked up to - but when Y/N’s glances lingered longer in the following years, when his body turned rigid as soon as Deglan got a bit too close and his ears turned a deep shade of red, he understood. 

He remembered how Cole had told him about Fenri's comments all these years ago and how he had noticed the stares Y/n had given another witcher.

And then it hit him.

Never in a million lifetimes had he thought that someone would look at him like that again. As if their breath got taken away whenever Deglan looked at them. As if he was the most important person in their life.

He was not one to brag, but when he had been younger he turned a lot of heads. Not that many approached him, his witcher eyes and prominent scars deterred even the bravest among them. But he had been quite popular. Back then.

That changed though. His best years were most likely behind him, his beard and hair already had streaks of grey, and he never thought he would be someone's object of affection again. Especially not his student’s.

It came as a surprise. 

And Deglan had told himself at first to ignore it. Y/N would change his mind soon enough. He did not want to imagine anything, he was much older than the other and Y/N was still fairly young when his feelings bloomed and with a few more years he would forget. 

But he never did. 

The h/c haired youth turned into a formidable man with muscles at the right places, scars littering his lean body and the yellow eyes of a witcher full of courage and a sense of duty. 

And the look in his eyes never changed when he watched Deglan. The older witcher, therefore, could not stop his heart from wavering when the man reached the end of his training. 

After all, he had felt a certain connection to the other since he was just a brat.

The fact that Y/N appeared to also like the same sex had been reason enough for him back then to take him under his wings. Deglan knew well enough what could happen when that kind of preference got known and he saw his younger self in him, so he decided to watch over the boy in secret. 

He made sure that any kind of foul talk would be met with punishments, he tried to shelter him from any abuse and he thought he did it fairly well. 

But he noticed that Fenri's and Y/N's rivalry took a turn for the worse and then the two boys were sent on a hunt to the closest village by Rennes.  

The rascals' expressions when they returned had been strange. Both of them had departed with an exciting air around them but that was nowhere to be found when Deglan welcomed them back. Y/N's eyes appeared empty, his expression haunted. Something had definitely happened. Something bad. 

So, when Fenri was surprisingly meek the following days, he had asked the witcher who took them down the mountain what had occurred during their days away. 

He told him that they witnessed the hanging of some sinners during the last day.

Deglan counted two and two together and it broke his heart. 

He began to notice how Y/N became careful with touch, that he never let his hands linger on the shoulder of his friends. The youth looked lost and Deglan scolded himself that he was unable to protect Y/N from witnessing that awful moment. 

Once, he had been that boy - to be fair, he had been much older - but he had a close confidant who knew about his preferences, he had had support. 

Deglan remembered his late friend and he felt a sting in his heart.

Although Y/n appeared to have found good friends in Cole, Barmin and the others, he was most likely scared. Scared that if he showed his true feelings his fate would be the same.

And so Deglan had decided to become a confidant for the boy. He would try to be a better mentor. Someone Y/N could trust.

This decision had led to the improvement of their relationship and suddenly Y/N's eyes were stuck on him like a tick.

The boy grew into a handsome young man and his small hands turned as big as Deglan’s. Suddenly they were almost the same height and the skin around his chin scars grew hair. 

It did not help Deglan that the younger witcher had many attributes that he found attractive.

So, he was suddenly more conscious of the yellow eyes following him and the other’s movements when they tackled each other in their never ending training fights. Y/N's gaze sometimes burned like molten iron and during late nights when he was dazed from too much alcohol, Deglan's hands itched to just slam the younger man against a wall and kiss him. 

But he tried to ignore these thoughts. 

He really tried, he did not want to let his loneliness cloud his judgement, he did not want to take advantage of Y/N's feelings and so he held himself back. He was an old man after all, compared to the h/c haired witcher. He really tried to stop the growing emotions in his chest.

Until Rennes told him that his group of disciples would finally go out on the Path. 

Spring was only weeks away and Deglan was suddenly confronted with the fact that Y/N would soon only rarely appear in his life. If he did not die out on the Path. Which he did not really believe would happen, the young h/c haired witcher was the best among the ones he trained but still- 

He could not stop himself from worrying. Nightmares about finding Y/N's dead body out in the mountains began to torment his sleep. And his resolve wavered.

The prospect of seeing the man only once or twice a year for a few weeks upset him. He knew that witchers usually grew apart like this, especially if they were “only” mentor and apprentice. He did not want that. He did not want to see Y/N change and become a stranger in his eyes. 

Deep down he knew that he wanted to witness every little change, every new scar, every new freckle and wrinkle. 

He wanted to spend every minute, every second of the respite a witcher had in winter with the other man.

And then he remembered his past. His own sad attempts at finding love. He had pined for someone before, he yearned with the patience of thousand men and waited until that person finally realized his feelings. 

It took a long time but they were reciprocated. They had spent two years together and he would sneak out of Kaer Morhen every week to see the man at the foot of the mountain. 

He had been younger back then and believed he had all the time in the world to spend it with the one he liked. But then his lover died in an accident. And Deglan finally realized that life was fragile and as a witcher his was maybe better spent killing monsters and making coins.  

At least that was what he thought until that dumb fool with h/c hair and heart-eyes sprouted from a lad into a charming man and pinned him to the ground in one of their last fights before the end of his student’s training.

Y/N laughed heartily, he was out of breath and Deglan could feel it from the slightly vibrating blade that touched his throat. Under the sun the h/c haired man looked mesmerizing and Y/N being on top of him ignited something in his heart.

He studied his face, the pale scars on his cheeks, his sharp jaw which showed even more signs of a growing beard, the bridge of his nose that was like no other, his adam’s apple where a drop of sweat was running down and after he looked up after the few seconds that had passed, Y/N’s pupils had become fully blown and the air between them shifted.

He gulped and before his student could say anything, he pushed Y/N’s blade away and slowly sat upright, giving the other the chance to pull away from him. The younger witcher downcast his eyes when he moved away and Deglan could basically feel his insecurity.

“It’s my loss” he sighed and took Y/N’s hand to stand up. He held onto him for a bit longer and when he finally let go he had made a decision.

He would not wait anymore. 

He was done waiting and hoping something would change. He waited enough for the universe to change its mind, to tell him no, they were not meant to be, but now it was his turn and he would make sure that Y/N would become his better half. 

Yet, he didn’t immediately walz up to the other’s room and kiss him. No, he painfully decided to wait for the other to come find him. If he wanted to change his mind. It was one last chance for the other. But deep down Deglan knew, Y/N wouldn’t change his mind. He would come and confess. He was absolutely certain.

He knew that it would happen soon. He had noticed the looks of the younger witcher, he knew that Y/N wanted to tell him something as well. He could guess what it was. And that knowledge only stoked the burning desire in his chest further.

But then destiny had to be a massive twat and told him 'fuck you' straight to his face by making him go on a hunt a month before Y/N and his friends would leave on the Path. 

When Rennes had called him to his room that night he should have felt that something would happen. But he did not, he was too occupied with the idea of Y/N finally addressing the tension between them and maybe a little bit nervous about it too, not that he would tell anyone that. 

"I need you to go on a hunt." 

Rennes had not noticed his expression that night because it was too dark in the room but his face said something along the lines of 'are you fucking with me right now?' 

He did not want to go anywhere. He had been staying in Kaer Morhen for months more than the other witchers because it was his turn to train the younger generations - especially after he brought home that Vesemir boy - and now after he finally got his shit together and knew what he wanted, he had to leave for a hunt?! Why couldn’t any of the others go?! Why now?!

But Rennes did not allow any complaining and so he sent him on a particular job with two other witchers Finn and Olav - two younger ones who had gotten in trouble before because they were raging drunkards and he was supposed to supervise them to prove that they could get their shit together. 

Deglan was pissed. 

But it was alright. He could be patient for a few more days. That would also allow him to choose his words carefully and to restrain himself from just pouncing on Y/N when he saw the man. 

However, in the end, it wasn't alright. 

The nobles who ordered the hunt were a couple he knew. A sickly old man and a young lady who watched him with hot eyes. They had met once before when he was ordered to their castle to find the reason why their servants would disappear and show up dead. 

He was younger back then and the lady's eyes used to follow his every move even back then. 

He knew she was attracted to him since she begged him to protect her in her bed chambers. He had been a bigger fool in the past and did what she demanded because she was nobility and he was born piss-poor and the respect for the aristocracy wasn't yet beaten out of him by years of slaying monsters for sleazy whoresons. 

So he spent the night in her room and she basically dragged him to lay with her. He complied and sat on the bed while she tried to charm him but that was as far as he went. He used Axii on her and she spent the night in a confused daze while he worried about other things. 

That was all that really happened with that noblewoman but when Olav and Finn noticed the looks she gave him they tried to squeeze out any kind of gossip from him and when he told them the gist of what had occured in the past, their dirty minds formed their own opinions.

And it came around to bite him in the ass when they had returned to Kaer Morhen and Olav loudly declared that he was probably fucking that noblewoman.

That night the Evening hall was full of witchers and so he did not spot Y/N at first. 

He was casually playing with the fabric in the bag around his hip: On his way back they had encountered a merchant and instead of buying an intact shirt, he haggled with the man for some cloth as a present for Y/N, cerulean blue or whatever was the shade called by the fella. He felt like it would be meaningful to gift the other man something. 

That thought calmed his annoyance a bit but then Olav had to open his fucking mouth and mess up everything.

The comment made his heart skip a beat and he hoped that the object of his affection wasn’t there to hear it. But fate was a bitch and he picked up Barmin's worried voice in the bustling hall with his mutated hearing. 

He searched for him with his eyes and spotted Y/N right when he was leaving his table. 

His yellow eyes were glazed over and Deglan had a bad premonition. He called out to the h/c haired witcher but Y/N ignored him and left the hall in a hurry.

Deglan could count two and two together, especially when he saw Barmin stare at him from across the hall with scrutinizing eyes. 

He cursed loudly in his head and gave Olav a death stare before leaving the hall to look for the man who stole his heart, all while ignoring Rennes’ stupid commentary about his lack of interest in women. 

He needed to make things right, to tell Y/N it was a misunderstanding but the younger man was good at hiding and he did not find him in the end. 

The next day he tried to search for the other as well and the next, but that fucker seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to him because the witcher disappeared whenever he found him or flocked with other people to hide. 

Deglan did not want to approach him when he was with others because rumours spread faster in Kaer Morhen than in a group of washerwomen. And he had a feeling that if he wanted to separate Y/N from a group, the other would protest loudly. 

So he waited. Waited patiently for Y/N to calm down and act like a rational man for a goddamn second. 

And then he thought he finally had a chance to talk to the object of his desire.

One evening, he came across the h/c man in the courtyard. Deglan realized immediately that Y/N was drunk, but he expected him to be at least aware of his surroundings and actions, as witchers rarely experienced a truly drunk state but that apparently was not the case this time. 

The younger witcher leaned on him for support and buried his head against his throat. Deglan could feel his breath on his skin and the slightly agitated rhythm sent a jolt right through his body. 

He wanted to talk to him, he saw the opportunity to fix their misunderstanding, the change of their lives was in reach but-

Y/N had to throw up and he had to clean the witcher and carry him to his chambers. And once again fate told him to go fuck himself.

That night he left Y/N’s room and leaned on his door. He growled in frustration. 

“Tomorrow will bring another chance,” he told himself.

But another chance never came and then it was already time for the younger man and his friends to leave the keep for the Path. 

Deglan was furious and hurt and frantic and losing his mind from all that fucking waiting. 

But he would be patient. He was set on loving that man, on having a future with him. He would never let him go. Therefore he would be diligent some more and torture himself for three seasons. And then he would confess. Fuck Y/N, it was his turn. He would make things right.

The thoughts of Y/N by his side would be calming enough for him to endure spring, summer and autumn. Winter would bring relief with its cold days and Deglan could not wait for the snow to soothe his burning desire. 

That Friday morning, the sun illuminated Y/N's hair like a halo and Deglan clenched his fists to stop himself from just walking up to the fool and dragging him behind the stables. 

He did not want him to leave. His patience was especially wearing thin today and so he could not stop himself from walking up to the witcher right when Y/N wanted to mount his horse. The thought of the other just leaving, without a word to him, made him growl inwardly. 

He patted Lisica's flank, the chestnut-coloured mare he personally picked for Y/N all those years ago. 

The nostalgia made his eyes a little wet and he squinted them before he looked at the h/c haired man before him. 

"Are you leaving without saying goodbye to your mentor?", he said and tried to add a teasing tone when he saw the tension in Y/N's shoulders. The younger man avoided his eyes and stared at the ground, allowing Deglan to see his ears redden. 

Shit, he loved that bastard. He loved him so much that his knees weakened when he saw the shy reaction of the other man. That fool was in love with him, did he not see that he returned his feelings?! 

He really wanted to shake him by the shoulders. 

If Y/N could not see it, he would just straight up tell him. Next year. 

And he told him that with a determined tone. He would make sure that the h/c haired man got it. 

He could barely wait. He really wanted to cup Y/N's face in his hands and softly trace his scars before kissing all of them but that thought got interrupted by Rennes and he sighed. 

Three more seasons. He could endure that. He would. For the things that would come after. 

He petted Lisica again as a few very intimate scenes flashed before his mind. Oh yes, he would endure that torture. And then he would pay it back. Ten folds. A grin flashed on his lips and he nodded to himself, already imagining the ways he would get back at Y/N. 

He listened to the end of Rennes' speech and glanced at the younger witcher. 

If Y/N would not come back next winter... He dismissed the thought, that would not happen. That could not happen. Some of his nightmares flashed before his eyes and he bit his lip. 

No, he would be fine. 

Deglan took a step back as the other finally sat on his horse, but when Y/N appeared to just lead Lisica away, he ended up grabbing him by the wrist, stopping him. 

He needed a second to formulate his thoughts after he saw the alarmed expression of the other and an idea crossed his mind. 

He took out the expensive cerulean cloth from his bag, he had been carrying it around in the last few days like a treasure. He carefully tied it around the man’s wrist and told him to return safely because they had to talk.

You need to take care of yourself. If you die... 

“This is a promise that you return unharmed”, he softly said and his tone quivered.

His heart hurt and he allowed himself to trace Y/N's artery with his thumb, feeling his pulse. He was alive and well and he would be when he returned. 

Then he let go and patted Lisica's neck. She would take care of the dumbass, he knew it. 

She knew it as well as she whinnied and he sighed. 

His group of apprentices started moving and he waved at his former apprentices. He watched as they traversed the bridge and with every step of Lisica, Y/N moved away from his reach. 

Now he would have to wait. He bit his lip as frustration welled up in him. 

Why did he always have to wait?

Someone grabbed him by his shirt sleeve. It was Vesemir, the young boy he more or less brought with him after another hunt a few months ago. 

"How many of them will return?"

His eyes were dark as he watched Y/N's retreating back.

"All of them."

Then he left. Before he regretted his decision to allow the man he loved to leave.

He did end up regretting it. So much. 

Two whole fucking years.

He was about to go crazy. 

Birke, he thought. Six more weeks. Until then he would endure and after that... Y/N would have to prepare himself.

[everythingsinred]

what follows is a long, rambly, and possibly sappy thank you note to the best fandom ive ever involved myself in. if you have ever sent me an ask, commented on my fics, or replied to a post i made (or even liked it tbh)--then this post is for you. (and this is most certainly not a good-bye or even close; i just occasionally get into sappy moods)

i want to start working on a career that i like, and my mom’s recommendation was to start a writing blog (she insisted i dont call it that though--to call it a “website” so it sounds more professional when i apply for writing gigs). its not the first time shes given me that advice but i have for some reason always resisted that idea before. “nobody would read it” was always the bottom line. that whole “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has always been my outlook on anything i produce. its why i feel so poorly whenever i post a new chapter of a fic or any art ever. its why im taking so long on the next batch of ga essays. its why ive never formally submitted any writing ever for publishing. why would anyone read anything i have to write, especially with no dead fandom to prompt them? who would choose me out of all the aspiring writers out there?

for ga it was a bit easier after a bit of breaking through the initial anxiety of sharing bits of myself. its a small fandom. not much content going around. theyd take anything right? even if it was from me! 

but something really weird happened these past few years in the ga fandom. i started writing essays and became more vocal, posting my thoughts, writing a long, dark, fucked up fanfic. i got feedback from people who wanted more from me. theyd ask me my thoughts on things, when id never considered myself an authority on anything or even very interesting to talk to (a lifetime of being the substitute friend will do that to you). ppl sent me asks about questions. they replied to my posts to further discuss things. me! what on earth?

then it got weirder. i posted my weird messed up little fic and now every once in a while ill get a comment from a person that says that my fic is their favorite, not just in the fandom, but ever. EVER. what? a couple of people have told me that they’d read anything i wrote, even if it had nothing to do with gakuen alice.

that they’d read something just because it was me.

this isnt a rant or a vent. something has changed in my self esteem in the past few years because today, when my mom told me i should start a “writing website” and post weekly writing, it actually sounded like a decent idea. no part of her advice was different than it had ever been, but i was. i could for the first time imagine starting a blog (website) and picture someone actually liking what they found there. and that’s bc of the ga fandom and bc of the writing ive done it for it and SPECIFICALLY the writing ive actually had the guts to share. 

none of it has been perfect. im lazy when it comes to self-editing and when i finish writing a chapter im eager to just throw it out there instead of rereading it once, let alone twice. a lot of it has been imperfect, but you guys still read it. you enjoyed it, even. “it has to be perfect to make up for the fact that it’s me” has never been a problem for you. for whatever reason, quite a few of you like me, like my writing, like my ideas and thoughts. a couple of years ago i wouldnt have been able to fathom that, not even in my wildest dreams. 

im proud of myself for taking those first steps a couple years back, for posting those first couple posts and letting myself get involved in the fandom for a manga ive loved for half my life. im proud because if i hadnt done that, then maybe my self esteem wouldnt have developed like this. maybe i wouldnt have been able to picture a career in publishing as clearly as i can now. i obviously still have issues as far as my self esteem is concerned. i second-guess myself. i talk down to myself. i put off rereading bc i dont want to hate what i create. but you guys have helped me like my writing and helped me see that other people can like it too.

i am beyond grateful for that. i dont get a lot of traction or feedback like i would if i were in a larger fandom, but i dont mind. the feedback that i do get is of such good quality and has meant so much to me that it has potentially changed my life. i just needed you all to know that. that the people who have sent me asks, both on and off anon, requesting my thoughts on any topic; the people who leave comments on ffn and ao3, giving support ranging from long paragraphs to a brief sentence; the people who dm me or message me to share their thoughts on my work; the people who commented on my natsumikan essays telling me that ive helped them see something from a different perspective--you all have helped me see that there’s value in the things i create. 

i just want to say thank you. it has meant so much to me so far to be able to feel so confident in my writing. i really didnt even notice the change until today. how bizarre is it that something so important can change without you even noticing? i look forward to sharing more with you, from more fics to the mikan essay (which still has to be perfect, just maybe not as perfect as it wouldve had to be a few years ago lol). 

don’t be nervous that this a good-bye. it is not. it’s strange because whenever i’ve said anything like this (sent a message of adoration to a person i love, for example), people think it’s a bad sign. that i’m saying good-bye, or that it’s somehow a sign of something unsaid. i understand. this kind of nonsense sappiness (like all that stuff i wrote up there ^) is usually saved for the ffn bio when someone is leaving the site, for the good-bye post when someone decides to leave a fandom. “you’ve all meant so much to me and i’m leaving now.” that’s because usually people save all the important things for the end. you only say how you’ve felt when you say farewell. i don’t think life should be that way. i’m not saying good-bye, i’m saying i love you. i think people should say that more. i want people to feel good about themselves for what they’ve done, however small, to make my life--and undoubtedly the lives of others--a little brighter. and you have. you should know and i don’t intend to keep it to myself until i say good-bye (whenever or even if that happens). 

tldr; i love you gakuen alice fandom <3 youre not dead because dead things cant give life the way you have.

[zaptap]

btw i still think theyre going to do unova remakes this year. for a second there i wavered a bit since i realized they could do something with johto first (hgss is older than gen v after all) but i think after indigo disk bringing unova back into the spotlight, it makes more sense to keep that going right into the next game (and there's no pattern yet for second-round remakes, since we've only gotten lgpe. could be total coincidence they did kanto again before sinnoh)

as for whether the remake will even be any good? idk lol. maybe they'll get ilca to do the bare minimum again. or maybe they'll decide not to after how much of a mess bdsp was (i feel like theyd rather not have to come up with special rules for pokemon home transfers again)

and to me legends arceus was one half of the sinnoh remake (the part where they add a lot of new stuff and bring newer pokemon to the region, which bdsp lacked) so they could do another legends game. they could continue the trend of focusing on a mythical and maybe do genesect or victini, or maybe base it on that merged dragon legendary we never really saw? idk

really hope though that they just... do a normal remake again. recreate the world and story of the original game, yes, but add to it. let us have pokemon that didn't exist when the originals came out, add new pokemon forms, etc. i really miss the old remakes being in the same style as the brand new games of the generation and able to communicate with each other, instead of this thing theyve been doing since lgpe where everything is in a weird bubble by itself

at the same time though i liked legends arceus and it'd be nice to see something like that again. my theory has been that it came about because game freak maybe got a little too ambitious working on a more traditional sinnoh remake (trying to work something like the wild area into sinnoh, maybe settling on making five of the areas more open, and ultimately deciding it was too different--or had some ideas to make it even more different--and spinning it off into something new while hiring ilca to cover the expectation for a "normal" remake since they'd be abandoning that)

and now, after having already done the split-model remake with bdsp and legends arceus, would they do the same thing again? i think with scarlet and violet's open world, having it be similarish to those games probably won't happen (also they absolutely wouldn't have terastalization and tera raids--if blueberry academy is in unova and has a special tera orb to enable all of that, that means it isn't in the rest of the region). but they could still have it be more linear while being stylistically similar to sv, as opposed to what bdsp did

ANYWAY how about this actually: have the type of remake we got with frlg/hgss/oras (where there's plenty of new stuff and you can get pokemon that didn't exist in the originals) and then throw in some kind of Dream World inspired side story area with legends arceus mechanics. that would be really cool

.......also there's the whole question of like. what the fuck are they gonna do about bw2. those games went above and beyond the usual third version deal. different story, different starting area and map progression, different protagonists. they can't simply tack on some alternate clothing options and throw in the kyurem/kami/etc forms and call it good. that would be unacceptable

would they put both games in one? would they sell the second as dlc? would the paired games, instead of black remake and white remake, be bw remake and bw2 remake? (would that even work?) or would they really just ignore bw2 as much as possible? honestly with the way game freak's been these days i feel like that might be most likely unfortunately

for the past few years ive been wanting to replay gen v, but with these remakes coming... well, in the past i've replayed rs before oras and played yellow before lgpe, and that was fine, but when i replayed platinum before bdsp came out it just felt like i was playing the same game again except worse. like i think i'd rather have played bdsp and then platinum. so i'll wait until after the remakes before doing that i think (or at least until we have an idea of what we're getting) (not that i think i'll have time to get around to playing those before then anyway)

[journalofabrokenheartedvirgin]

Page 94

When did the breakup happen? 

A little over a week ago - a week and two days. They broke up with me last Saturday and its now Monday

2. How long was the relationship? 

We were officially together for a month but we had been seeing each other for two months. We became official exactly one month after we met 

3. Were you blindsided or expecting?

A little of both honestly. I felt like everything was going great and although we both knew it was going to come to an end eventually, I thought we were on the same wavelength about our relationship. They started acting weird about a week and a half before the breakup, but I tried to ignore it, but by the time they told me they needed a break from weeknight stays, I knew that was the beginning of the end. I felt so much anxiety, dread, and sadness that week, just knowing in my gut that it was done. It was basically solidified by the time they hadn’t texted me in almost two days. And then the dreaded, “lets get coffee” text came in. Yup, that was it. I say I was both because it just seemed like we were okay, and then suddenly it was not and I didnt know why at first 

4. Who ended it?

Steven ended the relationship. They said that they needed to focus on their last few months here and doesn’t have the space for something so serious or that will get them attached. I told them I had already gotten there, that I was attached already and was going to miss the,. They just said id be okay. They did make sure tell me it wasn’t anything with me, but with them. That anyone would be lucky to be with me since “all ive been is wonderful”

I keep having day dreams of them texting me, asking to see me, wanting to see me, wanting to hang out with me. I wish everyday that I will see their name pop up on my phone and everyday it gets worse and worse that they dont. Lila says that the hope of that will dissipate in time, but as of right now, I just feel more and more sad as they days go on. I want to reach out but im not going to. They were the ones who needed space and I am not going to be the annoying ass ex who texts them first. When they want to speak to me, they will reach out. And honestly, as hard as it is to think about it, that may be never. They said we could check in on each other every so often, but how truthful were they about that? They may have just been saying that and in actuality, they are never going to. I want them to so badly. I miss them so fucking much. Its so weird because im not crying as much as I thought I would, especially considering how much I cried about Liam and Ryan, but its not like im any less sad about Steven breaking up with me, I actually think im more sad about them then I was about Ryan, but im just not crying. It feels weird, I want to cry, but its not happening.  Instead, I just feel the sadness on its own, its just a pit in my stomach. I want them back so badly. I think about them every single day, not one day has gone by since the breakup that I dont think about them at least once. I do hope they think about me every so often, even if its just been a single thought in the entire time since they broke it off. I wish I had asked them how they were feeling about it all, if they were sad or if they just wanted it to be over. Lila said that they definitely think about me, they havent just forgotten the last two months, and that they cared about me, but its just hard to really believe that when I dont even know how sad they felt about everything. I did make sure to ask them that they actually did like me, since I never got that closure with Liam, and they said they did, so that makes me feel a little bit better, but not by much since I dont know the extent to how they felt or how much they liked me. I just know I liked them more, which really hurts, but I was expecting nothing less, which I couldn’t considering it was going to be short term from the beginning. I just wish they would reach out so I dont have to continuously think about them not reaching out. I want them to be sad and miss me, even if that sounds bad. I dont want to be the only one negatively affected by this break up.  I hope they feel even a little sad about not being with me anymore. 

[khodorkovskaya]

18.12.22

im very disturbed by what's happening around me. i feel like im in a dark room and i can only use the walls and the objects around me to guide me. i can only see vague silhouettes of things and i know that i have to move forward. but i feel very lost and confused.

i saw my bestie from london yesterday. and as ive mentioned many times before every time i talk to people my age i get a mini existential crisis. she has a pretty standard london office job and she just got promoted. and it sounds really great and all. but then i thought about what i would do in her situation and i feel like id be completely incapable of doing what she does. id get depressed and think about my purpose too much. and i would feel awkward at the office. she, on the other hand, has always done very well in work environments. she's always had friends at school, most of her friends being from school. and i feel like i was never able to make friends with people who work/study with me and most of my friends come from other areas of my life. i don't know what it is about my personality but i always thrive in non-work environments like i can be the popular person in a group of strangers i met at a party or a random event. and at school i never put any effort into getting to know the people around me. and with my bestie it's the complete opposite. i think it's my superficial side. i can never bridge the gap between meeting a person for the first time or seeing them at school/work/an event and asking them to hang out and becoming close with them.

anyway, the other thing that's been bothering me lately is my relationship with B. there's such a weight in my chest whenever i think about it, it's like a mix of guilt/confusion/uncertainty idk how to explain it. i can't get it out of my mind. it's like a weird itch almost. like there's a wound in my chest that's empty and heavy at the same time and i want to itch it all the time like a mosquito bite. i was thinking about how i should give him a second chance, how it was unfair that i left without explaining anything. i started thinking about how we could go to the cinema or ice skating or maybe even plan a trip to the hot springs some time. and just chill and have fun like before. and maybe he will make an effort this time, maybe he will understand me. he said he will.

i thought about my dream future and what a perfect partner would look like for me. and all i could come up with was that stupid textpost scenario i reblogged a couple of days ago. im a girlboss, a breadwinner, a working gal and he's a househusband who comforts me when i come home. my dream partner has a chill 9-5 or any lowkey low-stress job so that when i come home to him he's relaxed and we never talk about work. and in that scenario B would be great. and that's what i think i want, right?

and i was thinking about B and how maybe all is not lost. and meanwhile he's stopped messaging me. he went to serbia last weekend and i jokingly told my bestie (not the london one, the other one) that i hope that he hooks up with someone there and leaves me alone. and uhhh he hasn't texted me since his serbia trip. i had a very stressful situation last sunday so i texted him panicking and he replied ofc. but since then, nothing. maybe he did move on all of a sudden. but i keep checking my phone every two seconds to see when he's online. but he doesn't message me anymore and the hole in my chest gets worse and worse. i feel addicted to him again.

and i don't know if im doing the right thing. my stepdad said that it's not cool that im leading him on. i haven't told him that ive been texting B and seeing him occasionally. i haven't told anyone bc it's completely absurd and unhealthy and stupid from my side. i am leading him on and i feel horrible about it. but i don't know how i can be honest with myself. if i tell B to fuck off and block him again and tell him that i don't want to be with him, i would be lying. because right now im confused. and yes, i had made my decision when i left, but i feel like i don't have the tools necessary to deal with the consequences of my decision. im in a dark room with no idea where to go or what i should be doing. and it's hurting B and it's hurting me.

i went driving today bc i have my exam soon and i felt like a complete failure bc every time i go driving i cry. i compared myself to my bestie from london again. she would not cry while learning to drive, she would know what to do with B and not lead him on by mistake, and she can make friends at her job. i feel like im behind in life.

[iwadori]

hii i saw ur taking requests and I wanted to ask if you could do a fic with the miya twins,suna and iwa comforting their s/o after they have a dream of them cheating on her? tysm!

Cheating Misunderstandings with the haikyu boys (Osamu,Atsumu)

Word Count:1.8K

Genre:angst,fluff

masterlist

AN: This was kind of on the lines of what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it. Also you guys will see an ‘Empress appearance’ in this work....so don’t kill me.

Osamu:

You were walking to miya onigiri ready to pick up Samu to go home

But when you got to the front door you see Osamu in the shop winding touching another girl

You couldn’t see the girl or Osamu properly because of the angle you were at

But you wouldn’t say your eyes were decieving you, so you did what you should do turn on your heel and get out of there.

You were back at your apartment and you were fuming, you were at your desk and decided that distracting yourself with your mountainous amount of paperwork that you had for your job would be better than sitting down and stewing over watching your boyfriend cheat on you.

‘How long has this been going on,’ you thought to yourself ‘Who even is she? She can’t be a worker’ since you knew everyone that worked there and the manager Empress would definitely not let a worker get with Osamu since you were besties after all.

Distracting yourself, obviously didn’t work and you sent yourself into a spiral of social stalking, trying to find this girl. Which didn’t work, as you only saw her hair and her height which was around a foot shorter than Osamu’s. ‘Stupid Osamu’ you thought, how could he do this? Why would you do this?

You wanted to cry, you were going to cry. Outside you heard a car door shut, and looking out your window you saw Osamu walking out the car with his keys in his mouth and bags (presumably food) in his hand.  

You heard some knocking, well kicking at your front door and a light shout of “Babe, can you open the door my arms our pretty full here.” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even move cause you knew if you saw his face it’ll most likely be him saying ‘Y/N im sorry, but theres someone else’ the thought alone made you cringe. You were knocked out of your thoughts with again the kicking of the door and Osamu saying with a laugh “C’mon babe all you really gonna leave a guy stranded out here, ive got your favourite too and its going to get cold”

You reluctantly opened the door, not actually greeting Osamu and just going back to your room to pack away your paper work and close your laptop. To your surprise Osamu was behind you and gave you a quick kiss to your cheek, which you would usually smile and ease into but today you cringed and quickly moved. Making Osamu look at you with a side eye.

By time he was setteled in you were sitting down at the dinner table eating, with the sound of Gordon Ramsey’s Hell Kitchen filling your awkward silence. Osamu did try to speak to you but you always just responded with “yeah,” “sure,” or “maybe.” Short simple answers that Osamu definitely didn’t like.

When dinner was over and it was the time when you two usually watched a shitty reality tv show together, you decided to go to bed early to avoid any more awkward conversation with Osamu. But before you could clamber into bed, Osamu grabs your arm saying “Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean Samu?” you say with a forced smile on your face even though he couldn’t see it, you just did so he didn’t see you start to tear up “nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Are you Y/N?”

“mhm” you murmured trying to shrug off his hold, you sniffled a bit (attempting to do it quietly) but he heard it.

“No y/n, what’s wrong can’t you just turn around.” The force of you pulling away and he pulling you close, left you falling onto your bed and the tears just started to fall. Osamu immediately crouched down to your eye line “whats wrong love?” he said with a tender voice.

You shook your head in response, “what’s wrong?? Please tell me Y/N.”

“Why would you do that to me?” you say your voice breaking as the tears streamed your face. Osamu started to panick seeing you cry.

“Do what Y/N, what do you mean?”

“You cheated on me? Was I not enough for you? Don’t you love me anymore.”

“Who Y/N!Who.?”

“You touched her, I saw you. I can’t believe you would do that. In public as well” you accused “How could you do that to me.”

“Y/N, baby listen I don’t know what you mean?”

“Don’t call me that Miya, you’re such a fucking liar oh my god.”

“Can you please explain to me what you’re talking about?”

“You. In the shop. I saw you, touching her” you say scowling saying the last line as if It was poisonous.

“In the shop? What do you-” a spark flashed in Osamus eyes before he stood up and started pulling you out the room “You need to come with me.”

“Miya, what are you doing? I’m not going anywhere with you.” you groaned

“Yes you are, and stopped calling me that.”  

He dragged you outside to his car and opened the door for you, standing expectedly waiting for you to get in. “Im not getting in,” you say folding your arms

“Oh yes you are. Just get in the car.”

“But im in my roblox pyjamas” you groaned again feeling like a child.

“And you still hot babe don’t worry” he said winking at you ushering you into the car “Just get in it’ll be a quick ride anyways.”

You pulled outside of onigiri miya and Osamu begin to drag you out again taken you to the office where the security cameras are. He did something on the community and pulled up a date and time which was the time you were at the store earlier.

Playing on the screen was the recording and the incident which you saw before, but this one was a differnet angle. You saw a girl walking one way and Osamu walking the over with a drink in his hand, him spilling the drink on her and cleaning her off with a paper towel. Which you thought was him groping and touching her.

Your cheeks heated up hard in embarrasment, as you realised how you acted and how you got it all wrong. You saw Osamu with a glint in his eye and smirk on his face and before he could say anything you said “Dont. Let’s get back to the car.”  

All was forgotten on your car ride home and you decided to discuss eachothers days (skipping out the ‘cheating’ part.) However after you watched you shows and finally gotten into bed, when Osamu was holding you right against his chest (so close where you could hear his heartbeat) he said, “Y/N, although we agreed to not talk about this incident...even though I will definitely be telling Empress, I just want to let you know that I will never even think about cheating on you let alone actually doing it, I love you so much that the idea of cheating is so uncomprehendable I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Love you ‘Samu, and I'm sorry for making this into a big old thing when I could’ve just asked you about it.” you say in response

“It’s okay babe,” he said kissing your forehead “It’s okay.”

Atsumu

You and Atsumu have been dating fairly recently meeting in your through your friend Empress who was the manager at Atsumu’s brother Osamu’s shop Onigiri Miya.

You’ve only been together 6 months and you’re ready to tell him that you love him

However you being the perfectionist that you are, wanted it to be perfect so of course you had to practice on friend, Empress’ boyfriend Hajime.

“Okay so go.”

“Atsumu, I think you’re a stand-up guy and you’re pretty cute can I love ya.” you said punching Iwa on the arm.

“Y/N, you can’t say that.” Empress said face palming.

“Okay, Atsumu I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up?”

“No dad jokes Y/N.” Hajime said shaking his head

“Why theyre soo funny, what about Atsumu you’re a pain in my ass.” you said winking at Empress.

“Gosh Y/N! Take this seriously for once.” Hajime said blushing at your obvious innuendo.

“Well how did you two confess you undying love to eachother?” you asked and smiled at both their reactions, knowing that they definitely haven’t done that.

“Just say your confession Y/N,” Empress said rolling her eyes

“Okay Atsumu,” you said taking a deep breath “Ever since I met you after your brother spilt a drink on me at his shop and you tried to cheer me up with your terrible jokes I knew that you were the one for me. I love your passion, your drive your determination to make me feel better all the time even when I don’t need you too. I love being with you and I...”

Hajime looked at you expectedly, “I love you,” you said smiling “There I said it I love you!”

“Oh my gosh Y/N! That was so cute you should definitely sa-”

“What the fuck Y/N!” exclaimed a voice next to you “You love this clown.”

“Who are you calling a clown,” said Iwa squaring up to Atsumu making both you and Empress roll your eyes at the heeping testoterone filling the area.  

“Haji let’s go,” said Empress dragging her boyfriend away “and Y/N I'm pretty sure you two need to talk.”

When Hajime and Empress were an ear shot away, Atsumu looked at you with a glare. “So Y/N, is this what you’re doing now slu-”

“Don’t even go there ‘tsumu, you’re such an ass sometimes.” You say walking away “And by the way I was practicing with Iwa to say I fucking love you, you asshole.”

You already stormed off before Atsumu yelled, “Wait! You love me?”

“Of course I do you ass.” you say scowling.

Atsumu jogs over to you and says, “I love you too Y/N” he picks you up and tosses you about in the air, practically doing sommersaults, “Im so happy! Wait till I tell Osamu bout this he’s probably hasn’t told his girlfriend about this.”

“Babe, they’ve been dating for years” You said with a laugh “But go ahead ‘tsumu tell the world.”

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding things.”

“And...?”

“And I'm sorry for calling Iwa a clown, knowing he would definitely beat my ass.”

“And..?”

“And I'm sorry for being an ass.” he said with his head down.

“You are an ass Atsumu,” you said with a smile “But you’re my favourite pain in the ass.” You said winking at him making him burst out with laughter at your stupid innuedo.

Whenever Atsumu sees Osamu he tells him about how much you both love eachother, which always leads them into an argument about who has the better girlfriend and who loves their girlfriend more which always has you laughing.

AN: do you guys see the connection between the two?? Cause if you see the connection I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER :3 Hope you guys enjoyed it, what do you guys think?

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[silverechosandblankmasks]

So iv been seeing quite a bit of claims of c!Dream sympathizers claiming hating/not liking c!Dream or hell, just pointing out his actions, is ableism, and just a general bring of of people talking about his supposed neurodiversity/mental illness, and just general stuff about him, and also c!Wilbur and c!Quackity, and well I wanted to bring some things up for people and analyze the characters a bit! 

First things first; Mental illness doesn't excuse the fact they abused and/or hurt people. If your in a mental breakdown and you lash out (either verbally or physically) you still have to apologies for those you hurt, even if its understandable why you lashed out or broke down.

Wilbur spiraled becuase of the world and actions of people around him, and his own bad mental health and yeah, he’s not fully at fault but it doesn't excuse the fact he hurt people, and nobody has to forgive him or accept his apologies. I feel sorry for him because he’s shown he not only regrets it, but doesn't know how to go about making amends and even then he’s still struggling with mental health. And despite all that when characters or even people this fandom have, or if they do in the future, refuse to forgive him? I totally support that 100% because of what he did or is doing. Understanding his struggle and he needs help doesn't equal support or forgiveness.

Quackity as well! His actions can be explained with what he went through as, but it doesn't excuse the fact he’s manipulating and abusing people, regardless of who they are. Granted I'm more sympathetic to the poor souls he dragged into Las Nevadas in his bid for power then Dream, but he’s still torturing the dude and that's highly fucked up. He also is suffering from mental health and past abuse, but again doesn't excuse his actions towards others.

Dream, who has shown no real canon reason for his actions other then a reach for control and getting upset when he didn't get it, has also done 10x worse then what Wilbur did, did it multiple times, and has never showed remorse other when he was trying to save himself from being murdered or hurt, and after he was ‘safe’, continued to taunt those around him. If he has some sort of mental illness or disability, which again we have no proof of btw, it doesn't excuse the fact he literally abused and manipulated most people on the server, including some of his closest friends as well as Tommy mainly, with no remorse.

The difference is we see Wilbur struggle with his choices and his spiraling, and him trying to make amends and fix things, but with Dream? Dream hasn't showed any sign of remorse outside of when he was trying to manipulate people or get them to stop hurting him. Maybe he has some sort of inward struggle like Wilbur did, who knows! But we haven't seen it so trying to speculate on something that we literally haven't seen is impossible.

Do I think he deserves to be locked up in Pandora's vault? Yes, but that's becuase he’s not a real person and as a fan that's hard to gauge. In universe its pretty inhumane of other characters but also remember, after everything he’s done, its not hard to believe that nobody on that god forsaken server wants to help him! After all, he built that to throw someone else into, so can you tell me that him being put there and suffering at his own hands isn’t a bit deserved? Plus we all know the moment he got put in there, it was merely a matter of when he’d get out again lets be real.

Now, do I think he deserved to be tortured? Not really, as I think Pandora’s vault is enough tbh, but its also more about why and who is doing it tbh, rather then the torture itself. Can anyone really be surprised nobody wants to help him after all he did? None of the people in universe are professionals and he’s hurt most of them, so obvi their biased. Plus, not everybody knows what's going on!

So TLDR; Dream, Quackity, and Wilbur are excellent cases of people who have done things for many reasons, some more explained then others, but whatever their reasons are, and excusing their actions becuase of mental illness or neurodivergence doesn't excuse the people they hurt as well. Also we have no actual evidence on why Dream did what he did, let alone supposed neurodivergent or mental illness claims when there’s no proof and even then it wouldn't excuse him.

Get out of here with your ‘your being ableist UwU’ or ‘bla bla bla c!Dream isnt as bad bla he was just trying to make it better before tommy came along’ shit when it comes to c!Dream, he tortured and abused someone until they wanted to die, and they fact it was an already traumatized minor makes it even worse, if that's somehow possible. Nothing excuses that! Not even if you didn't like Tommy, nothing excuses what Dream did!!! He was also trying to find a way to have total control over everybody else on the server too by manipulating them, if you have forgot that. That's also manipulative and controlling, ie abusive, behavior. 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

harry’s condo : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession. 

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”