#when has it become so difficult for me to draw cute girls i actually had to do studies for these...

[touteytout]

hq girlies

[ghooostbaby]

deeeep dive into why and how wei wuxian and lan wangji love each other, complete each other, are the inverse reflection of each other’s deeply hidden internal selves mirrored through the other’s external self, lan wangji’s inner wildness that he has to conceal and protect recognizing and loving wei wuxian’s outer wildness, wei wuxian’s deep, fuddy-duddy morality and values that he conceals with an elaborate subterfuge of jokes, mischief, and bravado, seeing and loving in lan wangji the ability to say no that it was never safe for him to express directly, “between you and me there is no need for thank you and sorry”

oh and a slight diversion midway through into a manifesto on WEI WUXIAN IS NOT INSECURE the whole story is about a society where being liked is ESSENTIAL for survival and it is actually completely perilous not to be liked, and his “people pleasing” is a skill and tool for his survival especially as an orphan and proven to be a necessary one when he stops doing it and STOPS SURVIVING

after the cut discussing the very interesting dynamics of consent in general in the novel, but not going into the consensual non-consent kink stuff till the last paragraph if you need to avoid for any reason.

I've been thinking about how Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian the exterior, unfettered expression of the wildness Lan WangJi holds in him and protects with rigid codes of conduct, propriety and outward dignity.

I have had this sense that these two are mirrors, either one reflecting the hidden, interior (and unallowed) self of the other. but it seemed more clear from Lan WangJi's side, especially knowing about his history with his mother and the spicy side that emerges when he drinks and in the extras.

I also - just... the way this whole story shows how romantic love is truly this longing for your self, to become yourself, to become the thing you're not allowed to be, seeing in that person the expression of whatever it is you can't become and longing for it, protecting it, joining with it as closely as you can without ever being able to let it live inside your own body.

On the surface it seems a lot more difficult for Wei WuXian to find a piece of his soul in Lan Wangji. I think its a bit too simplistic to see whatever draws Wei WuXian to Lan Wangji as a reverse-psychology sort of craving of acceptance from the only one who won't give it, pushing and pushing against this impenetrable boundary that he needs to break to feel assurance that no matter what he can make anyone accept him.

And he is SO drawn - in a mind boggling way, in the teenage flashbacks Lan WangJi rudely and aggressively throws him off over and over and Wei WuXian cannot keep away! Even when he talks about how boring Lan WangJi is, he never stops trying to be around him and talk to him.

I've seen discussions of the way Wei WuXian has always relied on the goodwill of others to survive, and that his placating of others to survive is a character flaw. Although that seems only halfway true. 

As a young child he didn't have anyone's goodwill for a while and he survived, and it seems like he can always find a way to survive from whatever means and sometimes very limited resources he has at his disposal. Doing what he has to do to become powerful enough to survive losing his core and being thrown into the burial mounds slowly costs him the goodwill of everyone around him - and what happens to him as a result shows how much placation was a truly necessary for someone without the protection of biological/hereditary family bonds.

(Don’t get me started on how his loss of his golden core and his development of demonic cultivation to give himself power by ‘unnatural methods’ through the use of a musical instrument is a metaphor for disability and the way ableist society sees the use of accessibility devices and tools. Actually please DO get my started haha.)

Wei WuXian is so charismatic and seems very used to getting what he wants and needs on the strength of that. He pushes a lot of boundaries and seems pretty confident and flexibly prepared to handle the consequences, whether beatings or harsh words. But he does work so hard to make others feel good, good with him, good with themselves.

When he is in the cave with Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian is described as "like one who forgets all past pain as soon as the wound heals". He can't resist coming up beside Lan WangJi and talking to him again and again after every time Lan WangJi pushes him off, only finally staying away when Lan WangJi bites him (and he still keeps trying to talk to him after a little bit!) and then calls him an awful person (!!! Bad Wangji! :(((( ). In the end, when Lan WangJi (very minimally) discloses what happened to his sect and his father, and even cries, because of all the defences/assaults Lan WangJi has put up Wei WuXian can't do anything or say anything to help and feels miserable.

Lan WangJi just absolutely refuses to allow Wei WuXian to take care of him - and I began to wonder maybe that’s what Wei WuXian actually really likes about him? Why he is unable to resist coming up to Lan WangJi again and again? Maybe because Lan WangJi refuses to let Wei WuXian appease him. He’s not trying to crack Lan WangJi to get to this impenetrable place of approval and acceptance. In a way he can’t quite understand, Lan WangJi is a respite for Wei WuXian from the constant work to be the one who pleases.

And  how different this is to how Wei WuXian is (or has to be) with Jiang Cheng when he wakes up in Lotus Pier after the cave. Jiang Cheng gets so down and really really needs Wei WuXian to do what he does so well (and wasn’t allowed to do with Lan WangJi) - chasing Jiang Cheng down while being injured and reassuring him about all his insecurities about his father's acceptance and becoming a sect leader and Wei WuXian's own abilities excelling his - and at first Jiang Cheng is pushing him away, but he really does need Wei WuXian to do all this to feel better.

Wei WuXian is described as not wanting to be lonely, and not wanting to see other people unhappy, and he keeps trying to push and pull with whatever he has to not be lonely and lift the mood for those around him. I don't think it's a kind of codependency or insecurity. It’s not that Wei WuXian is afraid to say no, in fact I would say he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, but he must always do it creatively, with humour. Similarly to Nie Huaisang, he uses a persona of foolishness to give himself a covert agency.

I also think I'm writing this because I don't like seeing this discussed as a sad bean character flaw for him to always need to be liked - its a strategy, its a tool, its how he survives and excels. Doesn’t the whole story prove how essential being liked is to a human’s survival? And he is so so good at being liked, in making others happy, even when he is refusing to do what others want from him that he doesn't want to do, he does it in a way that deflects criticism, with a smiling bravado that never says what it truly means and has people writing him off as shameless or foolish or just endearing himself toward them despite themselves.

He is always at work really, with jokes and flattery or mischief and teasing, to get the resources he wants and needs. Case and point, when he makes a big coquettish show for mianmian, definitely not being "people pleasing" for her, but the group of girls around them all find it funny and cute and in the end she gives him a perfume sachet which ends up being a valuable resource for later. Or the time he outright tells Jiang Cheng that if you give the girls some lotus seeds they'll remember you and return the favour in the future. (Also notice how his interactions with girls seen as flirtatious are actually strategic resource-gathering acts.) These are the skills he has developed to meet his own needs. (THIS IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW. I REPEAT.) He takes what he needs and steals from the Lotus Pier markets knowing it'll be paid for, he lives like he never know when his next windfall will come from so he'll take what he can when he can find it. Like Jiang Fengmian said, if there is no guarantee of a meal in the future then today's meal should still be enjoyed. It’s how Wei WuXian said to Nie Huaisang at Cloud Recesses, you have to find ways to make your own fun out of whatever you have. So he gets kicked out of class, goes fishing, gets alcohol, he pursues his own pleasure. He actually is quite insistent of his own agency and right to choose, he just can never directly say no.

And that little detail that Wei WuXian always tucks coins into his clothes just in case, that makes him able to buy food when he and Jiang Cheng are on the run... breaks my heart and reveals so much about the way Wei WuXian is constantly at work on ensuring his own survival and never takes for granted whether he is safe (he knows he never is). 

I've seen some people talking about Wei WuXian sacrificing so much for his brother and sister out of a need to be accepted out of a chronic sense of insecurity. But isn’t this just true? Doesn't he live in a world where being accepted is absolutely essential for survival? Doesn’t this whole story show the cruelty of a social system based on networks of hereditary/biological family that closes out and scapegoats any outsiders, and that without biological family connections that can enclose around you, you can never truly be safe if not constantly working to earn acceptance? (And then beautifully ends with the way a gay romantic relationship that queers marriage/family/etc disrupts all this and creates safety and inclusion for Wei WuXian without needing a normative family.) (AKA romantic love does not resolve some internal personal problem in Wei WuXian but disrupts and refuses and rebels against the problem of SOCIETY.) (*breathes heavily*)

And that’s why Lan WangJi is magnetizing to Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi is always saying no. Although what Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian is an exterior wildness, Wei WuXian is not really out of control so much as he is playing and caring and supplicating and showing off and pleasing people to get the resources and the acceptance he needs to live his life. He has firm values and desires that he can never outwardly state, only creatively spinning plates to distract and deflect while he refuses what goes against his values, protects who he cares for, or takes what he needs to in order to survive/thrive. Lan WangJi embodies an exterior of resoluteness and direct agency that Wei WuXian doesn't have the luxury of. And he's so drawn to him for his ability to repeatedly say no, to refuse to get along, or make others laugh, make other people happy, but just simply follow what he thinks is right.

Wei WuXian’s outward wild movement protects an inward stillness. He is an exterior of people-pleasing around an interior of refusal. He is an exterior of youthful rebellion around an interior of unflinching morality. He sees in Lan WangJi the outward expression of his stillness, his morality, his resistance that he can't express, that he's had to protect.

FYI after the cut gets more into the dynamics of consent in the story, and the last paragraph directly talks about consensual non-consent kink play in wangxian’s relationship.

When Wei WuXian is with Lan WangJi, there is no work to be done. Lan WangJi cannot be swayed by him, and so there's no point vying for resources or favors. Lan WangJi will either give him everything or refuse him everything based on who he is, it does not matter what Wei WuXian does and he can't do anything that will change Lan WangJi’s mind. Someone he literally can't win over. After the resurrection, they are often in an adorable tug of war, where Wei WuXian tries to take care of Lan WangJi, while Lan WangJi won't allow him to but demands to care of Wei WuXian right back. Actually, Lan WangJi insists that Wei WuXian take everything he wants or needs from him and is even angry when he doesn't take or when Wei WuXian tries to offer a gesture in return, even something as simple as a thank you Lan WangJi won't accept. It’s kind of adorable how frustrated Wei WuXian is in doing this thing he's learned that he needs to do, and just... so confused by Lan WangJi, and has to find a way to please this person who aggressively refuses to be pleased and is ONLY pleased by Wei WuXian being pleased.

(Not to mention the way Wei WuXian delights in finding that Lan WangJi can’t say what he wants, and they have sort of these chaotic cohesive both-being-so-pleased-by-working-hard-to-please each-other moments where Wei WuXian is letting Lan WangJi please him by finding out what pleases Lan WangJi and giving it to him.)

The wildness Lan WangJi had always hidden within himself is something he sees as just as dangerous as Wei WuXian thinks of his desire to refuse. He saw his mother be socially alienated, shunned, and eventually die because of her wildness. His ability to survive in the world, aka to be accepted by his family, is contingent on him being able to control this inner wildness. From a young age (re: Phoenix Mountain kiss) he could only understand his sexual desires for Wei WuXian as something repulsive or dangerous that had to be repressed and controlled, and that the only way he could imagine his desires as possible was as non-consensual. His secret gay desires were never available to him as anything but something monstrous.

Importantly, it’s not like everyone else other than Lan WangJi are all vampires cruelly demanding Wei WuXian’s constant sacrifice. Wei WuXian is always vibrantly, charismatically offering so much, before anyone has asked. It’s Wei WuXian who creates this kind of relationship for himself again and again. It’s Lan WangJi who simply refuses - he refuses to charmed, to be cared for. And so in the end Lan WangJi becomes the one person who Wei WuXian feels doesn't need anything from him. When he says he's eating the corpse's fruit to save Lan WangJi money and Lan WangJi says that will never be necessary. Or when Wei WuXian asks what toy he should win for Lan WangJi at the market game, and Lan WangJi says anything Wei WuXian gets will be the one he wants. (XD stahhhhp it’s too sweet !!!) He really just wants Wei WuXian to be, to exist, to spend his life discovering his own desires and allow Lan WangJi to help satisfy them, he doesn't want anything from Wei WuXian other than him living - happy and safe.

It takes someone like Lan WangJi to refuse Wei WuXian’s aggressive generosity, it’s definitely not an easy thing to say no to Wei WuXian, dazzling or annoying people so chaotically before they even realize there’s something to say no to. The sacrifice he gives to Jiang Cheng, he never even offers a choice - and perhaps it would have been too much for Jiang Cheng to accept if he had the chance.

Lan WangJi’s statement "Between us there is no need for thank you and sorry" seems like one of the most important sentences in the novel, and you can’t help but noticed the way “sorry” and “thank you” is littered meaningfully through the book. What is owed, what the characters owe to each other, the give and take, touches every part of the story (down to wangxian's erotic explorations!).

When Jiang Cheng talks to Wei WuXian at the Guanyin temple he makes a lot of contradictory statements about what Wei WuXian owes, what he was given, what he took, what he (Wei WuXian still) is owed in return. Wei WuXian, according to Jiang Cheng, took everything from the Jiang clan, and paid them back with their deaths. The Jiang clan give him his life when they took him in, and he owed Jiang Cheng service for the rest of his life as the right hand to the sect leader, that’s what Wei WuXian had promised anyway. At the same time, Wei WuXian sacrificed everything (his golden core) to Jiang Cheng, by giving everything he was taking one more thing - Jiang Cheng’s right to even be angry at him. Jiang Cheng had taken everything from Wei WuXian. Everything that happened around Wei WuXian after could be said to be because of the loss of his golden core, which Jiang Cheng might be said to be responsible for. But he never asked for it, maybe he never would have wanted it. He wishes Wei WuXian told him, but Jiang Cheng never told Wei WuXian his golden core was melted while he was sacrificing himself to save Wei WuXian. He wants Wei wuxian to say sorry, but that makes him feel pathetic. And Jiang Cheng says sorry too. It’s a mess of paradoxes, and in the end somehow it seems like the scales are balanced in the most hollow, dismal way.

What is owed, what is given, what is taken ... Wei WuXian has never been part of a family. He has always had to say thank you and sorry for everything he's taken. Wei WuXian himself admits that he used "thank you" as a way to enforce distance between himself and Lan WangJi. Lan WangJi's point i think is that they belong to each other, Wei WuXian is his, and he is Wei WuXian's, unconditionally. The way that Jiang Cheng speaks of him in the Guanyin temple (admittedly I read a fan translation and this is very nuanced, related to slight variations of grammar), even when Jiang Cheng clearly is so broken by the loss of Wei WuXian from his life, he talks about Wei WuXian as an outsider. It is what MY family gave to YOU, never what you took from our family. But at one point Wei WuXian was part of their family - but he takes too much, and becomes an ex-disciple, not a brother. Wei WuXian’s inclusion as a Jiang was always conditional. 

Even when Wen Qing and Wen Ning leave him to go take the blame for qiongqing path they tell him "thank you and sorry", drawing a line between them and him, so he doesn’t even belong to these people who he sacrificed everything for. The way Wei WuXian acted when he was younger, he was always keenly aware of this - he always knew that he didn’t belong to anyone, no one is going to protect him unconditionally. And after first escaping the Burial Mounds, he is done pretending. When Lan WangJi warns him about what a demonic cultivation path will do to his heart, Wei WuXian replies: “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” He is done pleasing. Nothing has changed really, he still belongs to no one and is alone, but now he is angry about it, and instead of saying thank you and sorry he is going to become too powerful to be at anyone's mercy. And then we see in the story afterward what happens to people who don't say thank you and sorry.

The whole point I think is the impossibility of choice, the impossibility of consent in this society. If he didn't forgo the behaviour his social acceptance was conditional on, he wouldn't have survived the burial mounds. But once he becomes powerful enough to survive and get revenge on the Wens, he is socially outcast. Except he was already outcast from the beginning.

And so how do Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi find a way through all that to a life together where all their desires are possible, where Wei WuXian can say no while also being pleasing (safe) to others, and Lan WangJi can indulge in his wild desires while still being good? The answer is kinky sex!

It is kind of miraculous and beautiful how Wei WuXian finds a way to say no, while simultaneously pleasing Lan WangJi, giving pleasure, while taking it, saying no, and knowing his refusal is not just tolerated, but gives Lan WangJi pleasure, knowing Lan wangji and knowing the painful belief Lan WangJi holds within that his desires are unacceptable and unspeakable, and that Wei WuXian can take care of Lan Wangji in a secret little way and please him and give everything to him by craving this wildness in Lan WangJi while at the same time he gets to say no again and again , and it won't push Lan WangJi away, he can refuse everything while at the same time be totally pleasing and thus safe, and also for Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian's pleasure at saying "no" while still being held onto, that he genuinely wants to be fucked even while begging Lan WangJi to stop (and the many ways he does give his consent for this throughout, especially their first time), allows Lan WangJi the ecstatic feeling that this idea that his sexual desires are only possible through force are not just something his lover forgives him for but something his lover is SO turned on by, and that he has consent for his fantasies of non-consent, Wei WuXian has the same fantasies from the other side, he is doing what he is supposed to while doing what he shouldn't, and actually these monstrous feelings in him allow him to take care of Wei WuXian in a way that he needs - that they both need - and all these impulses that are so wrong with Wei WuXian become very right and a way to do good. And they are just both so perfect and perfect for each other and I love them and I am so happy for them to have a long kinky life together.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

[your-stoat-stands-unopposed]

I'm enby and feeling really shitty cuz of dumb menstrual stuff, do you think you could do like, P03 comforting reader thru dysphoria and maybe him relating to it cuz of G0lly trans things and just general cuteness

This... is... almost frighteningly relevant to me at the moment because I am also an enby going through dysphoria because of menstruation right now, so absolutely I can do this!

Strength.

Pairing: None.

Warnings: Gender dysphoria, mentions of a character having their period. Reader is afab and trans (can be read as nonbinary or trans male.)

Summary: "But you do realise... everything you just said to me... that all applies to you, too."

There's a clawlike metal hand waving slowly side to side in front of your face, and that's what it takes to make you realise you'd zoned out. Blinking your eyes, bringing yourself back to reality, you clear your throat and straighten your back and try to act as though there's nothing wrong.

In front of you, P03 tilts his monitor quizzically, drawing his hand away from you. "What's up?" he asks, sounding partly curious and partly concerned. "Didn't want to say anything while everyone else was around, but you've been staring into space for like a minute solid."

"Ah, n-nothing." You fold your arms as an excuse to rest your hands near your cramping stomach, hoping the slight grimace on your face isn't noticeable. "I'm... fine."

The bot leans just that little bit closer to you, enough to make you go a little cross-eyed as you watch. "Your eyes are red," he observes, moving back once more. "You were crying about something."

Now you're grimacing for a different reason... damn it, why does he have to be so perceptive...?

"I'm just, ah, going through it," you shrug a shoulder, sniffling once, hoping it seemed natural. "Everything kind of hurts, is all."

His monitor displays an ellipsis for a moment, as he seems to be in thought. "As in physical hurt, or emotional hurt?"

"...Both."

You try to keep it together, but it's difficult. Had you been around anyone you were less close to, you would've tried harder to mask how you were feeling; but, well... P03 has become a close friend ever since you'd arrived here, so it's a little harder to keep yourself from wanting to share your true feelings.

So, you do.

"...Every month," you begin carefully, eyes flickering down to the ground, "I go through this... thing. This physical thing. And it feels... wrong." Tears touch your eyes once more, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your hand resting over them. "It makes me think about... a lot of things that are wrong. Inside. Outside. All of it."

There's a short moment of silence, before you feel the pleasant coolness of his arm wrapping around you, and you're lightly tugged to lean against the robot's body at your side, your head resting on his shoulder.

"If you're comfortable with it... you can tell me more," he says softly. "But only if you are."

"I just-- don't like it," you murmur, sniffling again. "It reminds me that... that I'm who I am, but some things are... well, wrong."

His arm slightly tightens around you, his hand slowly trailing up and down against your forearm. "I'm sorry, challenger," he says; and he sounds so... genuine. "What you're going through isn't easy. I've been there."

...You gaze up at him, your eyes unknowingly widened, your head tilting curiously.

A soft, synthesised chuckle escapes him at your reaction, his hand wandering upwards to idly play with your hair. "It's cool, I don't mind talking about it," he answers the question you didn't dare to actually ask. "So... A very long time ago, people used to call me by another name. And when I went by that other name, people thought I was a girl."

Your eyes widen further. You hadn't known...

"But things changed, and I changed, and I became confident enough to let 'em know that actually no, I'm not a girl. And I changed my name, and that's been how it is for a long time now." A slight shrug of his shoulder. "That's it."

"'That's it?'" you repeat, surprised. "P03, it takes so much strength to be able to do what you did... I'm so proud of you," your arms shift to wrap around him, and now you're the one doing the cuddling rather than being cuddled. "And I'm so grateful that you'd tell me... Thank you, really."

"Thank you too..." His laughter sounds from where his monitor now rests against your shoulder. "Wow. This is what it's like to have someone who's proud of you, huh? Feels... nice." On his display, his eyes turn up to face you.

"But you do realise... everything you just said to me... that all applies to you, too."

His hand moves to gently take a hold of your own.

"Listen. I know it's hard, feeling like everything's all wrong... being called the wrong name, being referred to as the wrong things... In fact, it's worse than hard; it's damn awful."

You nod. It... it is. It really, really is.

"But you're strong," his hand squeezes lightly around yours. "And even when things feel wrong... even if things never feel entirely right... as long as you don't lose sight of who you are, that strength is gonna get you through. I promise."

Your free hand rests lightly over your mouth, your heart warm, your lips curving in a soft smile. "Thank you," you barely manage the words out.

"Nah. I didn't do anything," P03 slides out of your embrace, returning your smile, gently brushing stray tears from your cheeks. "I only reminded you of what you've already got in you."

You raise a hand to rest gently over his own, drawing in a cleansing breath and releasing it slowly as you hold his hand to your cheek.

And even though it still hurts... you have faith in your friend, and you have faith in yourself.

And you know it's true: come what may, right or wrong... you're strong enough to get through.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

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

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

word count: 17.2k

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

///

Harry hates clubs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the f—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the culture shock hit. 

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

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

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Precisely his point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So how do you like your new home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[uwuwriting]

Midoriya, Todoroki and Shinsou being hit by a de-aging quirk

Request: HEY HEY HEYYY! Since I’ve seen you simping over Shinsou and sometimes if not all the time over Todoroki I would like to request the boys getting hit by a deaging quirk and having to be babied by their girlfriendssss. Oh and if you’d like could you add Midoriya in the mix? My boy needs more simps and you are president of the group. -anonymous

I’m in tears from the ask. I’ve been caught simping one too many times and now yall are calling me out. Snitches. SNITCHES GET STITCHES!!! Jk ... unless. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: mild angst and mentions of trauma/bullying, the majority is fluff though.

Midoriya Izuku

-Baby face™

-You sure you are not looking at his normal face?

-I mean he IS baby and he looks baby.....baby.

-Anyways

-You were on patrol with the hero you were training with when you got called in to deal with an attack. 

-They didn’t give you many details only that the previous heroes that were on the scene were struggling. 

-So once there you started fighting with the villain, dodging his attacks effortlessly until you spotted a puff of green hair. 

-Izuku was here? 

-Why hadn’t you seen him?

-It’s not like him to run from a fight, maybe he’s hurt?

-Calling out to him you dodged the villain again and slid behind the car you saw last saw him and was met with .... a toddler??

-Tears were running down the boys’ face as he was trying to pry a small metal bar from under some debris.

-He looked awfully a lot like you boyfriend and for only a moment you completely forgot about the villain and drowned in the adorableness of the toddler. 

-He was mumbling All Might’s key phrase under his breath adding his own small punchlines. 

-Once the bar was free he raised it in the air with shaky hands and called out, “I’m here! Midoriya Izuku will save you!”

-So that’s what those beams of light do if they hit you. 

-Activating your ear piece you alerted your ‘boss’ that there was a child here and to not get hit by the beams unless you wanted to go back to your toddler days. 

-After assuring you that everything was under control and that you could leave you picked Izuku up and made your way to the school.

-Recovery Girl said that the quirk should ware off in a day or two and until then Aizawa had named you his temporary care taker. 

-In your dorm, Izuku was overly curious. 

-He was opening boxes and drawers, rampaging through your equipment and fawning over your hero costume. 

-He sat down after what felt like an eternity and started bombarding you with questions about your hero studies, your quirk, your technique, your teachers, All Might, your classmates, their quirks, All Might, your favorite hero, the hero you work with, ALL MIGHT.

-It was cute you would give him that but simultaneously he was talking your ear off. 

-And when you told him that All Might was actually one of your teachers?

-You are now taking an impromptu trip to the teachers lounge to visit All Might. 

-Thankfully he’s there and he doesn’t have any classes for the rest of the day so he spends most of his free time with baby Izuku. 

-You are pushed to the side for most of the afternoon until Izuku notices you sitting alone while he plays with All Might and he feels by. 

-Waving goodbye to All Might he waddled over to you and climbed on your lap, giving you a hug and asking what YOU wanted to do. 

-HE IS SO DAMN CUTE EYE-

-You go back to your dorm and spend the rest of your afternoon and night there. 

-You ordered his favorite food and put on a Disney movie. 

-He wouldn’t leave your lap, always staying either between your legs or hugging you. 

-He is such a cuddle bug omg!!!

-You find him adorable and just snuggle him, hugging him harder and kissing his forehead. 

-When it was time for bed he really didn’t want to go to sleep. 

-You may have chased him around your room trying to put on one of his shirts that you had in your room as a pj. 

-You had to tickle him into submission.

-You tucked him in and went to make you own makeshift bed on the floor so you wouldn’t bother him. 

- “Y-Y/N-san c-can you sleep h-here?”

-He was blushing and avoiding your gaze as he waited for you answer. 

-Smiling at him you put on your own pjs *which were a pair of shorts and one of his sweatshirts* and jump under the covers. 

-He snuggled into your chest, giving you a small peck on the cheek and falling asleep in like a second. 

-You were soft to the very soul. 

-You fell asleep rather quickly yourself feeling all warm inside. 

-The next morning you woke up with strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist and steady breathing making a broad chest rise and fall. 

-Izuku squinted at the morning light as you stirred slightly and looked down meeting your hooded eyes. 

- “Thank you princess, for everything.”

Bonus:

“You were an adorable baby you know that?”

“Y/N stop!!!”

“Had me almost yeeting our protection out the window.”

“Y/N!”

Todoroki Shouto

-His dad called you.

 -You were chilling in his dorm waiting for him to come back from his patrol with his dad. 

-You were sick the past few days and didn’t go to your hero studies.

-Shouto had been taking care of you but he had to leave at some point for his own studies. 

-Now Shouto has placed you as his emergency call on his phone along side Fuyumi and Deku. 

-You were the first name on the list and that’s why you were talking with his dad. 

- “Shouto was hit by a quirk while we were out and he is being ....difficult. I would prefer if you come get him I don’t think he would come near me anyways.”

-You heard a small cry in the back and asked immediately for their location. 

-I swear you haven’t gotten ready faster in your life.

-Arriving at the location you were met with.... a sight.

-Standing trembling across from Endeavor was a baby Shouto.

-He didn’t look a day over four, his scar was gone but his eyes were full of fear. 

-Endeavor was looking at him with a small frown on his face. 

-When he spotted you his eyes stayed on what you were wearing before motioning towards Shouto. 

-Look you were staying in YOUR boyfriend’s room surrounded by HIS clothes it was only logical for you to grab one of his hoodies. 

-Making your way to the terrified toddler you crouched down a few paces away from him.

-Giving him a small smile you whispered a shy ‘Hi Sho’ and waited for him to approach you. 

-His dual colored eyes scanned you before glancing back at his father who had turned his back to you and was talking on the phone. 

- “He won’t hurt you while I’m here. I won’t let him Sho I promise.”

-At that his eyes widened further and without warning he launched himself at you wrapping his small arms around your torso, a hiccup leaving his trembling lips. 

- “N-no he w-will hurt you l-like m-mommy *sob* I-I don’t want h-him to h-hurt you.” 

-You carefully brought him into a hug leaving a kiss on the top of his head as you whispered reassurances in his ear. 

-He stopped crying after a while and agreed on coming with you to the dorms. 

- “I’m taking him to UA he will be safe there.”

-You didn’t really wait for a response before scooping him up in your arms and walking off towards the school. 

-Once there you stopped by Aizawa’s room informing him of the situation. 

-He allowed you to take him to his room and stay with him for as long as he is like this.

-In his room you didn’t put him down opting to get everything ready for your Disney marathons while he was still in your arms. 

-All the while Shouto was playing with strands of your hair and asking you small questions about you, your room, your school. 

-He was still shy though, never talking too much and always speaking in a hushed tone. 

-Poor baby was so afraid of everything. 

-Once all was in place, you settled on his bed covering both of you in a blanket while he rested between your legs. 

-During the first movie he sat there his full attention on the screen. 

-By the time you reached the third movie he was becoming restless, looking around the room and ignoring the movie as a whole. 

-Then you heard his stomach rumbling.

- “Why don’t we go make some cold soba hm?”

-You haven’t seen him smile that bright since the moment he turned and it was the cutest most precious sight in the world. 

-While making soba he was rather talkative even going as far as letting out giggles and small laughs.

-He enjoyed his soba and you were happy since you saw him without that petrified glint in his eyes. 

-When it was time for bed he was very obedient, immediately putting on the clothes you had out for him and laying in bed instantly.

-He had made no requests all this time so it surprised you when he tugged at your hoodie sleeve and motioned to the spot beside him with his eyes. 

-Giggling you settled next to him and gave him a small peck on the nose making him scrunch it up. 

- “Goodnight Sho.”

-He was already half asleep when you whispered goodnight.

- “G’night, love you.”

-EVEN HIS MUMBLING WAS SO CUTE!!!

- “I love you too.”

-The next day you woke up alone and if you were being honest you had a mini heart attack.

-Then the door opened and your fully grown boyfriend walked in, tray in hand as the smell of pancakes filled the room. 

- “I can’t thank you enough for yesterday, love.”

-Sitting down next to you he kissed you on the lips, a love struck look on his face.

- “I love you.”

Bonus:

“Seeing you being so motherly had me imagining our kids.”

“Shouto we are 15....”

“I can always steal my dad’s credit card....”

 “......You’ve got a point.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

*BABY BOY WON’T YOU COME MY WAY?????*

-He was training with some of Aizawa’s old coworkers. 

-He didn’t dodge an attack and was hit square in the chest. 

-Now he was buried under a pile of clothes, whimpers leaving his lips. 

-Aizawa went into a panic.....how many kids would he have to adopt?? 

-Now you two are not very vocal about your relationship, borderline keeping it under wraps not wanting to draw much attention to you. 

-But Aizawa is dad and he knows... KNOWS when one of his students has a crush. 

-Especially if it’s a girl since all the girls need an extra dad to scare bad boyfriends away. 

-So he hasn’t missed how you look at each other or how you may have come back into class smelling like Shinsou. 

-He has even seen you in one of Shinsou’s hoodies. 

-If he was being honest he caught you off guard.

-It was like  3 am and you had gotten up to grab a glass of water.

-Aizawa was still up grading some papers and he scared the shit out of you; idk how your screech didn’t wake anyone up. 

-The only comment he made was nice hoodie and you KNEW he had caught a whiff of your relationship. 

-So that’s the reason why Aizawa is now knocking on YOUR door ready to leave a very scared Shinsou in your care. 

-Babysitting......great. 

-Once you opened the door your face contorted into three emotions: fear cause once again you were wearing your boyfriend’s clothes, confusion cause why was there a toddler sized Shinsou in his arms and anxiety cause well your homeroom teacher was standing right outside your bombarded room in which you should have been studying but you could faintly hear the animal crossing music coming from your switch. 

- “Hitoshi was hit by a de-aging quirk and since you two are so....close I’ll leave him with you. Plus I trust you.” 

-And with that he placed baby Shin in your arms and left. 

-You two looked at one another before you let out a small laugh trying to lighten up the mood. 

-Tears formed in the corners of his eyes as he stared at you. 

-Bringing him closer to your chest you started rocking him back and forth humming a tune he would sing to you when you were having a bad day. 

-He calmed down immediately. 

-Like stopped sniffling the moment he heard the tune.

-He started humming along with you and as you pulled him from your chest you wiped away the stray tears giving him another smile in the process. 

-He rested his forehead gently on your own as his small hands came to grab your cheeks. 

-The rest of your time with him was very calm and quiet. 

-He was a very reserved and calm child never making a request or whining. 

-You two colored some outlines you printed and then played a few board games. 

-He got out of his shell when you suggested going for a walk to the park to pet the kitties. 

-He wouldn’t let go of your hand even when he saw the cats and you could feel how excited he was. 

-He was overly attached to you calling you Y/N-chan and even going as far as to say ‘love you’ before his afternoon nap. 

-Your heart was MELTING.

-He was adorable. 

-So cute with his lavender hair standing up even at this age and his violet eyes scanning everything and everyone. 

-He was a blessing. 

-Then he started talking in his sleep and that’s when you realized why he was such a low maintenance child. 

-His whimpers echoed through the dorm as he begged someone to leave him alone. 

-That he wouldn’t use his quirk. 

-That  he wasn’t a villain.

-He had talked to you about his past, how people used to bully him for his quirk or how they would call him a villain. 

-It broke your heart seeing that even at the early age of four he had nightmares of what those kids said to him. 

-Climbing in bed beside him you brought him flush to your chest running a hand through his hair as you peppered his forehead with kisses. 

- “Shhh baby shh. I’m here they can’t hurt you.”

-You fell asleep when he finally stopped crying. 

-When you woke up you were laying flat on Shinsou’s chest his hands running mindlessly up and down your back. 

- “I’m sorry for forcing you to take care of me kitten.”

-Kissing up his neck until you reached his lips you added:

- “You were an angel there’s no need to apologize love.”

-He hugged you incredibly tighter, burying his face in your hair. 

-He was so deeply in love with you words cannot express. 

Bonus:

“Next time I’m not pulling out.”

“Hitoshi what the hell??”

“What? You expect me to see you all motherly and NOT want to get you pregnant as soon as possible?”

“I think someone has a breeding kink.”

“Yeah yeah wait till you see me with a toddler....you’ll be begging me to fill-”

“SHUT UP!!!”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

[seijorhi]

Ok so YouTube keeps recommending anime clips from that one rent a girlfriend anime and now all I can think of is reader renting a boyfriend just to have yandiere bokuto or maybe hajime become infatuated with her and immediately touching her way more than what the contract has written on it 💦

I am on a Fukurodani kick this week, so let’s go with our darling boy Bokuto 😌

Once again Rhi learns that she is actually incapable of creating a ‘short drabble’

TW implied non-con

It’s embarrassing. You can’t even get a date to your ex boyfriend’s wedding. The fact that you’re even going to your ex’s wedding is bad enough as it is- you’d tried to wriggle out of it, but considering the girl he’s marrying is your cousin, your attendance is apparently ‘not optional’ according to your family.

But you’ll be damned if you show up to watch them tie the knot alone. Finding a date however, is more difficult than you think. Your male friends are either busy, taken, already going with somebody else or close enough with your ex that he’d know you were just bringing them along for show. Basically, you’re screwed. It’s not even that you want to prove that you can one-up him - it’s the pity he’ll give you. He thinks he ruined your life when he left (he didn’t) and that you’re still desperately pining for him (you’d rather throw yourself off a cliff than get back together with him).

It starts as a joke with a friend, you’re both a few wines deep, bemoaning your struggles when she suggests those Craigslist’s ads. “You know, the whole rent a boyfriend for a night thing, and then when you meet he’s actually kinda cute, and then you kiss him as part of the act but you both secretly want more and then you guys end up sleeping together and then-”

Ok, she’s clearly had one or two more than you, because that is definitely not how those stories go, but it does get you thinking. You’re not going to use Craigslist - you value your life and safety thank you very much - but there are sites out there that offer those... services.

Which is what leads you to Bokuto. The website seems reputable enough - at least for a boyfriend for hire kind of a deal, and the reviews don’t look too frightening. Actually, they’re glowing, and maybe that’s what gives you the final push to arrange a ‘consultation’ with the man.

“It’s an overnight thing,” you tell him over the FaceTime call, only for your eyes to widen and your cheeks burn as you realise what it sounds like you’re implying. “Not that I’m asking you for sex! I’m not, I know that’s against the rules, it’s just that-”

He cuts you off with a warm laugh, “Don’t worry about it. Overnight is fine, though we do charge extra for that.” You’d expected as much - at this point you value your pride more than you care about the small fortune you’re going to end up forking out for this whole thing. “Just tell me exactly what you’re wanting out of this, what you are and aren’t comfortable with, and then I guess we can start talking about how we met, come up with some meet cute story that’ll make everyone else super jealous.” He winks and your heart skips a beat.

The call that’s supposed to last twenty minutes goes on for almost an hour, but you feel strangely relieved when it’s done. Well, relieved and maybe even a little excited? Bokuto’s attractive and funny and he didn’t seem like a creep. It’s a ridiculously stupid idea, and you should probably be horrified that you’re even considering it, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

He arrives at your place on time, which you count as a win, looking particularly fine in a nice suit with a tie that compliments the colour of your dress (as you’d discussed). He’s somehow managed to reduce you to a blushing and stammering mess as you sign the paperwork - and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Relax, baby,” he says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. “I’m gonna take good care of you tonight, just follow my lead.” His smile is beaming, but there’s a flicker of unease at the affectionate gesture. You’d agreed that posing as a ‘couple’ meant you’d have a show a little bit of PDA, but you’d thought he’d at least wait until you were actually at the wedding to start...

But he’s probably just trying to ease you into it. It has to look natural between the two of you, right?

To say that your family are impressed in an understatement. He’s tall, fit and handsome, and there’s this kind of bright, shining exuberance that just seems to draw people in. He’s like a puppy, almost - a super friendly golden retriever desperate for cuddles, and it’s sweet. Dutifully he sticks by your side the entire time. A little too close, maybe - following you every time you go to get a top up of your drink or a bite more food, reaching out to take your hand in his, but you suppose he’s just playing his part.

And he’s more than aware of your ex, who seems mighty interested in your new boyfriend, particularly for a man on his wedding day. You’ve just finished the entree course when all of a sudden Bokuto grabs your chin and tilts you back into a kiss, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen it as you gasp in surprise. It only last for a moment, but when he pulls away there’s a distinctly satisfied look on his face. Your stomach twists into a knot, your cheeks warming under his heated gaze. You know that you said kissing was okay, inevitable at some point, but... it just took you a bit by surprise.

“What was that for?” you ask him quietly, trying not to frown as he toys idly with your fingers.

“Hm? Oh, your ex has been staring at us for the past five minutes. Figured I’d give him something to look at.”

It wasn’t a bad kiss by any stretch of imagination, but you can’t deny that it made you a little uncomfortable.

You know he’s only doing what you both agreed on, so you push down on those feeling and offer him a small smile and a nod, “Just, maybe warn me next time?”

He leans over and pecks your cheek, “Of course, baby.”

You choose to let the endearment slide.

It only gets worse as the night wears on. Bokuto’s reluctant to let you slip too far away. When your friends swarm to try and get you to come dance with them, Bokuto follows. He pouts when you ignore him in favour of dancing with the girls, and the very moment they turn their attention, he’s resting his chin on your shoulder, arms looping around your waist.

“Dance with me,” he whines, and you fight back a sigh.

He holds you close as you sway with the music, his broad hands resting just south of what’s considered appropriate, but you have to keep reminding yourself that he’s playing the role of your boyfriend, and if he really was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t be making such a fuss.

But when those hands start to wander, fingers grazing your sides, a hand dipping to rest on the curve of your ass, you have to put a stop to it. You don’t want to cause a scene, not when you can feel the eyes of the groom burning a hole in your back, but this doesn’t feel right anymore. He’s not exactly breaking any of the rules you set out, but there’s clearly been some miscommunication, because this is pushing right past your boundaries. “I just need some air,” you tell him with a tight smile, prying his arms off of you so you can make a hasty escape.

It’s both a blessing and a curse that you’ve booked a room in the hotel. You’re not relying on him to get you home, but there is absolutely no way in hell that you’re feeling comfortable enough to spend the night with him in the rooms you’ve booked - adjoining or not. It’s not his fault, you rationalise as you wait for the elevator, key in hand. Maybe this is how all of his engagements go - but fake boyfriend or not, he’s still a stranger, and this whole night has been too much.

You figure that you’ll slip away now, call an Uber back into town. There has to be a bus or something you can catch the rest of the way back home, even at this time of the night. You’ll text him once you’re on your way, letting him know that he’s welcome to the room (both of them, if he wants - they’re already paid for) and that he can expect the rest of his payment tomorrow as agreed. This was a bad idea, but you’re not going to be a bitch about it. You just want it over and done with.

You’re halfway through changing out of your dress when there’s an insistent knocking at your door. It must be your mother, you figure, or maybe one of your friends who saw you all but flee the dance floor downstairs, so you hastily re-do the zipper and try and right yourself before answering the door.

A pair of hooded, golden eyes greet you. Bokuto is grinning lazily, leaning up against the doorway with an arm braced against the frame, boxing you in. You hadn’t realised earlier just how big he really was - not just tall, but muscular - he dwarfs you without even trying.

He barges into the room before you can even try to protest, kicking the door firmly shut behind him.

“If you wanted to ditch so bad, baby, all ya had to do was say so.”

[phoenixtakaramono]

So I'm here to say that I really love your Bingyuan fic! The research you do for it and share with us is just amazing! I also have a q regarding LBG. From SV we know that he felt admiration for his Shizun so do you think that if SJ wasn't cruel to him LBG's admiration would've grown into love and attraction like it did in LBH's case for SY? Which then also raises a question: would LBH/LBG fall in love with any Shizun who was kind to him? Or was he just drawn to SJ's type of personality. WDYT?

Hi there, Anon! I’m glad you’re liking the Untold Tale! Thanks for reading! I think it lowkey helps when the story I’m writing (in general) is from a culture I’m familiar with and that I know some of its language nuances (just general Mainland dialect; I’m unfamiliar with Shanghainese, the Beijing dialect, etc etc). So fortunately for me, as someone who is Chinese but was born in the Western side of the world speaking Mandarin to family and friends, emulating the Chinese aesthetic and atmosphere in TUT comes a little bit easier to me than someone who did not grow up with this culture. I bet if I had been raised in China, I would be able to write something even more multilayered and deep but, alas, the youthful rebellious me of the past hadn’t taken my pinyin and Chinese character writing lessons seriously so I can only communicate verbally and understand audibly 😫. It’s very special for us writers in fandoms to be able to write a story of a culture that we actually know and can identify with. But high key it’s been immensely fun injecting some references of things I’ve come to notice from watching period C-dramas and the C-novels I’ve read, and I’ve come to learn interesting things about Chinese history and mythology even I didn’t know! So the story really writes itself.

Shen Jiu (OG!Shen Qingqiu)

To answer your question 🤔, to be honest this is why the SVSSS fandom is great—because there’s so many interpretations of the original source material. That’s why we have our headcanons and fanfictions to explore these many different possibilities. So for me personally, I can see it happening both ways: *1) LBG does develop a crush/falls in love with SJ, or 2) no matter how SJ treats him LBG regards him respectfully or coldly. I think Possibility 1 is more likely, since SY transmigrated into SQQ and we saw what happened with “Bunhe.”

Now, mind, for Possibility 1 to be more likely to happen, the SJ in PIDW will have to undergo a massive personality change/ a change of heart/ develop a good conscience and will need to clean up his image aka clear up the massive misunderstandings from PIDW canon (like him being mistaken as a pervert for Ning Yingying, visiting whorehouses, killing LQG, etc). It’ll be difficult though considering who Airplane has changed SJ into for his stallion harem novel (reading through SVSSS, my impression of PIDW besides it being the harem stallion novel is that it sounds similar to a “dog blood plot,” where audiences tune in to see how the villains are brought to justice). I literally have a line from TUT in a future chapter where SY says this about SJ since I will resurrect SJ and bring him into the story for closure:

People like Shen Qingqiu naturally had a set of deeply-rooted values. If one wanted to change them, it’d be easier to just have them reincarnate. (—TUT, ch???)

At his core, he’s a flawed man (which makes sense with the underlying cycle of abuse theory, considering his upbringing and backstory). He’s jealous and petty and prickly. His image is that of a proud and cold immortal. In Chinese terms, he’s the type of character archtype who I can see being àojiāo (definitely not canon characterization; this is just a stray thought that amuses me) in a romantic relationship.

LBH will have to recognize that^, or be in a position where he finds SJ’s caustic side endearing instead. He will also have to be extremely patient with him (although, since the joke in SVSSS is that LBH is an incurable M, it shouldn’t be that hard).

A fun thing about OG!SQQ is that he’s the cannon fodder scumbag villain of PIDW. He’s the reason LBG blackened from a white lotus. And, as you know, villains aka antagonists aka bad boys resonate strongly with people for a reason. That’s why we see a lot of Enemies to Lovers tropes, etc. It squicks me to use this phrase but “the allure of dating a ‘bad boy’ is strong.” SJ is that type of bad boy we could identify as a “fixer-upper project” (ugh, that phrase)—even with the red flags and warning signs—especially for those said to have a troubled past with rejecting neglectful parental figures/ family members/ friends and have have not outgrown their wish to convert that sort of person into a loving, accepting person. When we want something we can’t or shouldn’t have, our desire for it grows exponentially. In fanfiction this is a concept writers and readers can explore safely in a world of the imaginary.

From a Meta Perspective

Although, if we look at it meta-ly, the cold and proud and/or knowledgeable Shizun (teacher/ master) character who comes to know love and “is redeemed” by whomever is the love interest (typically a cute and quirky girl who may or may not have started off as naive to the innerworkings of the Cultivation World and therefore needs an established and mature mentor to guide them) is a very well-known archetype for a reason in Chinese fan culture.

Seeing a terrible person change their ways and try to become a better person because of the influence of the one they love is also a popular depiction for a reason.

It’s almost like gap moe. The crueler and aloof one starts out as (arrogance is a staple), the more impactful the shift is when we see such characters soften their edges.

The draw of the sacred master/disciple relationship is that it’s taboo, so I think it’s fair to say that such a relationship in fiction is a popular trope precisely because of this aspect. From a writer’s perspective, the main appeal is to show that there is someone out there who can cause this respectful figure to lose control (undergo emotional change) and go to great lengths to protect his/her precious person. That precious person also has to fall into the “not like other girls” trope (so they can show the ML a different world he would not have seen the beauty of before). On the other side, we look forward to the point of the story where the love interest has their “Oh” moment and realizes their admiration has somehow shifted into love and attraction over the course of events.

Other Romantic Possibilities

It’s very likely. I personally like the fanon headcanon where anyone with Heavenly Demon blood running through their veins feels a compulsion to “obsessively fixate on one person” (TLJ —> SXY, LBH —> SQQ). Personally I don’t recall if this was canon or fanon, but someone had written something about LBH imprinting on one person in his lifetime on the account of his demon nature. And I like that theory (I think it’s likely more fanon than anything but it’s an intriguing idea full of possibilities!).

For him to fixate romantically on one person, I personally don’t think the prerequisite is just by being kind to LBH (but it probably adds to the person’s appeal). There’s probably other factors that go into this to capture the male protagonist’s eye, such as him finding someone attractive (or passes his own personal standards) and/or having good chemistry with that person. So I could see him being into other Shizuns and whomever else. Personally I also think there is appeal in the unobtainable. It’s one thing to have someone’s affection (see LBG and his harem of 600 wives who definitely aren’t shy about giving him affection), but it’s another to know you’ve earned the affections of someone you really like and respect (especially if it’s someone thought to be unobtainable).

As long as the writer can provide a plausible justification for me to suspend disbelief and they set up events to justify it, I can swallow just about any ship possibility. It doesn’t necessarily have to be SJ’s type of personality. (For example, I read a very good fanfiction before where the writer paired Luo Binghe with Ming Fan. Ming Fan, people!!! And they actually pulled it off! What a madlad! Mind, it’s Shen Yuan who had transmigrated into MF in that premise, but the writer set up events that showed how these two characters came to bond and develop a deep friendship which inevitably had LBH developing a crush on his shixiong. I use this as an example because this is the type of unexpected (crack)ship, but because the writer did their work trying to make it seem plausible, we can only admire their hard work and effort at pulling it off.)

As the saying goes, there are plenty of fishes in the sea! As the protagonist, LBH/LBG can have many OTP possibilities with just about anyone as long as the writer can make it plausible. It’s all about the character development and the story/ central themes they wish to tell with the ship!

(Note, these really aren’t hot takes, lol. I’m just having fun answering to this casually from the perspective of a writer. Thank you for your Ask, anon!)

[mitamicah]

Spoilers from both Trollhunters the book and Trollhunters the series!

While reading the book I was really impressed with how many differences there were between the character so I have worked on giving my take on six characters from both media, book vs series, and how they differ from each other :3 

I should mention that while there was illustrations in the book I tried for the challenge not to copy those but follow along the describtions in the book - when possible - to give my own interpretation of the characters ^v^ 

Steve

First up we have Steve. Starting out as the stereotypical bully in both version their paths seperates quickly resulting in two different ending for the musuclar blond Jorgensen-Warner is the book version of Steve. Here's how he is described from our first encounter with him: "He was handsome but in the oddest way- He eyes were too small and his nose piggish: he had a ridiculous amount of hair and a couple of teeth that looked like fangs. Yet somehow in combination these features were sort of mesmerising. His unnatural muscular bulk and odd way of speaking -crisply, politely, as if he were a foreign student who had learned English in class - completed the strange package." page 21-22 For his outfit I went with the description of him on page 224 "[my clothes] ... didn't cast me in the best light when compared to Steve Jorgensen-Warner, who looked rather rakish in blue jeans and a shirt - definitely not a blouse - opened to the third button. He dribbled the ball casually with his left hand." The bold passages is added by me   This Steve is later revealed to be a changeling aka a troll   Before we go on: can any of you explain to me what a "ridiculous amount of hair" even means :'D? I had a lot of trouble with this prompt because isn't this so darn subjective :'D? and the official art look way less ridiculous than I'd figure it'll be :'D x'D Palchuk is the series version of Steve. His facial appearance being way less specific (I'd say he has normal sized eyes, a big roman nose and some more or less normal teeth) and his way of speaking is definitely not polite. Like book Steve, this Steve starts out with pushing smaller guys into lockerrooms yet after that he becomes way less of a terrifying bully and much more of a silly goose who brings a lot of the comic relief in my opinion Douxie says it best in Wizards when he calls Steve the "village idiot" x'D I do not recall seeing Steve being that sporty in the show, he is much more interested in becoming homecoming king  no basketballs around x'D While book Steve is revealed to be the enemy (a troll) series Steve joins the "good guys" creating the creepslayerz with the character Eli Pepperjack

Blinky

Blinky is just called Blinky in the book  Here's a bit of description of him "The third [troll] had scarlet eyes, eight of them on long stems. (...) The thing from my house glided toward me with a surprising grace for something with an indetermined number of legs, all of which were hidden behind a patched kilt scaled with layers of medals, prizes and trophies and award ribbons. An incalculable tangle of tentacles twined around one another as if dying to squeese something to death. As it passed the oven, the firelight revealed olive-green skin, reptilian texture, and lacquer of slime lubricating its undulating appendages Its moth a horizontal gash.. " The bold passages is added by me   So yeah this Blinky is quite something :'D I stopped caring to draw tentacles after a while but overall this was silly but fun to draw  since his teeth later is described as big as traffic cones I believe he must be very tall :'D Also he's close to blind   Has a bit of a dirty mouth but in a very "read" way if it makes sense :'D cannot seem to stop calling Jim dimwitted and tiny and Tobias big :'D Blinky's full name in the series is Blinkus Galadrigal  he has six eyes instead of eight and they are all working just fine, thank you very much x'D His tons of tentacles and legs has been replaced by four arms and two legs and while he is still olive-green he is now made of tone like texture just like the other trolls  the kilt turned into shorts and he is quite a bit smaller now not even as tall as Jim  He still has this very academic way of speaking yet he is way nicer to Jim calling him "Master Jim" instead of "the short one" x'D

ARRRGH!!!

Book ARRGHHH!!!s full name is Johannah Mmmm ARRRGH!!! and she is a pretty big deal warrior among the trolls in the book - she's so badass in fact Blinky has decided to call her by her last name to honor her for her deeds for trollkind   Here's a qoute from the book describing her appearance   "The goliath emerged from the tunnel as comfortably as a dog from a doghouse, coarse black fur pouring into the chamber before I could make out any actual arms or legs (...) Even beneath the fur I could see loops of muscles flexing. (...) ARRRGH!!! was built like a gorilla but three times larger: Two arms, two legs, and, thankfully, just two eyes. Horns, curled like those of a ram (...) The thing's orange eyes cast about with animal perceptiveness, and it used its snout and sniffed. Its jaws fell open to reveal a purple, slavering mouth armed with haphazard daggers of teeth." Page 75-76 The bold passages is added by me   (Also worth mentioning: the qoute is from before the protagonist knows of ARRRGH!!!'s gender which is why he calls her an 'it') At other times in the story we learn that ARRRGH! has quite scarred arms and really wishes for better tooth hygeine; so much so that Tobias actually end up making her a brace out of chicken wire :'D Idk I find it quite adorable :'D Now unto the serie's ARRRGH!!! - first up he is male, his name is Arghaumont and he is famous for another reason than Johannah: he was a general of Gunmar but retreated from the war making him a traitor to his people yet a hero for the good trolls in the series. Series ARRRGH!!! is likewise built like a gorilla but made of stone and having a mane long and green like it is moss  his horns is way smaller and less curvy and his teeth hygeine is never brought up  also his face is way less dog like x'D 

Tobias 

Book Tobias' full name is Tobias M. Dershowitz yet he is going by 'Tubby' or 'Tub'. Here is a describtion of him from the book: "You could call Tobias Dershowitz chubby, if you were being cute, or husky if you were being diplomatic. The fact is he was fat, and that was only the beginning of his problems. His hair was a thick, orange, out-of-control hedge. His face spilled over with the kind of freckles that make kids like Tub look like overgrown toddlers. Worst of all were his braces, marvels of modern torment: whips of stainless steel crisscrossing each tooth seperately and lashed to a dozen silver fasteners. The braces clicked so much when he spoke, you expected sparks. At least he was tall..." page 27 The bold passages is added by me   The outfit I went with is described on page 259 like this: "He stood in the driveway decked out in his best approximation of a ninja: black tennis shoes, black sweatpants, a black hoodie, a belt made from a red curtain sash, and an oversize fanny pack holding his gear (...) It was unfortunate that the fanny pack was lime green..." To describe Tub is a bit difficult because sadly he is not much in the story as I'd liked - mostly he is being quite serious and let us know he is not happy by being sidelined not speaking troll nor being invited on hunts which I completely understand tbh :'D What I do find interesting is how Tub and series Jim has seem to have switched roles a little bit: In the series Jim is the one giving a speech about how he is insecure about his place in life and how he wants more - in the book this is Tub in more than one occassion: "We have to accept who we are. And before you ask, I'll tell you. We're nobody. We have no life. We have nothing to look forward to. We're not special. I just want it to go away. All of it. The stupid being scared. Doesn't it seem we've been scared forever?" page 37 "Jim, you're wrong. We were meant to do this. This is exactly what we've been waiting for. They've chosen us. Of all people! Us! (...) Jesus, Jim, take a look at my life! You know what I'm worth! To anyone? Zero! Nothing! I'm a fat loser and will always be a fat loser. Until this. This is like a present. Full of, man, I don't know. Hope?..." page 196 (talking about trollhunting here btw) Oh yeah and book Tobias gets this badass scene where he uses his dentist's tool to kill trolls I loved that   Now series Tobias is way different :'D first up his name is Tobias Domzalski and his nicknames are Toby and Tobes. He is way shorter and has more neat hair (what is it with the series neating up the hair :'D? x'D). He also seems way cheerier and pretty happy with his place in life more or less  Unlike Tub, Toby is in it from the start being an important player in the story   He doesn't have the same drive to be something more than he is as Tub has instead Toby is going with the flow starting out quite afraid of everything troll and ended up being as brave as the rest of the team *tbh Jim's scared out of his wits too so they mimic each other x'D* Where Tub has dentist tools Toby gets a badass hammer so I'll say its an upgrade  

Claire

First off we have Claire Fontaine, a foreign student from no other than Scotland with a taste for military clothing and liqourice   Here's how she's described in the book   "She tucked her long dark hair behind her ear and left ir with an adorable smudge of white dust. I thought she was beautiful, though she wasn't in the classic sense. The popular girl would say she wasn't skinny enough. They would also point to the fact that she didn't wear makeup or do anything to tame that hair. And her clothes -well, what could be said about her clothes? Her boots were not sexy and knee-high: in fact, they were ankle-high and rubber-soled and looked picked from military surplus racks, an array of pea-green coats and multi-coloured slacks, all of which looked as if they'd been through actual World War II combat. And that beret she wore before and after school wasn't of the look-at-me-I'm Frensh variety: it was more in the style of I'm-going-to-invade-your-country-and-be-your-new-dictator. Only one thing didn't make sense: that bright pink, exceedingly girlish backpack that inexplicably hadn't one anti-establidh patch sewn onto it (...) Oh, I forgot to mention that Claire Fontain came from the UK. That's right- the girl had an accent. I think you are starting to get the picture." page 30-1 The bold passages is added by me It is hinted at that Claire is quite tall and a great deal taller than Jim (more when I get to him) and she is actually a whole year older than Jim since they both have birthday May 2 but Claire is 16 while Jim is 15  Since Trollhunters in this story is not a "protected title" (aka the chosen hero type) Claire ends up being one herself even though nobody even herself didn't know: AND. SHE. KICKS. BUTT! She's even better than the guy that had 40+ years experience so yeah safe to say she's badass :'D Even before that she has a hilarious scene calling out Steve in the wildest shitstorm of Scottish slang I lived for it x'D She's described quite a few times with lots of bracelets, sometimes made of wire so I gave her a bit of both   She's not really a part of the popular group but has her own thing going on   Now onto Claire Nuñez the series' version of this badass   Here Claire is hispanic and pretty much one of the most popular girls seen around  her style is way more ... I've called it punk rock in purple but Idk exactly what to call it x'D she's shorter than Jim and slimmer looking than her book counterpart   She enters the story not as a trollhunter but as a victim of having her brother stolen by changelings and as time progresses she becomes a fastlearning and quite competent sorcerer dealing in shadow magic   Unlike Fontaine, Nuñes is seen wearing make up, shorter hair with dye in it and hair clips instead of bracelets  

Jim 

First up we have book Jim. His full name is James Sturges Jr. and lives with his single parent, his dad, after his mother went away the day before his birthday in start May and never returned. Sturges Sr. had been traumatized loosing his brother to trolls although none of the characters didn't know this yet - only Senior had seen the creatures making him paranoid and in turn making Jim very embarrased about his father. At the same time Jim seems to honestly worry for his father and his behavior too makes Jim very cautious and fearful a character. Book Jim is pretty much a typical teenager for the most part  He is seen to be a tad clumsy and not exactly brave really. And the author's choice of basically not describing him anywhere made my job way harder trying to be book accurate :'D So I've mostly inspired him of the official illustrations in the book   Here's what I could find about our little trollhunter   First off: he's a short fellow  that is first mentioned on page 14; "Sunshine is important for growing boys." (...) "I am not growing" I took after my dad when it came to size and was still waiting for that growth spurt everyone kept raving about. "In fact I think I'm shrinking." This is brought up most of everything Jim through the movie from him not being able to reach a point of a chalkboard (page 32) to people's dissapointing sighs taking meassurements when he is chosen as Romeo (107) and him wearing super high heels for the same reason (224) but also Blinky directly calling him a "little fellow" (page 127) On page 27 we learn that he is getting a bruise on his chin after being slammed into his locker by Steve  Lockers he has been thrown into enough to have learned to open them on the inside :'D He is a skinny fella which Tobias so politely call "lack of muscletone" due to "glandular" at page 120 He is not very good at anything describing his room full of stuff from hobbies he tried and failed at (page 63) The longest describtion about his appearance is probably page 105: "I lowered my eyes and regarded the chewed, dirty fingernails holding my script, thes scuffed shoes on my feet, and realized that these were the symbols of my pityful life: worn-out, insignificant, ready to be thrown beneath Dad's industrial mower" It pretty much says it all when this is the longest quite I could find :'D For the outfit I mostly went by the small describtion on page 89-90: "I tucked the medallion beneath my shirt. After a full day of wearing it, maybe the rest of the suffocating fear would go away too. My plan was to dart into the kitchen, grab my sweatshirt and be out of the house. " I added jeans since he is said to wear jeans on page 283 - the medallion sneak out beneath the sweatshirt/shirt on page 97 which is why I added it on top here as well   Now since there's a bit more to both versions of Jim due to their role as the protagonist I've added in a little extra features here being the medallion in the book vs the amulet in the series and the weaponry given to the characters   For Sturges we have the medallion who's described like this: "It was a bronze medallion conntected to a rusty chain. It was engraved with a foreboding crest: a hideous, snarling face; indecipherable markings of a sevage language, and a magnificent long-sword across the bottom." page 9 The medallion is treated like it is a common artefact if a bit rare in the book - its purpose is to translate trollspeak for the wearer. Jim is giving two swords in the book; a rusty longsword he calls Clairesword (do I need to explain this one?) and a cutlass he calls Cat #6 after the one cat at Tobias' house that liked Jim  x'D For Sturges' personality my feeling about him is that he is a bit more ... passive than his series counterpart. He is not really standing up for himself that much and would rather blend into the background. This qoute from Claire sums him up pretty nicely I believe   "You're a good person, Mr. Sturges. A bit gloomy, but good" page 246 I do like that Jim in this version is a Taurus  (I am a taurus too x'D) born on May 2nd so that's a plus   It is probably also worth mentioning that in this world trollhunters aren't a chosen hero type like in the series: trollhunters or paladin was once a title held by many warriors yet now there's very few left. Sturges was a proud paladin family making Jim a chosen candidate for the honor of becoming a trollhunter but he is not the only one - or even the best - in the book. In fact out of the three trollhunters we learn about I'll say Jim is the weakest (and he is not even the least trained; ouch :'D) Jim doesn't get a nice armour like his series counterpart either but is seen in the illustrations wearing a blue hoodie (like the one in the little doodle)   The full name of Jim in the series is James Lake Jr. He is the child of a single parent and lives with his mother whom Jim "mothers a lot" (Tobias' words in the first episode) This Jim is pretty "tall for his age" (Jim's own words uttered quite a few times across all three series) yet with quite skinny legs (he is called out for this by multiple characters). He is much more competent in life than his book counterpart being an exceptional cook, good at Spanish, seemingly alright in PE and at school he seems to stand pretty good if only holding himself back. Unlike book Jim, series Jim seems much more active and longing to be something more than he is - he is seen to be quite brave and protective of his friends, very kind and selfless. Also even from the start he seems much more nimble than his book counterpart being able to climb the robe (a feat book Jim didn't do before later) and with his training as trollhunter he becomes even more badass   Trollhunter status in the series is way more important since the title is given to only one chosen warrior of Merlin chosen by the amulet of daylight (the medallion in the book). This also makes the amulet way more special and important in the series which probably explains its shine up from rusty bronze thing to silver and blue. While Lake Jr doesn't have named sword he does have a magical armour and sword made of daylight   We do not know the exact birthday of Lake Jr but the creators have replied to a fanquestion saying it would be around fall especially October so by that estimate Jim is probably a scorpio  pretty far from the before mentioned taurus in the book   While Jim Lake Jr isn't seen with long lasting bruises in the original series he does get two more permanent scars in Wizards  

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 10 of 27: Dating

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 9

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR AMAZING FEEDBACK! I AM BEYOND GRATEFUL FOR EVERYONE WHO READS THIS STORY! This project has become so important to me and I have so much fun working on it! Thank you thank you thank you! Also - this chapter is a little shorter and more ‘calm’ at first. But be prepared, it’s still very important to everything that follows it!! <33 Enjoy!

Words: 3.1k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader Warnings: none

Two days after Hogsmeade …

Monday morning. You yawned and it turned into a chuckle when Malfoy mimicked you.

“It’s contagious,” he defended himself quietly to avoid attracting Professor Sprouts attention. He sat next to you, way back in the last row of the classroom. It had been your idea – after finding out that almost none of your friends believed your act, it seemed like a good idea to sit next to each other during classes. Maybe it would help convince them.

With a flick of her wand, Professor Sprout made an assignment appear on the blackboard. Nothing too difficult. You walked to the front to get the small flower you were supposed to work with and Ron glared at you from his seat. You ignored him.

Back at your table, Malfoy and you started working together quietly. When you looked at his notes, you leaned over a little too closely, feeling dizzy from the smell of his cologne. Whenever he reached for something, his hand brushed over yours. His comments were accompanied by smiles and direct eye contact. He played his part so well, you almost believed it. From the corners of your vision, you saw Ron staring.

You acted the same in every class that you shared. During breaks, you stayed together – always a few feet away from the others. You discovered how funny he could be when he gave you live-commentary of a fight happening between a Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

In the evening, you came back to your dorm, feeling unusually content. Not even the letter from the parents on your desk changed that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, your mother had written. I simply don’t understand and I am scared for you. I can’t lose you too.

“Oh, mum,” you whispered, rubbing your neck. Then you sat down and reached for a quill. She deserved the truth. At least, a little of it.

 ***

One week after Hogsmeade …

Draco was happy.

Well, maybe happy was a little exaggerated but he felt … calmer. He used to spend his free time by himself which gave him plenty of opportunities to think. About the war, his parents, himself – and it nearly killed him. The notebook was an escape, a good way to focus, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how many pages he filled, he still felt himself sliding away from his surroundings. Now he spent that time with you – and things began to change. In those few days he even stopped dreading getting out of bed because Draco had finally something to look forward to again: spending time with you.

Draco considered you his friend. A part of him had trouble with the realization since being around someone like you went against everything his parents taught him but he tried tirelessly to shut it off. No, you were his friend and being around you made him feel almost okay.

“What are you writing?”

The sound of your voice caused Draco to look up from his notebook. The two of you sat in the library. You were across from him, finishing up on some homework. Draco shrugged. What was he supposed to say? I’m writing about you? Certainly not.

“Can I read it at some point?”, you tilted your head in curiosity. You did that a lot, Draco noticed. It reminded him of a puppy.

Am I comparing her to a dog?, he scolded himself in the next second. No, he didn’t mean it like that. He meant to think that he thought it was cute when you did that. You … were cute.

“It’s okay,” you finally said with a smile when you sensed his hesitation. “It’s personal, I get it – or do you keep track of dirty dreams in it?” You teased him.

“Only of the dreams involving you,” he winked at you, causing you to snort. Despite the joke, Draco was relieved you didn’t dig any further.

From where he sat, he had a direct view of the huge door leading inside the library. This was the reason why he saw the Greengrass sisters walking in, their gaze immediately landing upon him. He casually reached over the table and softly began to draw circles on your soft skin with the tip of his finger. He smirked at your shiver.

“Ron?”, you asked, not looking up from your book.

“Astoria,” he replied.

A few minutes later, Astoria and Daphne left again. Draco didn’t pull his hand away.

 ***

Two weeks after Hogsmeade …

Snowflakes were dancing in the cold winter air as you sat on the bleachers with Malfoy. Down on the Quidditch field, the Slytherins were practicing under the strong rule of Zabini. Games were cancelled but they still needed to stay in shape.

“I never pictured you as an Auror,” Malfoy confessed. He had asked about your future plans just seconds before.

“Why?”, you wanted to know.

He thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I always thought you’d become … a healer. Or a teacher maybe.”

His words made you laugh. “Are you serious?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Well, no,” you shrugged. “I wanted to be an Auror since I was little girl. And I’ll make it, believe me.”

He raised his hands in a defensive manner. “I have no doubts about that. It simply surprised me.”

You chuckled another time at the thought of becoming a teacher. It had always been the furthest thing on your mind. You loved Hogwarts, it had been your home for years but you craved to see more from the world. Especially since the war happened. You didn’t want to spend your whole life in this castle.

“What do you want to do?”, you then asked, curious as to what his answer might be. It was hard for you to picture him outside of school.

Malfoy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It surprised you. “Really?”, you wondered. “Pureblood families like yours normally have a plan set up for their kids, don’t they?”

“Normally,” he laughed bitterly. “My father wanted me to follow his footsteps and get some high-ranking job in the Ministry. That’s not an option anymore. For obvious reasons.”

He was probably right. The wounds were still too fresh. The chances for a former Death Eater to be employed in the Ministry of Magic were slim.

You stayed on the bleachers for hours. It had only been a little over two weeks since the Halloween party and yet you had become a lot closer to Malfoy than you expected. You felt comfortable talking to him. Both of you had very different childhoods and friends – you came from different worlds. However, it was precisely this fact that made it easy to talk to each other. You were almost certain that he felt the same.

 ***

Three weeks after Hogsmeade …

Draco watched you flick through the pages of a magazine and for the first time since that night in the storage room, he saw you. And by Merlin, how beautiful you were.

He sat on the couch in the Room of Requirements with you, listening to the flames crackling in the small fireplace in front of him. You were laying down on your back, head propped up against the armrest, a small wrinkle on your forehead as you read the descriptions in the magazine. Your legs were stretched out and on his lap. Draco wondered why – no one would be around to see you anyways.

“Stop staring, Malfoy, it’s creepy,” you giggled.

Draco blinked as he snapped back into reality. “I’m not staring, I’m thinking, Y/L/N.”

“Think without staring at me.”

Easier said than done.

Draco cleared his throat. “What are you looking at anyways?”

“Christmas presents for my parents. But,” you clicked your tongue, “I can’t find anything good.”

Draco grabbed your legs and lifted them slightly while moving over closer to you. “Let me see. I’m awesome at getting gifts.”

 ***

Four weeks after Hogsmeade …

When December arrived, Hogwarts felt like home again. A cheerful atmosphere filled the castle, accompanied by snowball fights outside and hot chocolates in the common rooms. As if a spell was lifted, something changed within the students and parents alike.

You happily noticed how Ginny needed less and less of her sleeping medicine. The nightmares slowly faded, being replaced by happier memories. The letters from your mother barely mentioned your sister anymore. Instead, she talked about carriage rides in the snow with your father and her plans for Christmas dinner. For the first time in a while, you looked forward to going home.

You wondered if it was the same for Draco. When they put up the Christmas tree in the Great Hall, he got even more quiet than usual. It planted an idea inside your head and on that same day, you wrote a letter to your parents, asking them if he could spend the holidays with them. They agreed. It came to no surprise to you; your mother was eager to meet him and see if her prejudices and fears would be proven right.

“I don’t want to impose,” Draco said with a stern voice when you told him after dinner.

“You’re not! I asked them and they want to meet you. Come on,” you insisted.

He watched you with uncertainty and furrowed brows. “I don’t know. I can’t –”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”, you interrupted him.

Draco looked away at the question; that same expression of bitterness on his face that you’d seen too often for your own liking.

“I thought so,” you said softly. “Please, Draco, come with me.”

He sighed and wiped his hands over his eyes. “Why would they even want to meet me?”

You smiled widely. “You’re my boyfriend.” Never would you have thought it would sound normal to say that.

“Yes, but –”, he lowered his voice, “– but not really.”

True. For a weird reason, it stung a little to be reminded by him. “I am your friend though, aren’t I?”

He blinked at the word ‘friend’ and you wondered if he felt differently about it. Then he nodded.

“Awesome!”, you exclaimed, shooing away your worries. “Then it’s settled. Christmas at my place.”

In that moment, Harry and Ron walked passed you. Ron didn’t even glance at you. How weird, you wondered, this was the first time in days that you thought about him.

 ***

Five weeks after Hogsmeade …

 My dearest Draco,

I am delighted to hear that Y/N’s family invited you for Christmas. They are very kind to do so. Please remember to bring a little housewarming gift. Although it hurts me to be away from you this Christmas, I do believe it’s a better option for you than visiting your grandparents with me. I’m sure the holidays will be spent in a rather somber spirit this year as your father will be unable to join us. I want you to have at least a little fun and am looking forward to your stories.

Lots of love, your Mother

P.S.: I met with Mrs. Greengrass yesterday. She is not upset and gave me her word to wait until you are ready.

Draco shook his head in amusement when he finished reading the letter. Only his mother could wish him a nice time with his (fake) girlfriend and then continue with ‘if you’re done having fun, your fiancée is still available’.

“That’s why pureblood traditions are fucked up,” was something you would say right now. But you weren’t here. You were practicing for the first Quidditch game in the new year and Draco sat in his dorm, waiting for Blaise to get ready.

Reading the letter a second time, he started to wonder. Why would Mrs. Greengrass wait? Why did their family want this union so desperately? The questions were lingering on his mind ever since you brought them up months ago. He failed to come up with an answer to this day.

“Please don’t tell me that’s a letter to Y/N,” Blaise announced when he stepped out of the bathroom.

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s from my mother, idiot.”

“Good,” his friend sighed dramatically. “Because I rarely get to see you now that you have her. No need for you to start writing love letters when she’s not around.”

Even though his nagging slightly annoyed Draco, he realized something in this moment: it had worked. The whole PDA and ‘being-more-affective-in-public’- thing worked. It had been almost two weeks since Theo or Blaise (or even Astoria) tried to get him to confess that they were faking it. His friends started to believe them.

“Yeah, whatever,” Draco gave a dismissive wave of his hand and put the letter away. “Maybe I just don’t want to see you, Zabini, and it has nothing to do with Y/N.”

Blaise laughed. “No, you love me too much. Now, let’s go. Theo’s waiting for us.”

 ***

Six weeks after Hogsmeade …

A loud shriek echoed through the classroom and you almost dropped the container of cat teeth on the floor. Parkinson jumped up and down, trying to get a slimy violet mass shaken off her leg. It didn’t budge and made its way up her pants, accompanied by absolutely disgusting slurping and smacking sounds. You tried hard to suppress a laugh but when you saw the way Harry grinned behind her, you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling.

Professor Slughorn hurried over and quickly cast a spell. The mass fell down to the floor and stopped moving. “Oh well, Ms. Parkinson,” he quickly glanced inside her cauldron. “It’s important to add the cat teeth before the mandrake juice.” Then he knelt down in front of her, inspecting her pants. “It looks like nothing got on your skin. If I am mistaken, please go and see Madame Pomfrey. It can leave nasty burns behind.”

The Slytherin girl nodded, still in shock.

“What happened?”, Draco joined you at your table. He had gone to the backroom, to gather missing ingredients.

“Parkinson got attacked by her potion,” you sneered while counting the cat teeth. “It was hilarious.”

“I bet,” he grinned, before skimming over the instructions again.

“I think I need to go and see Madame Pomfrey,” Parkinson whined behind you. “It got through the fabric of my pants.”

As if, you thought and rolled your eyes.

“Please go,” you heard Slughorn say. “Better not take any chances. Interestingly, this modified form of the potion has been used in the past. They removed foreign magical particles with it, such as certain marks that resulted from dark spells. It is very aggressive though and since then, the healers have invented different potions. However, when it touches your normal skin, it only leaves burns and scars. Please, Ms. Parkinson, please go. Mr. Nott, you can accompany her.”

“Huh,” Draco made next to you. “What did she do wrong again?”

You sighed when you saw that you had miscounted the teeth. Damnit.

“Y/N?”

“What?”, you looked at him.

Draco stared at the liquid inside the cauldron, a blank expression on his face. “What did Pansy do wrong?”

“She put in the mandrake juice before the cat teeth.” You frowned. “Why?”

“No reason.”

 ***

That same day …

It was late when you returned from Quidditch practice; tired and sweaty. All you craved was a shower and then your bed. Playing that sport in your free time was one thing but practicing under Ginny as Captain? You were glad that you didn’t die yet.

“Y/L/N!”

Someone shouted your name as you walked inside the castle.

“Y/L/N!”

Irritated, you turned around, trying to make out the person that voice belonged to.

“Y/L/N, here!” Theodore Nott sprinted down the stairs, coming from the direction of the Gryffindor common room. “Fuck, we looked everywhere for you!”, he cursed, completely out of breath, when he finally reached you.

“We?”, you asked with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

You then noticed the fear in his eyes. He gripped so tightly onto the stair railings that his knuckles turned white and his whole body was trembling. Panic began to dwell up inside of you. Draco.

“It’s Draco, something happened,” he panted. “You have to come, please!”

Your blood froze. “What’s going on?!”, your voice turned shrill but he ran down the stairs again.

“Come!”, he shouted. “Now!”

The two of you sprinted down stairs and hallways, passing confused classmates on the way. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you repeated the same sentence over and over again in your head: Something happened to Draco. The thought of it was unbearable and it hit you like a brick wall, making it hard to breathe. Please, no. Not him.

When you reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Theodore turned to you abruptly. He grabbed you by your shoulders. “Act normal,” he hissed. “Walk slowly. They don’t need to know.”

You nodded absently. Your hands were clam and you tried to calm down your breathing.

“Okay,” he didn’t seem convinced that you understood him. Then he mumbled the password and the door opened.

Under normal circumstances, you would have stopped in the middle of the room, looking around in awe. You’d never been here before; it was a mystery to you. But now, you only briefly glanced at the green and black furniture. There weren’t many students around. The ones that saw you, stared at your red Quidditch robes.

“What the fuck?”, someone said loudly. “What’s she doing here?!”

Nott ignored them, leading you quickly to the stairs that must have led up to the dorms. You noticed the windows on the way up and gasped when you realized that you didn’t look at the fields of Hogwarts. You were under the Black Lake.

“Finally,” Zabini exclaimed. He had waited in front of a door, looking just as shaken up as Nott. “You found her.”

“What’s going on?”, you asked for the third time now. “Where is he?”, your voice trembled a little.

“In here,” Nott pointed at the room. “In the bathroom. He locked himself in.”

“He wouldn’t let us in and asked for you,” Zabini continued with a quiet voice, fidgeting with his hands. “It’s … you’ll see. Just go in and help him.” He paused briefly. “Please.”

You nodded and reached for the door handle. Three deep breaths. One … two … three.

You pushed open the door and stepped in, closing it softly behind you. Looking around, everything looked perfectly ordinary. Three beds, three wardrobes, a table. Your gaze wandered over to the door that lead into the bathroom. Then you heard it – a sob. And another one. Someone was crying. He was crying. Your heart broke at the sound.

“Draco?”

 ***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! <33 Also: did you notice Y/N stopped calling him “Malfoy” halfway through the chapter and switched to “Draco”? 

CHAPTER 11

“Choose Me Instead” Masterlist HP Masterlist

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[nightshade-minho]

-Sleep? What’s that?-

Warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, master kink, praise, breeding kink, mentions of cheating, light exhibitionism, roommates au. jisung makes an appearance.

Word Count: 1.7k

Seungmin couldn't take one more second of this torture.

This was the fourth consecutive night where he lay awake, your moans gracing his ears and leaving him with blue balls.

It wasn't like you were being very loud...the walls were a little too thin in this apartment ever since he'd moved in. Even his headphones couldn't quite mask the sound of your moans right. He tossed and turned in bed, the fact that this was going to be yet another sleepless night making him grumble in frustration.

Usually, after you masturbated, you'd turn right around and go to sleep. However, a room away, Seungmin found it terribly difficult to fall asleep...the raging boner he was usually left with made sure of that. In the mornings, he'd always consider bringing it up...he prided himself in his straightforwardness, but somehow when it came to you, all that was thrown out of the window.

It didn't help that you looked especially cute in the mornings...all messy hair and blushy cheeks, clad in your soft pyjamas and bunny slippers.

He sighed, covering his ears. At that very moment, you let out a whimper that sounded so heavenly, that Seungmin just couldn't take it anymore.

He threw the covers off, standing up and walking over to your room quickly.

He threw the door open. You screamed as you scrambled to cover yourself with the blankets, pulling your fingers out of your pussy.

"Seungmin, what the fu-"

"Shhh." He said irritably. "It's 2:30. Let's not wake all the neighbours up."

You sputtered in disbelief, clearing your throat. "I...um, please don't barge into my room like that...you woke me up so suddenl-"

"Cut the bullshit. I know what you're doing in here, Y/n. In fact, I've known for the past four days. Either stop, or choose another time to do it. One that doesn't prevent me from getting my valuable hours of sleep."

"I..." your cheeks heated up, as you adjusted the covers. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You're like a 13 year old girl who discovered how to touch herself for the first time. It's all you've been doing."

You felt the embarrassment heat up your cheeks as you finally looked up at him.

Wait.

Your eyes landed on the bulge in his sweatpants, making you let out a loud gasp. Was that a boner?

Seungmin flinched at the sound, following your gaze to his pants. He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic about it. When you're forced to be exposed to someone's moans for hours on end, this is what happens."

You rubbed at your flushed cheeks, unable to believe that this was actually happening.

Somehow, though...the embarrassment and humiliation you were feeling was slowly drifting into arousal as he continued glaring at you. You opened your mouth and then closed it, wondering if you should just say it.

"What? Spit it out."

You remained silent. Slowly you moved the blankets off of you, Seungmin raising an eyebrow as you did so.

"Wow. You've gotten bold."

His eyes slowly travelled from your face to your soaking pussy, bared to him. Unable to hide the small groan under his breath, Seungmin decided to throw all caution to the wind as he climbed onto the bed.

"What do you want, hm, princess? Don't you think this is a little too slutty, even for you?" He chuckled. As another second of silence passed, Seungmin's smile slowly disappeared.

"I can't read your mind, slut. Speak up, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Your eyes widened. "Um, I'm sorry. I...I want you."

"You do, huh? How exactly do you want me?"

"In any way. Please, I just feel so sexually frustrated and I haven't had a good orgasm in months." You whine, pouting at him.

"Fine. All you want is an orgasm, right? I'll help you get yourself off. Acting like a fucking bitch in heat." He mumbled under his breath, moving further up your bed before grabbing you, pulling you onto his lap.

You looked down at him, the arousal making your whole body feel hot. You couldn't believe you were going to fuck your roommate. It felt a little wrong, but to be honest, you didn't really care.

His eyes slowly travelled from your face to your pussy, narrowing as he felt your wetness soak through the material of his sweatpants.

"Fuck, you're a little whore, aren't you?"

You sighed softly as he grabbed your hips, forcing you to grind down on him. He groaned under his breath at the feeling, lifting you up slightly to pull down his sweatpants.

You gulped as you noticed he wasn't wearing any underwear, letting out a small squeal as he pulled you down, letting the head of his cock brush up against your folds.

"We don't even need any foreplay, do we? That little wet cunt is dripping and ready for my cock~"

You nodded desperately, swallowing as he smirked, his grip on your waist becoming rougher as he slammed you down onto him suddenly, a guttural moan escaping you at the action.

The sudden intrusion rendered you speechless as you gripped his shoulders, your eyes clenching shut. His gaze softened a little as he observed your expression.

"Aww, looks like the little baby isn't used to being stuffed with cock like this? That's okay, darling." His grip on you tightened as he stood up suddenly, taking you over to your window and pressing you up against it. "From now on, you're my little whore and I'm going to teach you just how to be a good cocksleeve for your master, okay?"

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he started thrusting into you, lips attaching to your neck. The moonlight washing over his face made him look so ethereal. He couldn't possibly be human. As his thrusts grew sharper, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, but you knew you had to. You wished you could stare at his beautiful face forever.

"Can't speak, darling?" He cooed, lips trailing down from your neck to your collarbone. He pulled down a strand of your top and started marking you up, leaving soon-to-be bruises all over your chest.

"That's alright. I know I'm fucking you dumb." He pouted at you, fake sympathy filling his face. "It's alright."

He looked down at the spot where you were connected, the sight of your pussy sucking in his cock drawing a grunt out of him. "Fuck...you're a good girl, aren't you? Taking in my cock so well."

The validation was all you craved. You mewled softly, your eyes big and needy as you clenched around his length, letting him know you were close. His hips stuttered as he realized he was nearing his high.

Seungmin narrowed his eyes suddenly as he looked past you. He brought his hand up to grab your cheek, moving it to the side and forcing you to look outside.

"Isn't that the dude you were seeing? Why's he here?"

Your eyes widened as you saw the figure holding a bouquet in his hands, dawdling about in front of your building. Jisung.

"Fuck- I broke up with him ages ago when he cheated on me. Why's he- oh fuck, Seungmin, right there-"

"Shh." He placed a finger on your mouth to silence you. "I'm your master now, baby. And listen to me..." He frowned as he recalled all the times Jisung had been a dick to you, cheating on you multiple times and being a general ass. Yet you always went back to him, falling for his feeble apologies. Not this time. Seungmin was tired of watching from the sidelines. He couldn't let you get your heart broken again.

"...you're not getting back together with him. You need to show this dick that you're over him, once and for all." He growled, watching as the man below entered the building.

"Seu- I mean, M-master..." You whined as he hit your sweet spot repeatedly. " We should stop- he's going to be here any second now- fuck!" You cried out as his cock relentlessly abused your pussy, making you moan incoherently.

Seungmin's ears perked up as he heard the doorbell ring, a smirk growing on his face. "Ah, finally. Now baby, what do you say to getting rid of that bastard once and for all?"

You couldn't respond, letting out a breathless whimper as Seungmin peeled you away from the window, still fucking up into you as he walked through your apartment to the front door. You didn't have the strength to protest anymore, your face buried in his shoulder as your ears registered the sound of him opening the door.

Seungmin found himself relishing the pure shock on Jisung's face. Fuck, he wanted to take a picture of his expression. This was what the asshole deserved.

"Sorry, Han. Get it through your thick-headed skull- she deserves better than you."

Seungmin aimed a particularly rough thrust right at your sweet spot at that very moment, and you keened, your orgasm washing over you so suddenly and solidly, you were almost blown away. The man let out a groan at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, his own high approaching rapidly.

"I think it's safe to say her taste in men has evolved." Seungmin said apologetically, slamming the door on Jisung's shell shocked face.

He pressed you up against the door, pounding into you as he chased his orgasm.

"Ah...I'm going to cum in you sweetheart- fuck, my good little princess, aren't you?"

You nodded slightly, your body weak. You could barely formulate a thought, let alone a sentence as Seungmin rammed into you, his cock feeling like heaven itself.

"That's right. And you'll always be my baby, my angel...shit- I’m going to fill you up with my cum. Maybe you’ll have my babies. How does that sound?" Seungmin hissed as he stared at your fucked out face, falling over the edge as he came, painting your walls white.

He collapsed against you, slowly dragging the two of you down to the floor in exhaustion.

You opened your mouth, a million words resting on the tip of your tongue as you stared at Seungmin, his breathing rough as he came down from his high. His fingers brushed against your entrance as he pulled out, pushing his cum back into you. “Now, now. Wouldn’t want to waste any of it...” He mumbled, lifting his finger to your mouth for you to suck. His gaze was soft as he gathered you close to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he shushed you.

"You don't have to talk now, baby, it's fine." He stood up shakily, taking you to his room and laying you on the bed. He got in with you and spooned you, kissing the crook of your neck.

"You're mine, from now on." He whispered, stroking your skin as he nuzzled closer.

"Only mine."

[shotofire]

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

•Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

-

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were  interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.



[whitherliliesbloom]

You follow the scent trail of sweet flowers...until you bump into a mysterious bijou girl with starspun hair and lustrous lavender eyes. Mysterious girl far from home: “O-oh- I’m sorry... The way you’re looking at me as if you want to d-duel... W-well, i-if you in-insist..”

@windupnamazu​‘s Pokemon!AU Illya headcanons under the cut! It’s very long, so hang tight! Note the headcanons may be subject to change or updates in the future ;w; Drawings and designs of Illya’s outfits by @rosepinkwol​.

Illya’s personality is about similar with her ffxiv canon verse. Shy, reserved, very sweet and gentle. But she’s considerably more cheerful in her pokemon au form and less emotionally volatile / depressed. She still does have some lingering emotional and mental health issues though, which will be covered later. 

She became a pokemon trainer primarily to explore the world and meet more pokemon. Dueling and beating others isn’t a real priority for her, though she still does it to earn money. 

While Illya bets pokemon dollars in normal battles with trainers she is unfamiliar with or in official tournaments, she doesn’t like gambling real money when battling with friends. Instead, she’d often suggest that the loser has to treat the winner to a meal.

Extremely good cook. You’ll never go hungry or be unsatisfied in the tummy if you go camping with her. Just don’t mention that you like spicy foods or she’ll almost always assume that you’d be able to handle the same level of spice as she does (pro-tip: you probably can’t). 

She smells like the most gorgeous mix of flowers - no thanks to her Comfey often playing with her hair and wrapping flowers around her. 

She takes pokemon welfare very seriously due to her upbringing and background. She thus has a habit of releasing pokemon she captured that she feels would either be happier out in the wild or are showing signs of stress in her care. That seldom happens though, due to how loving and caring she is towards all her pokemon - most of them end up becoming very attached and even protective of her.

In the same way, she never forces a pokemon to battle, evolve or do anything they don’t want to, even if they are strong. 

Illya knows a lot about pokemon care and the likes / dislikes / proper way to take care of different types of pokemon. Thus, she makes friends with pokemon a lot easier than she does humans.

The very definition of ‘gotta catch em all!’..... but only if the pokemon wants to be with her. She loves all pokemon, regardless of her personal tastes and will treat any pokemon she comes across with respect and care as long as they mean no harm to her. 

Knows basic first aid for both humans and pokemon. And much like in canon, her pain tolerance is incredibly high.

She’s very particular about money. Short-change her, and she’ll be very very cross. After all, less money means less treats she can buy for her pokemon. 

In general, she’s dainty and graceful... however she is a tad more clumsy in her pokemon au form compared to canon. 

Illya is the definition of gap moe: her sweet, cute and angelic demeanor causes a lot of people to underestimate her. When they challenge her to a battle, they are later shocked by just how ferocious and skilled she is as a trainer. 

Illya has become quite famous everywhere she travels - owing to her infectiously sweet, genuine and kind nature contrasting her ferocity and skill in pokemon battles. 

She’s extremely intelligent, observant and intuitive. She often stays on the defensive for long periods of time before she works out a strategy or her opponent pokemon’s weak points before going in for the (metaphorical) kill. Reckless trainers who don’t plan accordingly are the quickest to lose to her. 

She WILL order her pokemon to use stun debuffs on your pokemon (sleep, charm etc). And she won’t apologize for it.... until the battle is over. 

As stated, since Illya doesn’t especially care about dueling or becoming known as the best pokemon trainer, she often doesn’t see the need to challenge gym leaders to duels unless her friends urge her to, or if beating a gym leader is required for her to be able to advance in her journey. 

Illya’s an extremely good sport. She’ll congratulate you wholeheartedly if you defeat her, and will also wish you ‘good fight!’ if she beats you.

Gives the best hugs - especially to her pokemon. It’s not uncommon for people to see her giving group hugs to her pokemon after a particularly tough or difficult duel.  

Illya actually has a lot of pokemon, many captured but also many that she befriended and didn’t officially ‘catch’ until they decided to follow her home. She carries a fair bunch around with her, but also left a good number of her pokemon at home to live peacefull with her father. Of course, she only enters battle with 6 pokemon at maximum, as per usual pokemon battle rules. Relationships with her main pokemon team and other notable pokemon detailed below!

While Illya is generally not one to fuss too much about her appearance or fashion, she does care about making presentable. As such, she has a more colorful and varied self-made wardrobe in her pokemon au form than she does in canon. She does however, have a favorite outfit that has become trademark to her:

A loose cloak that is fastened either with a pin or buckle, and a long flowing scarf that sways freely in the wind as she walks. Underneath her cloak, she wears a knee-length dress with a sailor collar and elbow-length sleeves and black fingerless gloves. She often switches between various hair accessories such as flower corsages, ribbons and pins. However, her brightly colored hairbands are perhaps the most well remembered to those who meet her.

Some people speculate that her scarves were sewn from the fur that was shed from her Cinccino, hence how warm and fluffy that look. Her hip length pure white hair is wrapped against her neck when she wears her scarf. 

Illya’s trademark outfit in the pokemon au has two different versions: one that she wears in the spring and summer, while the other is worn in autumn and winter. 

Her spring / summer attire is lighter- both in color and fabric. Her baby pink cloak is fastened with a flower pin atop her pink and purple dress. Intricate flower patterns adorns her skirt, and she wears ankle-length socks and purple flats. She also wears flower earrings 

Her autumn / winter attire is made of thicker, warmer material - specifically her purple cloak which has a star print and is fastened with a buckle. Her dress is a darker blue in color, with constellation and star patterning around the edge of her skirt. There are rumors that the underside of her skirt shimmers like a starry night sky... but you’d have to be out of your mind to want to look up it to confirm said rumor. Instead of socks, she wears white tights and dark blue shoes. She also wears a star hairclip and earrings to go with her blue hairband. 

Illya does not like feeling cold, and thus usually travels around wearing her cloak and scarf... however, she will on occasion take them off indoors out of respect - such as when she’s eating a meal at somebody’s house as a guest. 

Illya was born to two loving parents - Cocona, a lalafellin woman who worked as a nurse at the nearest pokemon center to their home in a small, quaint town and Lachlan, an ex-pokemon trainer who retired shortly after having his name entered into the hall of fame, now settled down to live with his wife and daughter.

Cocona’s job as a nurse gave her a lot of knowledge on how to take care of pokemon, and together with her husband set up a daycare / nursery for both young and old pokemon alike, where they spent their days taking care of many different species of pokemom. 

Born under those circumstances, Illya was exposed to pokemon since a very young age, and began playing with and interacting with pokemon as a toddler. She also quickly learned to help around the daycare, learning more about each different type of pokemon and how to best take care of each of their needs. 

At age 9, her mother fell ill with a life-threatening disease, and in order to allow his wife to see the world before she passed on, Lachlan took Cocona away on a one year journey outside their hometown, leaving Illya alone with her aunt (Cocona’s younger sister) to take care of the pokemon daycare in their absence. Unfortunately, Illya’s aunt had a somewhat sour relationship with her sister, and was neglectful towards Illya, often leaving her unattended for extended periods of time.

Illya sought refuge and comfort from the pokemon she was tasked to take of, and for a long time, they were the only ones Illya talked to. She’d take the pokemon out flower picking, stargazing. She ate with them, slept with them and vowed to take care of them to the best of her abilities for the sake of her parents.

On a particularly terrible stormy night, the land surrounding her home became flooded with rainwater and seeped into her house. While Illya scrambled to keep the water out, her pokemon were thrown into a panic, and eventually one of the baby pidoves flew out and away from her home. Illya chased after the pidove into the woods despite the rain, the wind so strong that it caused her umbrella to be carried away into the wind. 

As she ran after the pidove, she slipped and tumbled down a hill, breaking her leg. Now injured, scared and alone in the middle of the forest, the young Illya cried for help, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the pouring rain and thunder. With nothing but the darkness of the night staring back at her and fearing that a wild animal or hostile pokemon may be lurking about and attack her, Illya attempted to crawl her way back home, but the pain from attempting to stand up only causes her to collapse once more.

It felt like the entire world had abandoned her, and just as she heard a strange noise from the shadows and feared the worse, a mimikyu approaches her from the dark and sat by her, watching over her and shielding her with its appendages, as if to reassure her that it won’t let any harm come to her. 

She was found later in the morning by the people from the nearest town, who had gone over to her house to check on her only to find she wasn’t in, her pokemon panicking and gesturing towards the forest for the townspeople to look for her. The pidove was hold safely afterwards too, trembling as it took shelter in a tree. 

The incident left Illya well traumatized, and stemmed her own growing self-hatred and anxiety which would only grow worse as she grew to become a teenager. 

She doesn’t like talking much about what happened to her as a child, and she only ever mentions the incident to people she truly cares about and trusts. And if anybody were to ever upset her by being pushy and asking her about it when she doesn’t want to share, her Mimikyu would be the first to smack the offender in the head. 

Her main pokemon team underwent a few changes over the years, but for the most part now, it’s fixed and she rarely switches members of her party out for another pokemon unless she thinks it’s really necessary.

One of the first and oldest member of her current pokemon party. Illya and her Mimikyu are inseparable. 

Mimikyu had in truth been watching her since she was but a child, enviously admiring how happy her family and her pokemon in their daycare had been together. He had, on multiple occasions, attempted to show himself in order to be part of their family, but was always too cowardly to do so. He would always scurry away whenever Illya or her parents would approach, hiding in the shadows and only ever watching from a distance. He watched her even as she was left alone, and on the fateful night of that storm where Illya would find herself lost and injured in the forest, Mimikyu folllowed her.

Watching Illya cry alone in the rain, he felt a surge of protectiveness and compelled him to finally step out of the shadow to comfort and protect her through the night. Perhaps in that instance, he saw himself in Illya, someone who was scared, alone and just wanted to be loved. He could relate to Illya’s loneliness, and loved her for the way she would love and accept any pokemon, regardless of their appearance or strength.

Since that day, Mimikyu hasn’t left Illya’s side and is one of the most protective pokemon of her. 

Mimikyu can often be found sitting on Illya’s head when he’s out of his pokeball and traveling around with her. He will extend his appendage out to grab any food that she offers him, or even to swat away anyone who gets too close to Illya.

Compared to other Mimikyu, Illya’s Mimikyu isn’t at all aggressive towards Pikachu. It is however, very shy and embarrassed and will attempt to hide if it spots one. 

As Mimikyu only really cares about what Illya thinks, he won’t attack anyone who catches a glimpse of him under his disguise. But he will be very, very grouchy.

He gets along decently well with all her other pokemon, though it is sometimes jealous of how big and strong Corviknight is.

From a distance or as a shadow, Illya’s scarf often resembles the appendage Mimikyu extends out. Once, while the pair were out in the woods and Mimikyu was sitting on Illya’s head, it extended its appendage to grab hold of a treat Illya was offering it. A distant passerby who could not see clearly in the dark of the night mistook their silhouetted figure as being a monster - or a near and frightening mythical pokemon. The myth is still circulating to this day, and Illya has no idea that it had been caused by her and her Mimikyu.  

Mimikyu doesn’t like going inside his pokeball - not that Illya would force him to. He’d of course, prefer to spend time outside with Illya. He especially never leaves her sight while she sleeps, often snuggling up to her beneath the covers or otherwise making himself comfortable in her scarf that she set aside. 

He’s surprisingly, and scarily very physically strong - able to grab hold of other pokemon and even other people several hundred times larger than itself. He uses this to his advantage by grabbing people who get too close to Illya and shoving them away - and he’s not at all gentle about it. 

Comfey shares Illya’s love and passion for flowers and it’s not uncommon to see her Comfey drifting around her, weaving flowers into her hair as she walked. The scent of the flower crowns Comfey weaves makes people who wear them feel relaxed, so she often wraps Illya in flowers whenever the girl is feeling particularly stressed or uncomfortable. 

Comfey loves decorating hotel rooms and campsites with flowers she picks from the wild, and she seems to be particularly generous when it comes to giving out her flowers to others. Friendly, sweet and kind - it’s almost as if Comfey was an extension of Illya herself sometimes. 

Comfey is the resident healer of Illya’s pokemon roster, able to not only heal the ailments of humans but also the other pokemon. She is especially active when Illya is helping out at pokemon centers or giving first aid to others. When Illya is in pain, Comfey often goes into a tearful panic. 

Corviknight’s appearance almost always gives other people a heart attack. Nobody ever expects someone as small, cute and demure as Illya to have such an intimidating looking pokemon. But she does, and she is just as affectionate to him as she is with her other pokemon. Strangely, Corviknight seems to be very uncooperative to everyone except her.

Once lacking a flying type pokemon, Illya almost fell to her death after being pushed off a cliff. Corviknight caught her in midair and hid her under his wings after he landed, guarding her with a ferocious glare even as other humans attempted to check on her. Ever since, he’s ever a watchful guardian to her, glaring from behind her back even as she smiles sweetly at others. 

Corviknight also serves as Illya’s main mode of transportation when she isn’t able to walk herself. As Illya loves taking her time to explore on her own two feet, she tries to not overly rely on Corviknight... sometimes, it can’t be helped however - such as when she needs to cross large bodies of water.

Interestingly, Corviknight bears a striking resemblance in both his aesthetic and personality to a hyuran pokemon trainer of dark skin and black hair who has secret romantic feelings for Illya. 

Bellossom met Illya while the girl was traveling through a tropical area that has been haunted by rain clouds and dark skies for the past several days. Illya was first attracted to bellossom because of the flowers on her head, and had watched as the Bellossom danced and chanted, mesmerized when the rainclouds pulled apart and sunlight began to shine through.

The two quickly bonded, with Bellossom teaching Illya her sun summoning dance before finally, she decided to join Illya together on her journey.

She wasn’t exactly meant to be a part of Illya’s team, and for a while, she was but a mere travel companion. However, Illya noticed just how active and enthusiastic Bellossom was to battle - or perhaps she saw it as an opportunity to show off her dance to more people. Regardless, bellossom hence became a new member of Illya’s pokemon team replacing Cincinno. 

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Bellossom loves to dance. She is rarely ever seen not at least swaying to its own beat while she’s outside her pokeball, and she becomes very eager when other pokemon or humans show an interest in learning her dance. 

Evolved from an eevee that Illya had taken care of since she was a child, it alongside Mimikyu are the two most senior members of her current pokemon team and also the longest to have known her. 

Sylveon is a free spirit, much like he had been when he was still a baby eevee. He enjoys roaming about a fair bit, though he takes care to not stray too far from Illya. 

He’s very attached to Illya and much like other sylveons, understands his trainer’s emotional state well by wrapping his feelers around her hand while walking with her. Whenever Illya gets sad or upset, he often likes sitting in her lap, purring and nuzzling himself against her in an attempt to make her feel better. He also wraps his feelers around her in an attempt to soothe and calm her down whenever she cries.

Despite his adorable appearance, he’s actually very daring and fearless, never once backing down from a confrontation or fight with other pokemon even if they are multiple times his size or even if they are a type that holds an advantage against him. 

Illya’s Sylveon is also very attached to Alphinaud’s Espeon, nuzzling himself to espeon whenever Alphinaud has it out. 

Gardevoir was one of the latest pokemon to have joined Illya’s team. She is an extremely elegant, regal but also stoic member of the party. 

Like other Gardevoir, she is able to read the future - and it was through her prediction that she foresaw her meeting with Illya and prematurely approached her. She is also able to distort dimensions and create black holes, though she rarely ever does the latter. 

Much like Mimikyu and Corviknight, Gardevoir is extremely protective of Illya despite not having known her for as long as the others have and would not hesitate to expand her own psychic powers to her fullest if she feels like Illya may be in any sort of danger.

Though powerful, she doesn’t tend to like roaming about much and mostly stays within her pokeball unless Illya calls her out for food or battle. 

Gardevoir’s demeanor and headstrong personality reminds Illya a lot of her late mother, and perhaps there is some deeper reason for why Gardevoir herself feels such a strong need to protect Illya as if she were her own kin. 

Some of her pokemon are carried around with her as travel companions, only occasionally taking part in battles, while others are left at home to be cared for by her father.

TRAVEL COMPANIONS [to be updated as au is expanded on]

Vulpix: A male vulpix that Illya carries around and cuddles with during the winter or when she’s traveling through locations with colder climates. Out of all her pokemon who are not part of her main party of 6, vulpix is probably one of the most active and frequently called forth in battles that aren’t official tournament leagues or competitions. Illya also calls her vulpix out whenever fire is needed. He is brave and enthusiastic and hopes to one day evolve himself into Ninetales. 

Dragonair: A gentle male dragonair that Illya caught near a lake one day during clear skies. It had dragged her into the sky and allowed her to ride on his back, soaring high into the clouds before dipping back down towards the waters. However, Illya lost her balance and fell into the water. He still feels bad about it to this day. He likes to curl around her to sleep.

Cinccino: A playful female cinccino who evolved from one of Illya’s minccino that she has been caring for as a child. She was once an active member of Illya’s party, but now is more of a travel companion who rarely ever battles now. Some people believe that Illya used the fur shed from Cinccino’s scarf to sew her own trademark scarf that she’s seen traveling around with now. 

Rowlet: Though Illya gets along with many pokemon in general, birds in particular seem to be very fond of her. This male rowlet followed Illya as she was traveling through the woods and eventually became a part of travel party. He doesn’t see very many fights but he does love to cuddle and is very affectionate towards not just Illya but other pokemon and trainers.

Alcremie: A shy female Alcremie who offers sweets to new friends she meets. Illya often has reservations about eating the cream and berries secreted from her, but after being assured that it doesn’t at all hurt her Alcremie and that it’s offering of sweets is a sign of affection, Illya has started learning to indulge more in sweet foods more and more. Illya doesn’t have the heart to tell Alcremie she prefers spicy food, though. 

Trevenant: A female trevenant that attacked a woodcutter that Illya saved while traversing through the forest. Convinced at first that Illya intended on harming the forest, it proceeded to trap her in a cage of trees until she was finally convinced to release Illya after witnessing the way Illya refused to let her vulpix burn the trees down just to escape. She follows Illya around and holds a lot of respect for the way Illya cared for nature and the environment. 

Hatterene: A reclusive Hatterene Illya met during her travel. She once hated Illya, chasing her by emiting a strong psychic aura much like she does with other strangers. Upon sensing Illya’s lack of hostility and own gentle soul however, she eventually calmed down enough to allow Illya to approach. She is very moody and temperamental.

NOTABLE POKEMONS AT HOME [not including pokemon that belong to Lachlan or pokemon that belong to other people being taken care of]. List is NOT exhaustive!

Cleffa: A female cleffa born from Cocona’s retired Clefairy. As Cocona passed away shortly before cleffa was hatched, Illya became her owner / trainer instead. Though cleffa wishes to someday be a part of Illya’s team, grow stronger and evolve herself, Illya hasn’t quite allowed herself to let go of her mother’s death, and hence prefers to keep cleffa safe at home. It’s one of the rare instances where Illya has explicitly gone against a pokemon’s wishes, even if out of a genuine love and protectiveness of it.

Musharna: A female Musharna that eats the nightmares of Lachlan and any guests who come to stay over at their house. She sleeps a lot and frankly cannot care any less about battling. 

Chimecho: A male Chimecho that Illya caught and took along with her on her journey for a while, before leaving him at home with Lachlan. He likes hanging himself to the roof of the house and swinging in the breeze. Not hearing chimecho’s wind chimes tells Lachlan and Illya that something is wrong. 

Azurill: A male baby Azurill that Illya rescued. He is very timid and lacks a lot of confidence. He wants to get better at doing battle, but still has a lot of training to do before it can get to that point. 

Beedrill: A male beedrill that was evolved from a weedle - the very first pokemon Illya ever caught in the wild on her own. She’s trained him personally as she grew up, and he saw many of her clumsy behavior and less experienced days. He’s sort of retired now, spending his days keeping the more rowdy pokemon in the daycare in check. 

Theme songs

If pokemon au illya were to have a theme / ost track, it’d be this lovely re-orchestrated track of the Lacunosa Town Theme! It’s soft, peaceful and has a touch of melancholy which suits her perfectly. This, this and this remix also fits her and may double as her battle theme?

Illyanaud track mayyyybe? 

Legendaries / Mythicals??

I didn’t include any legendaries or mythical pokemons into her roster because lore regarding those are that they’re very very rare BUT if Illya were allowed to have a legendary and a mythical pokemon, she’d probably own a Cresselia and a Celebi! 

Cresselia, the Lunar Pokémon. Shiny particles are released from its wings like a veil. It is said to represent the crescent moon. On nights around the quarter moon, the aurora from its tail extends and undulates beautifully.

Celebi, the Time Travel Pokémon. This Pokémon wanders across time. Grass and trees flourish in the forests in which it has appeared. When Celebi disappears deep in a forest, it is said to leave behind an egg it brought from the future.

Shout out to Diancie, who is a close second choice solely based on the fact it’s design looks like what Illya would be if she herself were a pokemon. 

Relationships with other OCs / NPCs

To be added!

[woolieshubris]

OKAY im going to preface rant with this- 1) i know none of yall know this game cuz while its popular enough to get a series, its not really popular enough to be part of the general consciousness 2) I've only played the 3rd and 4th installments, so I dont have an extensive knowledge on the series. What I'd want to see in Girls Mode 5 (Aka, style savvy 4, or new style boutique 4) 1) UPDATED TEXTURES. this game has been going on since the DS days, and they just port the old clothes into the new games to pad out the inventory. It's nice because it means you can pretty much move on to the new games with little to no regrets, however the textures on the 3ds XL screen, and emulator (because emulator is the only way to get HD screenshots lol rip) are really really nasty. It's super pixelly but not in a nostalgic way, and it clashes heavily with the newer textures and clothes, making it harder to coordinate outfits. The new game would be coming out on the switch, so the old textures would be even more noticeable when on a TV. You don't need to update the models itself, just the textures on the models. 2) KEEP THE MINI PLOTS. GM 4 has a really cute system with the characters, making it so a handful of them have reoccurring stories and plots! (Not every single one of the characters, because there are tons). I really like this, and it genuinely makes me play day after day. 3) FIX THE DAYS SYSTEM. GM 3 had a day system similar to animal crossing, where the stores and story would only update on a day by day basis. I liked the stores only updating once a day (made it less overwhelming to check for new clothing) but the story progression was longer. GM 3 did have less plot to follow however, so it made more sense. GM 4 has a day system typical of life sim games, where you go to sleep when you run out of tasks to do for the day. I like this system because it doesn't limit the things you can do in one play session, and it can make the story more engaging. It also updates the stores more often, making it easier to 100% and collect all of the clothes, however, it makes the game less engaging over time, and doesn't give an incentive to play day after day. I think a mix between the two could create a more interesting game, but I'm not sure how they would go about doing that. There are pros and cons to each system. 4) BRING BACK RAINBOW Rainbow was a character in GM 3, where by taking screenshots of the game and showing them to her, she would find and unlock hidden colors. I really like this mechanic and think it is interesting, even though it can be a bit tedious at times. Maybe a system where instead of you showing the pictures, she automatically tells you if you unlocked them + shows you the photo that unlocked it? 5) REMOVE OR CHANGE THE DESIGN CLOTHES The main gimmick of GM 4 was designing your own clothes. The game doesn't really push you to do it at all, and the clothes they have you design don't match the clothes already in the game. Most of these "customization" options in games aren't actually that useful and I personally just ignore them in favor of prebuilt pretty clothes. I think either changing it so that certain clothes can be recolored by you/dyed, or changing it so that you can recycle clothes into new ones would be interesting, and a good way to add the mechanic to future games. 6) CHANGE THE BUILDING EDITING SYSTEM. GM 3 and GM 4 both struggle with a clunky furniture moving system. The design is similar to happy house designer, however the menus feel clunky to navigate through and are overall more difficult to use. I think revamping it a bit to make it smoother would be the way to go. GM 3 had a dollhouse theme, and so changing the furniture and collecting new pieces was referred to as collecting miniatures, which I liked. 7) INCLUDE MORE STYLES OF CLOTHING. One of the biggest draws of the GM series, that brought me to it specifically, was the subculture themed clothing! They have punk/emo, classic/sweet lolita, gothic lolita, "retro", preppy, decora kei, and probably more. Adding more styles, such

as Mori, would be a good move for the series, and also a good way to market it to a young teen demographic, especially as dress up games become more popular. 8) REMOVE/CHANGE THE BOHO-CHIC ITEMS. A lot of the boho-chic items in the game are actually just culturally appropriated from native americans, which while true to the style it is trying to emulate, is a bit weird to see, and could cause controversy later in the line. This game is made by a japanese company and translated to english, so I understand why they are still in a game that came out in 2017 but still, it isn't a great look for nintendo. 9) ALLOW YOURSELF TO CHANGE YOUR PERSONA LATER IN THE GAME. In GM 4 and 3, at the start of the game, you get to design a character and choose facial features, skintone and height. You should be able to edit the character later in the game, possibly through settings or something. Fixed character customization is a bit of an outdated thing anyways, with most modern games allowing you to change your avatar as much as you want. 10) CHANGE ONLINE PLAY. Currently, in GM 3 and 4, online play usually consists of sharing the building and your personas outfit. I think there should be less of an emphasis of sharing the building, and more emphasis on sharing outfits, since that is what the game centers around. Obviously the boutique interior is the place you are going to see the most in the game, but focusing on outfits you have created makes more sense for the series and genre. There are more additions/changes to the series that I'd like to see, such as a larger male catalogue/allowing to pick a male avatar, a range of body types, LGBT rep, or disability rep, however, I know those are mostly too much to ask for a light hearted dress up game RPG made for a young female demographic, sadly. I think marketing the game largely to young teens on platforms such as instagram and tiktok, and emphasizing the subculture styles such as punk and y2k would be a great marketing strategy, especially since those demographics are flocking to online dress up browser games that have a similar focus. Promoting the shareability of the ingame outfits by having an easy/quick to use photo booth and an easy way to crop the photos/videos to fit a phone format would also be a great way to have the game spread through word of mouth. Of course, nintendo can kind of suck at marketing their games, especially more obscure titles like this, so I don't expect most or really any of this to happen.

[l-egionaire]

She Loves Me Not- Chapter 1-An Owl House Fanfic.

Willow had had just about enough.

When she first realized Amity's obvious crush on Luz it had been somewhat funny. Seeing her serious and studious childhood friend being turned into a red-faced stammering mess by the human girl couldnt help but cause her to snicker. But after nearly three weeks of seeing Amity practically swoon as soon as Luz so much as gazed in her general direction and her friend still being almost painfully oblivious to her affections, Willow decided something needed to change.

She knew that if she just told Luz about Amity's crush, the witch would personally sic her largest abomination on her. So she would have to help Luz figure it out on her own. Which would be difficult as it seemed like Luz was especially dense when it came to Amity's feelings about her.

Case in point, when Amity leapt up from their lunch table with her face the color of blood and Luz's only response was "huh, guess something didn't agree with her." Willow was tempted to bang her head against the table.

Thankfully, she found the perfect moment while the two of them where walking down the hall and Luz had started talking about a new piece of Azura fanfiction she'd read.

"So then Azura pushes Hecate out of the way and takes the blow from the burning heckhound! Horrified by whats happened to her friend, Hecate is filled with rage and power and defeats the monster with one powerful blast of magic!" Luz swept her arm in excitement, just narrowly missing hitting Willows forehead. She chuckled nervously after noticing. "Sorry. Anyway, Hecate runs to Azura's side and cradles her in her arms. Hecate asks "why would you do that?" And Azura says "I couldn't lose you." Oh, it was just so romantic!"

Willow raised a brow at Luz's word choice. "Romantic?"

"Yeah. I mean, the author isn't really a Heczula shipper but the way they interact in the story just gives such a really strong romantic vibe. I tried telling the same thing to Amity but she said she didn't really see it."

Resisiting the urge to smile at the irony, Willow carefully asked. "So, Amity isn't really into romance?"

"Oh no, she's actually a HUGE Heczula fan. In fact she even showed me some really great fan art she'd done. I actually asked her about working together to make our own special Heczula piece. Marry our skills so to speak."

She could just imagine Amity's response to that. Still keeping her expression as neutral as possible, Willow pressed on.

"Speaking of Amity and romance, has she talked to her crush yet?"

Luz frowned. "No. And I don't know why. I mean, I get that she was afraid of being rejected but its Amity. She's smart, talented, cute. No way someone would reject her."

Okay, Luz calling Amity "cute" wasn't a bad sign. "Maybe its because she's already got a relationship with this person. You know, like a friendship shes scared of messing up."

Luz immediately struck a hand out in front of Willow and they both came to a stop. The human girl gasped like a banshee, practically sucking in air.

"Of course! She's developed feelings for a friend and now fears her romantic attraction will end up damaging their friendship if she reveals it! Its such a common romance trope, how could've I have missed that?!" She gave another loud gasp. "Ogmigosh. I know who Amity's crush is!"

Willow couldn't help but smirk. About time.

"Its you Willow! Amity has a crush on you!"

Willows left eye started to twitch and she internally groaned at her friend once again drawing the wrong conclusion.

Mustering up as much effort as possible, she calmly asked. "What makes you think that?"

"Well it all fits. You two were close childhood friends before suddenly being separated. You've started rebuilding your relationship which probably caused her to realize that her feelings for you went beyond friendship and because things only just started getting better between you she's scared of admitting her feelings because she doesn't want to lose you again!" Luz declared, looking extremely pleased with herself.

Okay, that actually made since. "Yeah. But you know Luz...that could also apply to you too."

Luz's pride turned to confusion. "What?"

"Well, you two only recently became friends after not liking each other and she might not want to mess up your friendship since its so new." Willow said slowly, hoping it would finally sink in to her.

Luz stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter.

After a round of giggles, she wiped a tear from her eye. "Thats ridiculous. Amity couldn't have a crush on me!"

At this point Willow couldn't swallow the annoyance when she replied. "And why not?!"

She expected to hear "we're just friends " or "we danced at Grom" as Luz's defense but what she said next completely shocked her.

"Amity would never be interested someone like me."

Both the statement and the paradoxical chuckle Luz gave while saying it zapped away whatever anger Willow had at her obliviousness and replaced it with intense confusion.

"What are you talking about? Why wouldn't Amity be interested in you?"

"Because Amity is, well, Amity and I'm me." The way Luz said it, t as if it should be completely obvious, caused Willow to get a twisted feeling in her stomach. Before she could say anything Luz pressed on.

"I mean, Amity's a skilled witch, Hexsides top student, she's planning on being part of the emperors coven one day! Plus she's rich, popular, she makes great fanart. And me? I'm...barely able to do magic. And I can't even do it the right way like you guys thanks to my stupid human organs. I'm not even a real witch. I mean, if Amity had a crush on me, you really think she'd be afraid of me rejecting her?"

Willow just stared at her in stunned silence. She was waiting for Luz to yell "kidding" or say that this was just a joke and she'd known about Amity's crush the whole time. But the bittersweet smile on Luz's face told her that she was completely serious.

She couldn't believe it. Luz, quite possibly the nicest person she knew, the one who tried to help her with a school project at the risk of being violently dissected, the one who'd managed to get past Amity's walls and become her friend, honestly thought that Amity didn't consider her good enough to have a crush on.

"Luz, I'm sure Amity doesn't think that way." Willow argued. "You two are friends now! You have that book club thing you do together! She doesn't think of you as less than her! In fact, I bet if you asked she'd definitely say she would be interested in you!"

Hopefully that would kill two birds with one stone.

"I can't do that Willow. Like you said, things are good between me and Amity. The last thing I want is to scare her off because she thinks I got feelings for her." Luz looked to the side and muttered. "I don't want to end up losing another friend because I pushed too much."

Her voice was so low Willow almost didn't hear her. She couldn't help but notice her use of word in particular. "Another?"

Luz winced, clearly not having wanted Willow to hear her but seeing the look her friend was giving, she began to explain.

"Back at my human school I would sometimes manage to meet people who had some of the same interests I did, like Azura or Anime. We'd talk about it, meet up, it was almost like we were friends."

Luz sighed

"But eventually, I'd do something. Somthing too weird or too much. Maybe even something that ccidentally ended up getting us in trouble. And then...they didn't want to be friends anymore."

The whole time Luz spoke her voice cracked, and Willow noticed a twinkle in the corner of her eye. The defeated expression on Luz's face seemed almost alien compared to her usual beaming face.

"Luz.....".

Upon seeing the sympathetic look on her friends face, Luz cleared her throat, plastered a smile on her face and tried to unnoticingly wipe the corner of her eye.

"But, anyway, thats my point. Amity and I are at a good place and I don't need to go asking her questions that might make her uncomfortable just to make myself feel better."

Noticing that she hadn't managed to ease her friend, Luz added. "Hey, come on, relax. Its not like I don't think anyone could like me But Amity? Trust me, I think she's be a bit out of my league. Now come on, we should get to class."

"You go ahead. I'll catch up."

As she watched Luz walk away, their entire conversation replayed in her mind. She couldn't believe her friend honestly thought that way about herself. She truly thought she wasn't good enough for Amity to like.

Willow knew one thing, still felt like she had before. She'd had enough. She wasn't going to let Luz keep thinking like that about herself. She was going to do something about it.

And she knew just what that something was.

[belle-keys]

I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉